“Yes.” “Why those two lives?”


    He shrugs. “I’m not sure.”


    I frown. “How do you remember everything?”


    “I don’t remember everything.” He pauses for a moment. “When I turn twenty-one in each life I start to


    remember little things,” he murmurs.


    I drop to sit on a wooden box as I listen. I don’t think my legs will hold me up anymore.


    He hesitates as he thinks of the wording. “At twenty-one I start to see shes, simr to the ones you


    have experienced. ces, faces, images.”


    I put my hand over my mouth. God, it’s terrifying to experience.


    “How do you…?” I pause. “How do you remember?” I wipe the tears from my face. “How do youText property ? N?vel(D)ra/ma.Org.


    remember me?”


    He leans his behind onto the bench adjacent to where I am sitting. “I don’t. I am pulled to London.”


    I smile softly, like me. “And?”


    “And I buy a painting.” “A painting of me?” I breathe.


    He smiles sexily. “Aye, a painting of you.”


    I bite my bottom lip in awe. This is like a fucking fairy tale on steroids.


    “The more I look at the painting, the more I remember.”


    I run my hands through my hair nervously. I honestly don’t believe this is happening.


    “What then?” I whisper.


    “I hang the painting above my bed and youe to me at night. Beautiful, beautiful memories of you.”


    My nostrils re as I try to hold my tears in.


    “I dream of you. I dream of loving you, of holding you, of making you my wife.”


    I can’t breathe.


    “And then one day ites to me.”


    “What does?” I whisper.


    “The ring.”


    I frown and hold my hand out in front of me to look at the ring. “What about the ring?”


    “It is the ma that brings us together. The glue that brings this story together.”


    “How?”


    He shakes his head and picks up my hand and kisses my ring. “I don’t know, but you always end up


    with it, and when you do, it is then that I can find you.”


    I frown. “But you didn’t want me to have the ring.” What the hell? “Why didn’t you want me to have


    it?”


    He smiles softly and pulls me into his arms. “I was trying to give you a choice.”


    “A choice?”


    “I wanted to know if you would still want me if you didn’t have the ring.” I frown.


    “I  needed  to  know  that  you  loved  me  because  of  us  and  not  because  of  the  people  before  us,”  he


    whispers.


    I stare at him for a moment.


    My mind literally just exploded. I can’t even… I just… I can’t… what the fuck?


    I knew I loved it when he said because of us, but I had no idea of the significance.


    My eyes meet his. “It is.” I kiss him gently on the lips. “It is because of us that I love you.”


    He smiles warmly. “And it is because of us that I love you.”


    We embrace and hold each other tight. Another thought crosses my mind. “Why the tombstones?”


    He pulls me over to the other bench. “I made a decision that in this life, I wanted to have your things


    waiting for you when you returned,” he replies.


    I frown and he picks up a jewelry box and opens it. My mouth drops open in shock. Beautiful antique


    jewelry sits inside it-ruby’s, emeralds and gold.


    “I remember where we are buried in each life, so I took photos of your tombstones so I could track the


    dates to find the artwork and the rest of your things.”


    I frown. “You remember everything?” I whisper.


    He shrugs. “Yes and no. The memories are simr to the ones you have of childhood. I remember


    some things and then I don’t remember others. A trigger of music or smell or something like that usually


    brings a memory or a time forward in my brain. Some things are as clear as day, and yet others are still


    cloudy.”


    I stare at him. I have no words.


    “I always remember the way you love me and the way you make me feel, though.” He smiles softly.


    The lump in my throat gets really hard and begins to hurt. “But I don’t… I don’t understand this at all.


    Why don’t I remember anything?” I whisper.


    He shrugs. “You do remember something’s. Ester, you remember Ester. The wee girl you drew is our


    daughter Ester.”


    “What?”  I  frown  as  I  put  my  hand  over  my  mouth  in  shock.  “The  little  girl  that  I  drew  is  our


    daughter?”


    He smiles softly. “Her name is Ester and she is every bit as beautiful as you.”


    “Oh my god.” I whisper and then I frown. “Why don’t I remember specifics?”


    “I don’t know. You never do. You just remember that you love me.”


    My eyes search his.