Forget Me Not (Escape Contemporary Romance) Read Online Free PDF Page A

struggling with his feelings at the moment. Having Claire’s personal space invaded by her ex, having to play nursemaid to him, couldn’t have been easy for her.
    Claire swept one had towards the sofa. ‘Why don’t you take a seat while I get dinner ready. It’s getting near that time of evening.’
    ‘I thought I might look through your photo albums, if that’s okay with you. I presume we’ve got some.’
    Surprise washed over her face. ‘Of course. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. They’re in the sideboard against the wall. I’ll be in the kitchen.’
    Claire turned and walked away. Stefan opened the cabinet and grabbed the albums, settling himself down on the sofa. Minutes later, he heard the sound of the fridge door swishing shut, a cupboard door being opened and a gush of water from the tap. These were familiar sounds but he felt like he was hearing them for the first time.
    How was he ever going to get used to this? Any of it. He hadn’t even faced the outside world yet, just the cloistered environment of the hospital. Living with Claire in this apartment was the easy part, and it would only get harder from here on in.
    He had to find out more about himself, and the photo album was one way of doing it. What was that old saying? A picture tells a thousand words. Time to see what pictures had to say about Stefan Porter.
    The albums were all neatly laid out, the pictures labelled. There were photographs of him and Claire with friends—barbecues and picnics—pictures of Claire’s mother, and someone called Sophie, who looked like a darker haired version of Claire. There were pictures of them in full ski gear standing at the tops of mountains, at Parisian cafes and in front of the Eiffel Tower. They must have taken lots of vacations together.
    Stefan looked pretty much the same, just younger and leaner, but there was something in his expression that jumped out at him. The man in the photo seemed extraordinarily confident, smug even. Staring at one picture, where he stood with his arm around Claire, Stefan thought he looked rather like the cat that had got the cream. With good reason.
    He’d only ‘known’ Claire for a few hours, but what did he truly know about her? Next to nothing. Yet, he did trusted her.
    Looking through the wedding album, he finally came across photos of his parents. Only then did he realise that they’d been absent in earlier photos. One look at his father and there was no doubting the family resemblance. Stefan hoped he didn’t look quite as arrogant as the older man, although.
    The phone had rung a couple of times while he was occupied, but Claire must have picked up the calls in the kitchen because they soon stopped. Stefan skipped through the albums quickly, trying to digest as much information as possible, but found himself glancing up at the kitchen door. That spicy smell was distracting, and he found it difficult to concentrate.
    Finally, unable to bear his hunger it any longer, he put the albums aside and stepped into the kitchen to investigate. Hit by the smell of a thick wave of complex spices, he leaned in the doorway, breathing it in.
    ‘What is that wonderful smell?’
    Claire glanced up at him, her gaze retuning to the items on the stove. ‘Indian.’
    She’d pulled her hair back into a ponytail of shimmering blonde, baring the lovely neck and face. There was a hint of perspiration at her brow, her pale skin glowing. Still dressed in the skirt and reddy-brown top she’d worn at the hospital, Claire looked a little overdressed but comfortable nonetheless.
    ‘You’re just in time to set the table.’ She nodded towards the cutlery, plates and serving bowls piled with rice and curry.
    ‘You must be a good cook,’ Stefan said, doing as he was told.
    ‘You’re quite the chef yourself, too.’
    ‘Am I?’
    ‘You wouldn’t approve of my methods. You were always a grinding-your-own-spices-in-a-mortar-and-pestle kind of guy, whereas I like a little