STILL YOU(PART 4)- A LITTLE CLOSER

Lauretta didn't expect Elias to pick her up that Saturday. She had expected dinner. Maybe flowers. Possibly another conversation about the photograph he kept avoiding. She hadn't expected him to arrive at her apartment at six in the evening, leaning against his car with two cups of coffee. "You didn't tell me we were going anywhere." "I didn't." She looked at the coffee. "What's that?" "Peace offering." "For what?" "For being late." "You aren't late." "Exactly." She laughed. "You're ridiculous." "And yet you're coming with me." She looked at the car. "Where?" "Trust me." "I don't." "I know." He opened the passenger door. She got in. He drove them away from the city. Lauretta watched the buildings disappear behind them. "You're kidnapping me." "Would you like me to turn around?" She considered it. "No." "Then I'm doing well." She smiled. An hour later, they stopped outside a small restaurant overlooking the sea. Lauretta stared. "Elias." "What?" "This place is beautiful." "I thought you'd like it." They were seated outside. The evening breeze was cool, the ocean dark beneath the fading sunlight. For once, Elias didn't seem like the wealthy man she'd read about in magazines. He looked relaxed. Happy, even. Lauretta rested her chin on her hand. "You do this often?" "Take women to restaurants?" "Yes." "No." She raised an eyebrow. "You're lying." "I don't have to." "That's annoyingly confident." He smiled. "You're the first person I've brought here." She looked at him. "Why?" He shrugged. "I wanted you here." Simple. No performance. No grand gesture. Just that. Lauretta looked down at her glass, hiding the smile that had appeared on her face. "You know," she said, "you're becoming difficult to dislike." "That's the plan." "You had a plan?" "Since the wedding." She looked up. "Since the wedding?" "I liked you." "You barely knew me." "I know." "You keep saying that." "Because it's true." Their food arrived. They talked for hours. They disagreed about almost everything. Elias thought people should say what they meant. Lauretta thought some things were better left unsaid. He liked mornings. She hated them. He preferred silence. She filled silence whenever it became uncomfortable. Yet somehow, none of it felt like incompatibility. It felt like discovery. Later, they walked along the shore. Lauretta slipped off her shoes and carried them in one hand. Elias watched her. "What?" "Nothing." "You've been staring." "I like looking at you." She smiled. "That's becoming a habit." "I don't intend to stop." She looked away. "You're very smooth." "I'm actually nervous." She stopped walking. "You?" "Yes." "Why?" He looked at her. "Because I really like you." The words were simple. No games. No mystery. No past lives. Just a man standing beside the sea, telling a woman the truth. Lauretta smiled. "I really like you too." Elias's expression softened. He reached for her hand. This time, she took his first. They continued walking. Neither noticed the photograph tucked safely inside Elias's jacket. Neither spoke about the strange things that had happened. For one evening, they didn't need to. When Elias drove her home, it was nearly midnight. They stood outside her door. Neither seemed ready to leave. "So," Lauretta said. "So." "Was this a date?" Elias smiled. "I was hoping it was." "Then I suppose it was." He stepped closer. Slowly. Giving her every opportunity to move away. She didn't. He touched her cheek. "Can I kiss you?" Lauretta smiled. "You finally asked." "I wanted to be sure." "Now you are." He kissed her. Softly. Briefly. Nothing dramatic. Just enough to make her smile when they parted. Elias looked at her. "Goodnight." "Goodnight." She opened her door. Then turned back. "Elias?" "Yes?" "Next Saturday." He smiled. "Another date?" "Definitely." She disappeared inside. Elias stood there for a moment, smiling to himself. Then he reached into his jacket for his keys. The photograph slipped out. He caught it before it touched the ground. For a moment, he looked at the girl beside the lake. Then at the apartment door Lauretta had just closed. His smile faded slightly. There was something written on the back that he had never noticed before. Not the old handwriting. A different one. Neater. Familiar. She doesn't remember yet. Elias turned the photograph over again. And for the first time, he wondered whether forgetting had been accidental— or whether someone had made sure Lauretta would forget.

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