I seem to have caught the writing bug and I don't know where it came from...but I like it! Tonight, I sat down and I looked at my original notes for this story, which helped a lot and I managed to get the next four chapters planned. That means that if things go as planned, this story will have a total of 29 Chapters plus one epilogue (which I'm thinking is going to be a bitch to write). It's actually making me kind of sad knowing that this story is coming to an end!

This chapter switches to Emily's point of view, and the rest of the chapters will also have alternating points of view.

You guys have been awesome with the reviews, thank you very much for all your feedback and support!

And as usual I don't own anything.

Chapter 26: Don't You Remember?

Emily POV

Once Naomi shut the door of the apartment behind her, I knew that was it. Naomi wouldn't give me any more chances with her. This time, I'd really fucked it up. It was understandable, really. It was only a matter of time before one of us pushed the other too far. And this time it was quite clear that Naomi had been pushed far beyond her breaking point. I knew Naomi well, so to see her fly off the handle that quickly was alarming to say the least. But I knew I deserved it.

I knew I deserved it, but I didn't feel bad about what I did just yet. Don't get me wrong, watching her leave was difficult. I loved her, and I really thought that this time we'd make things work. It was hard to see her leave, knowing that I'd pushed her to this point. But having her overturn her desk and smash a desk lamp and then telling me that I made a mess out of her life? Well, I wasn't sure about that.

I walked back into the office and started to clean up Naomi's mess - not the mess I made in her life, Naomi's mess. I swept up the shards of broken glass from the desk lamp, and tried to work the scuffs out of the hardwood floor in the office from having the desk crash into it. But the floor was a lost cause.

Just like your relationship.

I sighed heavily and heaved the desk upright and back into place. It was half past ten when I'd finished cleaning up Naomi's mess and remembered that I was supposed to have lunch with my mum at noon. I briefly considered rescheduling and then decided against it, partly just so I could get it over and done with, and partly because I shouldn't have to rearrange my life just because Naomi and I broke up.

I walked into our bedroom and looked at our unmade bed, Naomi's side of the bed still rumpled from the short time she slept in it last night. I sighed again but I still didn't really feel upset.

I got ready and dressed, and was finished just in time to head over to the restaurant and manage to be perfectly on time. I decided to walk since it was a pretty nice day out and since the restaurant wasn't too far. Since it was only lunch, I decided to dress simply in a black skirt and a nice shirt and blazer.

I arrived at the fancy restaurant that my mother had chosen, and was escorted to a secluded table where my mother was already waiting for me. She smiled tightly at me as I sat down.

"Perfectly on time," my mother said, her face looking so tense it seemed as though she was constipated.

I nodded and examined the menu for a few moments before the waiter came over to take our drinks.

"We'll have a bottle of red please, and make it the cheapest one you've got because I really can't tell the difference," I said with a smile as I handed the waiter the wine list. He seemed slightly shocked, and my mother let out a horrified Emily!

I shrugged at the disapproving look that my mother was giving me and continued to look over the menu. What the actual fuck is duck confit and why is everything on here in French?

I sighed heavily. I hadn't even realized this was a French restaurant.

France, Paris, cancelled flights, delayed trains, EuroDisney, shitty hotels, Naomi speaking French, Naomi getting us out of Paris, Naomi building a suitcase fort.

Maybe I was starting to feel just a little upset.

"So what's new, Emily?" My mother asked as the waiter brought over the bottle of red I requested.

"I'm moving to Paris to work with Chanel's makeup department. They want me to help come up with new colours for their Fall/Winter collection."

My mother smiled and congratulated me, but didn't say anything else. I don't know why she bothered to even ask me out to lunch if she wasn't going to speak to me properly. I'd told her about Naomi before, but she was still refusing to accept my sexuality and therefore didn't want to hear about Naomi.

We placed our orders and were greeted once again by silence as soon as the waiter left. My mother took a sip of the cheap wine and grimaced. She looked up at me.

"Is that Naomi girl going with you?" She smiled tightly.

"I thought you said you never wanted to hear about her."

My mother shrugged. "Well, is she going with you?"

I shook my head and drank my whole glass of wine. "No, mother, she's staying here."

My mother looked pleased. "How will that work, then?"

I shrugged. "It won't."

"Oh well," my mother sighed and smiled. "I'm sure you'll find a lovely Frenchman who will be more than pleased to be with you."

I sighed and threw down my napkin before getting up from the table. I was just so tired of my mother's disapproval. Normally, I'd never storm out of a fancy restaurant, let alone storming out of lunch with my mother. But today, I couldn't deal with it. I'd had enough.

"Goodbye, mum."

When I got back to the apartment, I felt disappointed. I don't know whether I expected Naomi to be back at home and to apologize to me or whether I was disappointed in myself for fucking everything up once again.

I walked past Naomi's bookshelf and scanned the titles of her favourite books, and went through all her music, and went through all her movies. I smiled as I sat a battered copy of Moulin Rouge, and remembered the first time we watched it together and how surprised I was when she cried like a baby at the end. She acted like she was all big and tough, going off to politically unstable countries to find the truth in all the injustice, but I knew Naomi was one big softie. And I knew that she really did love me. That I'd managed to be let in deep enough to see the real Naomi, the big softie Naomi who cried at Moulin Rouge and woke me up in the middle of the night to make love just because she couldn't stop herself from showing me how much she loved me.

I smiled watery smiles at the pictures she had of us together. There was one empty photo frame that I'd given her at Christmas. It was a silver frame made out of little Eiffel towers. It was for our trip to Paris that we never got to take. I'd told her that I wanted us to stand in front of the Eiffel tower and take one of those cheesy couple pictures, and Naomi had smiled at the idea and kissed me.

I grabbed the frame off the bookshelf and threw it in the garbage. Because it was never going to happen now, and I knew that if I was Naomi, I wouldn't want that frame hanging around to remind me of what would never be. So I threw it out for her. And I threw out her Adele album, because Katie had told me how often Naomi listened to it while I was in London. I didn't want her to mope around.

I walked into our bedroom and took off my stupid skirt and my stupid shirt and my stupid blazer. I got into Naomi's side of our unmade bed, and I buried my face in her pillow so I would smell her. And I grabbed her nightshirt from underneath her pillow and I put it on. It almost felt okay, to lay on her side of the bed and be in her nightshirt. It was like I was wrapped up in Naomi.

But I wasn't wrapped up in Naomi and I missed her arms wrapped around me, and I missed the smell of her skin and the way she'd kiss me in the morning. Her side of the bed and her nightshirt couldn't be a replacement for the real Naomi, even if they did smell like her.

It really was all my fault. And it really was the mess I made out of Naomi's life that ruined us. Right now, a baby didn't matter. My job in Paris didn't matter. Even the realization that I didn't have anyone to inject me with the fertility drugs I needed so I could go through the egg extraction for Katie and Effy didn't really matter.

I didn't have Naomi anymore and she was the only thing that mattered.

So I cried. I cried so hard that I worked myself into a full blown panic attack. I cried so hard that I made myself sick.

And none of it mattered because she was gone and I had only myself to blame.

Thank you so much for reading and please don't forget to leave me a review and let me know what you thought! Did you like Emily's POV and being able to get inside her head?