The Love She Tried to Forget

1. one

one

LYSANDRA

I didn’t know if I could go through with this meeting. Perhaps I could convince Camille—my best friend and literary agent—to cancel it. I’d never been the type of person to bite my nails, yet I found myself doing so as I paced the meeting room in my publisher’s building.

I shuffled my shirt, trying to dry the sweat in my armpits. “Is it just me, or is it hot in here?”

There should be no reason for it to be so stuffy; the late August nights in Edinburgh were almost unbearable for me. Even after five years of calling this place my home. I was much more accustomed to the humid summers of the desert towns of California.

Camille’s big blue eyes stared up at me with a shimmer as she pushed a strand of her long black hair over her shoulder. “You need to relax. Everything will be okay,” she reassured me. There was nothing sharp about her words, only understanding for my anxiety.

I slid my palms over my eyes in exasperation. “You don’t seriously believe that I should do this, do you?”

My hopes of escaping were crushed when Camille sent me a knowing glance.

I knew that would be my answer, but there was no harm in asking.

For once, me and my literary agent had differing opinions about my career as an author.

Camille had been pushing around the production world to be able to get the film rights for one of my books.

This time around, it was the producers that reached out to my publisher and Camille to acquire the rights to my book So Long, Scotland.

“You want this, Lys. Don’t lie to me and act like you don’t,” Cami argued.

Perhaps she knew me better than anyone else, after all, she’d been my best friend since we were seventeen. I knew she wouldn’t let me pass up on the opportunity of a lifetime, like bringing my story to film world.

“Yes, of course I want my book to be made into a movie. It’s what every author wants, but I’m not going to have any sort of creative control with this company,” I retorted with a frown. “They’ll be calling all the shots.”

That wasn’t entirely true. The real reason why I didn’t want So Long, Scotland to be made into a movie was because I knew it would reach him, somehow.

The guy that inspired the story. No one expected to hear an author deny the writer’s dream of getting their book adapted to a movie.

But I didn’t know if I could bear to relive everything I wrote into that story.

The way he used me. The way I was a joke to him. The way I was ridiculed by him and his friends.

Camille remained silent, her gaze fixed on my hand pressed against the bench top, one diamond ring adorning my finger. “You don’t know that.”

She’d always been the type of person to expect the very best in everything.

She had that superpower. On the other hand, I saw the deep void that was life.

Being abandoned as a kid by the one person who was supposed to love me, fighting for my life ever since I was thirteen, and having my heart broken by the only other person I had ever loved more than myself did that to me.

I scoffed. “Please, it’s what every production company does to the author.”

“Not every company is like that.”

“I saw this author on Reddit talking about—”

Cami pushed herself to her feet and set a hand over my shoulder, cutting me off.

“First of all, you need to stop reading the rants posted on there. Second, it’s not gonna hurt to meet with them.

Just hear them out,” she said. “And remember what I told you about their proposal: it’s a really good deal. ”

She’d briefly mentioned how the executive who emailed the publishing house was planning on giving me a say over the script and the creative process. I refused to believe anyone could be that good out the kindness of their heart. Everyone in this world was in it for money.

I crossed my arms and sighed. I avoided her hauntingly beautiful gaze because it reminded me of him so much. Delicate, gentle, and deep.

This was my work, my novel, and my story.

A story I wished to forget. It was published last year, and its fame never died.

I wrote it because I knew there were women out there who felt the same as I did when I struggled through my greatest sorrow.

I wished to help my readers rather than simply entertain them, but they didn’t have to know that.

They didn’t have to know that the story I wrote was a mirror of my life.

It was for those women that I had to accept this meeting. I knew it, and there was no point in arguing about it any longer.

Camille claimed that if I liked their presentation, I would accept their proposal, and then I could finally say that all my dreams had come true.

Well, except for one.

“When’s the meeting again?” I hadn’t realized that I completely blocked out that piece of information, a bad habit I couldn’t help whenever I would get lost in my own thoughts.

“At 3 p.m.,” Cami answered after a pause.

Thirty minutes. In half an hour I had to make a life-changing decision. I just knew Ezra was going to watch that movie and know that the book was about us.

My pulse only quickened as I tapped my foot against the polished floor. “I need coffee,” I croaked.

I let out a breath, biting the inside of my cheek to withhold any cursing.

Just one cup of caffeine. Then I could deal with these producers —no problem. Hopefully, they weren’t as pushy as the last pair.

“You don’t want me to go with you, do you?” Camille asked, raising an eyebrow.

“That easy to tell?” I almost smiled, even as dread filled my gut.

“I’ll be here waiting for you.” She nodded with a fair grin.

Heaving a sigh, I departed the conference room and headed for the elevator.

This routine of mine, pressing the buttons, waiting thirty seconds for it to ding again, and walking through the busy streets of Edinburgh to find a very much needed cup of iced coffee, was probably the highlight of my day.

Especially when the day included an event like today’s.

But no matter how mechanical my routine, I loved my career. I got to work with my best friend. We graduated from boarding school together, and we both got accepted to the University of Edinburgh. We no longer needed to go back to the States. There was nothing for us there. Especially for me.

Cami’s dream of being a literary agent jumpstarted with me. She’s been pushing my career forward ever since she got promoted. Hence, the reason she accepted that meeting from Blue Tower Productions.

Personally, I believe it's the worst production company in Scotland. I've heard about all the mishaps they’d had with other authors from various publishing houses. Then again, they were just rumors. I knew I needed to give them the benefit of the doubt.

The bell of the coffee shop jingled as I opened the glass door.

The warm scent of caramel and vanilla enveloped me, and I couldn’t help but smile.

There were two small refrigerators at the entrance, near the napkin area.

One filled to the brim with pastries such as millionaire’s shortcake, cream buns, tarts, and coffee kisses.

The other stocked with water bottles and branded sodas.

There was a grand window lining the entire entrance wall, next to their signature wooden tables with matching chairs.

As I made my way through the shop, I noticed the usual leathered beige love seats at the far end with matching coffee tables.

A faux olive tree in the corner surrounding the cozy setup.

Thankfully, there wasn’t a line, so I beelined straight for the counter.

A young girl stood behind the register. She was new, but I think she recognized my face. I was a frequent visitor, after all.

She had bright red hair tied in a messy bun, and the shirt under her apron was black with swirling patterns covering most of it. Her nails were covered in chipped black paint.

I grinned. “Hi, can I get an iced brown sugar espresso?”

She nodded, punching in the order. “Sure. It’ll be ￡4.20.”

The pound note slipped from my fingers onto the counter, cheeks flushing. Swiftly, I grabbed the note and handed it to her. “Sorry, here you go.”

How embarrassing.

But she didn’t reply. She gave me my change, and I walked to the other side of the counter, waiting for my vice. I deeply hoped that I wouldn’t regret this meeting. I didn’t want to read about him being spotted at a movie premiere with my name on the poster.

Our romance should’ve stayed buried. Yet, I had no willpower to stop myself from writing about it. I knew it was one of the best stories I’d ever written because of the traction it received. So many people welcomed it into their hearts. It’d become a bestseller in Europe and in the United States.

I knew my readers would love this. I just had to keep them in mind if I were to go through with this deal.

Everything I did was for my readers.

I heard my name being called, and my head snapped up. The girl who’d taken my order had her lips set in a thin line with my coffee in hand, motioning impatiently in my direction.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, grabbing the cold plastic cup from her.

Before leaving, I headed to the napkin area looking for a coffee sleeve. When I made it to the station, there was a young man throwing away his cup. I stopped when his piercing ocean eyes met mine.

No…

I would recognize that look anywhere. It was the same look that had haunted me for the past five years—a shade I couldn’t bring myself to love again. One I hated, in fact.

“Lysandra,” he gasped.

Those blue eyes have tormented me for the past five years.

I couldn’t help but note his pristine suit, pressed and elegant without a wrinkle in sight.

That watch on his left wrist probably cost more than my entire life.

And those glasses. The ones that made him look sophisticated and empowering.

His black hair, which I used to brush my fingers through, and his pale skin, which used to give me warmth.

He was here, in the same place I was.

Last I heard, he was starting a production business in New York. He was successful, having taken over his father’s real estate and finance companies, which were well-known across Europe, and had won the hearts of many American girls.

He was the embodiment of everything I hated when I first arrived in Edinburgh, but became everything I ever loved. And here he was, analyzing me, just like he always did.

“Ezra.” My fingers curled inward.

I thought I’d gotten rid of him. Suddenly, rage filled me when I remembered how he’d used me. Memories flashed through my mind, only making my blood boil further. The soccer stadium, the heartbreak in his eyes, and the contempt in mine.