Eight Years Lost A Love Unclaimed (Ariella) novel Chapter 44

BOOK4 Chapter5

The salty sea breeze whipped across my face, stinging my skin. Jessica’s laughter

drifted down from the second floor. I looked up and saw Ethan Harris gently blowdrying Jessica’s hair, his careful and loving movements so familiar. Jessica

was

comfortably nestled in his arms, while I, the one who once belonged there, had

become just an observer.

I was frozen in place by that laughter.

What if–what if I told him that I’m the one who’s supposed to be his fiancée?

Ethan

Harris is a man who takes responsibility seriously–what would he do then?

I don’t want his pity; I just want Ethan Harris to love me.

By the time I had composed myself and returned, it was already the middle of the

night, but Grace was still awake.

“Ethan figured it out on his own. Even though he’s lost his memory, he hasn’t

forgotten his old instincts.”

“I know.”

Ethan has always been smart. It’s no surprise he noticed Detective Parker’s subtle

attempts to get close to him.

10:36

Fight Years Lost: A Love Unclaimed

BOOK4 Chapters

“And his parents? Did Detective Parker tell him?”

The air was silent for a few seconds. “He was told it was a car accident.”

I nodded, not saying anything further. At least that explanation was something he

could accept.

“Ethan said that after the wedding, he’s coming back to Maplewoodwith us.”

After a long pause, I finally spoke, “He’s established a life here, it’s only right for

him

to take his wife back to see his parents… It’s the right thing to do.”

“Did Ethan ask you?”

I thought about the man who had waited for me at the door.

“He did, but I didn’t say anything. Don’t worry.”

“Sienna, you know that’s not what we meant.”

I clutched my stomach, where the pain was radiating, “But it’s what I mean.”

From eighteen to twenty–eight, ten whole years–Ethan Harris had become a part

of

my life, entwined in my most precious memories like a vine. Now, as he’s being.

torn

away, it’s as if I’m being ripped apart, leaving me bloody and broken.

By the third day here, my insomnia had returned. I lay awake until dawn, with only

two days left before their wedding. Early in the morning, Jessica’s voice echoed

through the courtyard as she organized the preparations.

“Here, I want a floral arch with red roses. How long does the red carpet need to

be?

How big should the backdrop be? Ethan, if we don’t have a photo wall, you’re in

big

trouble!”

Her voice carried on through the courtyard. I buried my head under the covers,

but

Jessica’s voice pierced straight through.

We had a wedding planned too. The aisle was lined with white jasmine from his

proposal, and the bouquet was handmade by Ethan–orange freesias, their scent

sweet with a hint of freshness. The guests‘ chairs were adorned with orange

ribbons,

and we had revised the menu four times before finally settling on the dishes. Even