Chapter 43
43
RORY
Why had Elena gone upstairs? Rory stood at the bottom of the hallway. Everyone else had gone back into the lounge to drink coffee and polish off Diego’s desserts.
Nothing was going to happen . Crystal balls, fortune tellers, black cats… Thanks to Julian, a logical explanation for Elena’s promise had emerged.
Still, Elena should be warned that a minute longer and there wouldn’t be so much as a cinnamon cookie crumb left downstairs. Taking the steps two at a time, he headed towards her bedroom. Rory consulted his watch.
It was a minute past midnight!
It wasn’t Elena’s thirtieth birthday any more! Any apparent, possible danger was definitely, inarguably, over! He could have swung from the light fitting above, or sat on the balcony and helter-skeltered down. Instead, he knocked on her door. No reply. Excitedly, he pushed it open.
Rory stopped.
Blinked.
The colour drained from his face .
His mouth felt as if he’d eaten nothing but dry crisps for four hours straight.
Elena lay in the foetal position, at a strange angle on the duvet, mouth open, arms hanging over the side of the bed, an open book by her body.
No. No, this hadn’t happened. Yet… he narrowed his eyes.
She wasn’t breathing.
Rory stood rigid. Elena had lost her life with so much of it ahead to enjoy – more travel, career promotions, chats with Brandy and Snap… And he’d lost Elena before even declaring his love for her. Numb, unable to release the tears building up, he stumbled over to the bed. ‘I love you,’ he whispered. ‘I love you, Elena Swan, with every tick tock of every second, with every thump, thump of every heartbeat.’ Only because he’d seen it in movies, a procedure he felt he had to follow, Rory pressed his trembling palm against her eyes to make sure they were fully closed before putting his finger on the side of her neck.