Chapter 114

~ Franklin ~

I sent Walter to a nearby boutique to pick up a dress for Octavia. She had been stuck in that hospital gown long enough, and I didn’t want to waste time by asking Patricia to go all the way to her apartment. I gave Walter her exact size, and within minutes he returned with a beautiful red dress. I handed it to her.

"Here, take this," I said.

She accepted the bag slowly and pulled out the dress. "How did you know my exact size?" she asked, tilting her head.

I didn’t answer right away.

"Of course... I must have told you before the memory loss," she said.

"Not really," I replied. "I guessed it. I already knew what would fit you perfectly."

She gave a small smile. "You can say it’s because you’re my soulmate."

I smiled back. "Something like that."

She stood up, and I moved quickly to steady her. Our hands entwined, fingers clasping together. It was the first time I had held her hand since she woke up from the coma. Warmth spread through me. We stood close, our faces inches apart. I stared at her with an intensity I couldn’t hide. After a moment, she looked away.

"I’ve got it," she whispered.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I’m sure." Her voice was soft. "I’ll just go change in the bathroom."

"That’s not a good idea. I won’t be there to catch you if you fall. It’s better if you change here, where I can help."

"So you’ll see me naked?" she asked, looking nervous.

I shrugged. "We’ve seen each other naked before."

"That was different. I didn’t have memory loss then. Now it feels like I’m undressing in front of a stranger."

I sighed. "Fine. I’ll turn around."

I faced the wall and waited. "Just tell me if you need help. And stay close so I can catch you if you lose your balance."

"Got it."

A few moments later, she spoke again. "I need help."

I turned. "What is it?"

"I can’t reach the zipper."

I smiled. "I can do that."

She turned her back to me, her hair carefully pulled aside because of the bandage still wrapped around her head. The nurses changed it every morning before her bath. I looked at the smooth skin of her bare back and fought the urge to touch her, to kiss the nape of her neck. I forced myself to stay in control and slowly zipped the dress.

When she turned around, she said softly, "Thank you."

"Don’t mention it." I let my eyes drift over her. "You look beautiful, Octavia. Really beautiful."

The red dress hugged her curves perfectly, accentuating her slim, feminine figure. She looked like a goddess. I could never forget the night I had slowly peeled her out of her clothes on the beach.

"So...shall we?" she asked.

"Wait. You can’t just walk out. Hospital policy says you have to be wheeled out."

I helped her sit back on the bed. "Stay right here. I’ll be back."

"How is she?" Patricia asked when I stepped into the hallway.

"She’s beautiful... I mean, she’s okay," I said, still picturing her in the dress. Her parents exchanged a knowing glance but said nothing.

"Excuse me, I need to get a wheelchair for her."

A few minutes later, I returned with a nurse pushing a wheelchair.

"Seriously? This is ridiculous," Octavia complained as the nurse brought it in. "It’s my head that’s hurt, not my legs."

Her parents stepped inside the room.

"We’re just taking every precaution, ma’am," the nurse explained. "It’s hospital policy."

"Hear that, Octavia? Hospital policy," I teased.

She rolled her eyes, and for a second I saw a flash of the old Octavia—the one I loved.

The nurse tried to help her stand, but it was taking too long. I stepped in, scooped her up in my arms. She gasped and wrapped her arms tightly around my neck.

"Oh my God!"

"Don’t worry," I murmured. "I’ve got you, remember?"

I gently lowered her into the wheelchair.

"There you go."

I turned to the nurse. "Can I borrow the wheelchair for the day?"

"You’ll need the doctor’s permission. Wheelchairs are supposed to stay on hospital premises."

"I’ll ask him. Excuse me."

I went to the doctor’s office and explained the situation.

"It’s not supposed to leave the premises," he said.

"I know, but I’ll bring it back. And if anything happens to it, I’ll buy a brand-new, more expensive one."

He sighed. "Fine. You can take it."

"Thank you, Doc."

I returned to the ward, said goodbye to Octavia’s parents, and wheeled her out of the hospital. I told Walter to take the rest of the day off—I wanted to drive her myself. I wanted us to be alone, even if only for a little while.

"So where are you taking me?" Octavia asked as I settled her into the passenger seat and loaded the wheelchair into the trunk.

"Long Island," I said, sliding behind the wheel.

"Why Long Island?"

"Because that’s where our love story began."

I started the car, and we drove off.

When we reached Long Island, I took her to the same upscale restaurant where we had gone on our first date.

"This place looks fancy," she said as I helped her to a table.

"It is. This is the restaurant where we had our first date."

She looked around, searching her memory. "Can you remember it?"

"No...I’m sorry. I don’t."

"It’s okay," I said, signaling the waiter. Before she could reach for the menu, I ordered, "She’ll have the spaghetti Bolognese."

Her eyes widened.

"I’ll have the same," I added. "With iced tea, please. No alcohol—she’s on medication."

"Your meals will be out shortly," the waiter said and left.

"How did you know spaghetti Bolognese is my favorite food?" she asked.

"Because you told me. Just like you told me your favorite flowers."

She sighed sadly. "I wish I could remember telling you."

I reached across the table and took her hand. "Don’t worry. You will."

Our food arrived quickly. After a few bites, she looked at me. "I have questions. Can I ask?"

"Of course."

"When did you propose to me? Before I said yes?"

I set my glass down. This was the moment I had been dreading, but she deserved the truth.

"I didn’t really propose... not in the traditional way. I gave you an engagement ring, but our marriage started as a marriage of convenience. We got married for the wrong reasons."

"What wrong reasons?"

I took a deep breath. "There was a scandal. A very public one that went viral across New York. We had a one-night stand, and it was leaked to the press. It threatened my position as CEO. My grandfather demanded we get married. Your parents agreed—not only to save my job, but to help cover up your family company’s debts. It was going bankrupt."

She stared at me, then looked down. "My parents did that?"

"Yes. But don’t hate them, Octavia. They love you. They were trying to protect the family legacy. My grandfather did the same thing for me."

She looked conflicted for a moment, then nodded slowly.

"And after we got married?" she asked.

"We didn’t like each other at first. But slowly you started developing feelings for me. I didn’t love you then...because I thought I was in love with someone else."

"Who?"

"She doesn’t matter anymore. Today is about you and me."

I continued, "Eventually I fell in love with you—almost too late. That’s when our real love story began."

She was quiet as she ate. After a while she asked, "So...I had feelings for you before the accident?"

"Yes. You still do. You’ve just forgotten them for now."

"That’s... interesting," she said softly, and we finished our meal in thoughtful silence.

After lunch, I drove her to the beach near the resort. We sat together on a large boulder, the wind whipping through our hair as we watched the waves.

"Just so you know," I said quietly, "we made love right here on this spot."

Her eyes widened. "We did?"

"Mmm-hmm. Romantic, right?"

"Not really. It’s crazy. Who has sex on a public beach?"

I smiled. "That was us. That’s how crazy we were about each other. It was right here that I realized my feelings for you were real. That I was the luckiest man alive to have you in my life. And I still feel that way, Octavia. I love you so much. So much."

Our faces were inches apart. She whispered my name—"Franklin"—and I leaned in, capturing her lips.

The kiss was everything I remembered: soft, warm, perfect. She pressed her hand against my chest and kissed me back. I deepened it, and a soft moan escaped her.

Then suddenly she pulled away, wincing. Her eyes squeezed shut as she rubbed her bandaged head.

"Ugh!"

"What is it, baby?." I pulled her into my arms.

"Franklin...Franklin..." She mumbled my name over and over.

"I’m here, baby. I’m right here. Talk to me."

She looked up at me, a tear slipping down her cheek. The wincing stopped. Her lips parted.

"I remember."