Pour que tu m'aimes encore...

PART 46.

The wind was blowing outside the small cottage. Amy was sat on the sofa, covered by a fleece blanket and nursing a mug of hot chocolate. Her day had been busy. But then again, mother-hood always was and being a single mother, even more so.

It had been two years now. Ceridwen was eighteen months old now and a sprightly, energetic toddler. She was into everything and was now happily starting to speak.

Amy had lost count of the number of times that she had wanted to run back to Seb. To have him hold her in his arms. To kiss her and whisper romantic words to her in French. To tell her that everything was going to be ok again. But how could she?. Not after he had gone back to her. She had gotten rid of her mobile phone at her uncles' request and had also changed her e mail address. From the moment that she had walked into his office, he had sorted out everything. Amy really didn't know how to thank him but she knew that she would re-pay him one day.

Amy had initially moved in with her uncle when she arrived in London. She needed that new life. Her flat was quickly put for sale and within a week, had sold to a young couple looking to make it big in the capitol. The money allowed her to buy her dream cottage. She had gone back to her roots and moved to west wales. Well, it would be her dream cottage but it needed work doing to it before she could really call it that and Amy was getting the work done slowly; saving money to get it all completed.

Amy didn't need much. Living room, kitchen, bathroom and two bedrooms. It was quaint, picturesque and quiet and she had fallen in love with its character from the moment that she had laid eyes on it, having put an offer on it the same day.

Amy was happy living in a small village again. It gave her the one thing that she needed. That she craved. Anonymity. The media barrage had died down very quickly and she had refused to give any interviews. She wasn't a money grabber and she felt that she owed Seb at least that. The chance to get on with his new life with her... with Jane.

Her uncle had sorted out everything with the tour, having a replacement PA with the guys within twenty four hours. This had meant that the company had not breached its contract. He had personally met with Simon to let him know what had happened. Obviously Simon's main priority was to Il Divo and he agreed to pay Amy her full fee. That is, if Amy didn't go running to the press. Amy would never have done that anyway. It wasn't in her nature.

Her uncle had also kept her employed, allowing her to work from her new home. A satellite job, he called it. But it was perfect. It allowed Amy to be employed, earn a good wage whilst allowing her to be the full-time mother that she wanted to be.

Ceridwen had been born near midnight on a hot, summer's night. It had been a long and trying labour and Amy had been on her own. She had thought that her mother might be with her but her health had failed her again. She wished that she had kept in touch with Lucy. She would have been there for her but she couldn't risk it. Lucy was happy with Carlos and she couldn't bear anything getting back to Seb. She had read in the newspapers that they had recently gotten engaged and she secretly wished them both the best.

Ceridwen had her father's features. Brown hair and piercing green-grey eyes. Every time Amy looked at her, she could see Seb and she soon came to the realisation that he wasn't coming for her. Amy knew that she would always have this piece of his heart that smiled whenever she looked at her. She still wished that she had Seb though. 

Amy had sat on her battered leather sofa night after night, writing letters to Seb that she never posted. The last one had simply read...

"Losing someone isn't an occasion or an event. It doesn't happen once. It happens over and over again. I lose you every time I see a car that looks like yours or when your favourite tv show comes on. I lose you every time I think of kissing you, holding you or wanting you. I go to bed at night and lose you, when I wish I could tell you about my day. And in the morning, when I wake and reach for the empty space across the sheets, I begin to lose you all over again".