Me Before You by Jojo Moyes

p326
'You don't need me to tell you it wasn't your fault,' he said, quitely.

p.327
'Some mistakes... just have greater consequences than others. But you don't have to let that night be the thing that defines you.'
I felt his head tilt against mine.
'You, Clark, have the choice not to let that happen.'

p.350
'Do you know something?'
I could have looked at his face all night. The way his eyes wrinkled at the corners. That place where his neck met his shoulder. 'What?'
'Sometimes, Clark, you are pretty much the only thing that makes me want to get up in the morning.'

p.469
'I missed you.'
He seemed to relax then. 'Come over here.' And then, when I hesitated. 'Please. Come on. Right here, on the bed. Right next to me.'
I realized then that there was actual relief in his expression. That he was pleased to see me in a way he wasn't actually going to be able to say. And I told myself that it was going to have to be enough. I would do the thing he had asked for. That would have to be enough.
I lay down on the bed beside him and I placed my arm across him. I rested my head on his chest, letting my body absorb the gentle rise and fall of it. I could feel the faint pressure of Will's fingertips on my back, his warm breath in my hair. I closed my eyes, breathing in the scent of him, still the same expensive cedar-wood smell, despite the bland freshness of the room, the slightly disturbing scent of disinfectant underneath. I tried not to think of anything at all. I just tried to be, tried to absorb the man I loved through osmosis, tried to imprint what I had left of him on myself. I did not speak. And then I heard his voice. I was so close to him that when he spoke it seemed to vibrate gently through me.
'Hey, Clark,' he said. 'Tell me something good.'
I stared out of the window at the bright-blue Swiss sky and I told him a story of two people. 'Two people who shouldn't have met, and who didn't like each other much when they did, but who found they were the only two people in the world who could possibly have understood each other. And I told him of the adventures they had, the places they had gone, and the things I had seen that I had never expected to. I conjured for him electric skies and iridescent seas and evenings full of laughter and silly jokes. I drew a world for him, a world far from a Swiss industrial estate, a world in which he was still somehow the person he had wanted to be. I drew the world he had created for me, full of wonder and possibility. I let him know a hurt had been mended in a way that he couldn't haven known, and for that alone there would always be a piece of me indebted to him. And as I spoke I knew there would be the most important words I would ever say and that it was important that they were the right words, that they were not propaganda, an attempt to change his mind, but respectful of what Will had said.
I told him something good.
Time slowed, and stilled. It was just the two of us, me murmuring in the empty, sunlit room. Will didn't say much. He didn't answer back, or add a dry comment, or scoff. He nodded occasionally, his had pressed against mine, and murmured, or let out a small sound that could have been satisfaction at another good memory.
'It has been,' I told him, 'the best six months of my entire life.'
There was a long silence.
'Funnily enough, Clark, mine too.'
And then, just like that, my heart broke. My face crumpled, my composure went and I held him tightly and I stopped caring that he could feel the shudder of my sobbing body because grief swamped me. It overwhelmed me and tore at my heart and my stomach and my head and it pulled me under, and I couldn't bear it. I honestly thought I couldn't bear it.

p.478 Epilogue

Clark,
A few weeks will have passed by the time you read this (even given your newfound organizational skills, I doubt you will have made it to Paris before early September). I hope the coffee is good and strong and the croissants fresh and that the weather is still sunny enough to sit outside on one of those metallic chairs that never sit quite level on the pavement. It's not bad, the Marquis. The steak is also good, if you fancy coming back for lunch. And if you look down the road to your left you will hopefully see L'Artisan Parfumeur where, after you read this, you should go and try the scent called something like Papillons Extreme (can't quite remember). I always did think it would smell great on you.
Okay, instructions overs. There are a few things I wanted to say and would have told you in person, but a) you would have got all emotional and b) you wouldn't have let me say all t his out loud. You always did talk too much.
So here it is; the cheque you got in the initial envelope from Michael Lawler was not the full amount, but just a small gift, to help you through your first weeks of unemployment, and to get you to Paris.
When you get back to England, take this letter to Michael in his London office and he will give you the relevant documents so you can access an account he has set up for me in your name. This account contains enough for you to buy somewhere nice to live and to pay for your degree course and your living expenses while you are in full-time education.
My parents will have been told all about it. I hope that this, and Michael Lawler's legal work, will ensure there is as little fuss as possible.
Clark, I can practically hear you starting to hyperventilate from here. Don't start panicking, or trying to give it away - It's not enough for you to sit on your arse for the rest of your life. But it should buy your freedom, both from that claustrophobic little town we both call home, and from the kind of choices you have so far felt you had to make.
I'm not giving the money to you because I want you to feel wistful, or indebted to me, or to feel that it's some kind of bloody memorial.
I'm giving you this because there is not much that makes me happy any more, but you do.
I am conscious that knowing me has caused you pain, and grief, and I hope that one day when you are less angry with me and less upset you will see not just that I could only have done the thing that I did, but also that this will help you live a really good life, a better life, than if you hand't met me.
You're going to feel uncomfortable in your new world for a bit. It always does feel strange to be knocked out of your comfort zone. But I hope you feel a bit exhilarated too. Your face when you came back from diving that time told me everything; there is a hunger in you, Clark. A fearlessness. You just buried it, like most people do.
I'm not really telling you to jump off tall buildings, or swim with whales or anything (although I would secretly love to think you were), but to live boldly. Push yourself. Don't settle. Wear those stripy legs with pride. And if you insist on settling down with some ridiculous bloke, make sure some of this is squirrelled away somewhere. Knowing you still have possibilities is a luxury. Knowing I might have given them to you has alleviated something for me.
So this is it. You are scored on my heart, Clark. You were from the first day you walked in, with your ridiculous clothes and your bad jokes and you complete inability to ever hide a single thing you felt. You changed my life so much more than this money will ever change yours.
Don't think of me too often. I don't want to think of you getting all maudlin. Just live well.
Just live.
Love,
Will

at the Rue des Francs Bourgeois (dark-green cafe)

Me Before You by Jojo Moyes