“The doctor said to let your memories return on their own, to not try to tell you everything at first. We were hoping that this, out of everything…your art, your work…would jog something.”
Her crystalline blue eyes, when she looked at me, blazed. “I don’t like this, Hayes Michael Ellison.”
Glee hit me with the force of a punch, and I pointed at her. “You remembered my middle name!”
“I…it just popped out —”
“Birdie, don’t you see? Being here is a good thing. It’s helping.”
She studied me uncertainly for a moment before brushing past me and heading back the way we came. “I’m hungry.”
│Birdie
I STALKED PAST HAYES, WHO WAS STILL LEANING IN THE DOORFRAME OF MY STUDIO. It was difficult to see past the sudden anger that flared bright in my vision.
All this time, this piece of me had been here. It was part of me — the click I’d felt when that house came into view had been undeniable. Why, then, hadn’t I come here, rather than to my mother’s home? Why hadn’t Hayes fought harder to bring me here?
And Maggie. The Farmer’s Wife. I was no stranger to that shop. She was no stranger to me.
What were they playing at, keeping this information from me?
Entering the kitchen ahead of Hayes, I gave the sauce a quick stir and turned to pluck a pot from the rack above the island. I filled it with water from the tap and set it on the stovetop to start it boiling. As I crossed the floor to the pocket door that concealed the pantry, Hayes’ voice sounded behind me.
“You look right at home.”
I paused as I opened the door, then stepped inside and grabbed a box of pasta from the shelf. “If you’re implying that I’m remembering something, don’t get too excited. I did this at Mom’s, as well. It’s instinct. Muscle memory, maybe. Nothing more.”
“Sure.”
Hayes pulled a couple of plates from a cabinet and placed them on the counter and then moved to pour a couple of glasses of iced tea. Keeping my face averted, I stood tense and silent at the stove, waiting for the water to boil.
A watched pot never boils.
That’s what I felt like — a watched pot. Everyone was tiptoeing around me, waiting for me to boil. To do something.
“Are you angry with me?”
“Yes.” I dumped some salt in the pot, sighed. “No. I don’t know.” I slapped my palm against the countertop. “I’m just mad, period. I’m sick of this, Hayes. I’m sick of everyone knowing everything there is to know about me but keeping it from me. Keeping secrets, like I’m some fragile child to be protected. I want my life back, damnit! Do you have any idea how stupid I feel, knowing I walked in that shop and talked to that woman as though I’d never met her before? And she just played along. That —”
“Shhh. Shhh.” Hayes’ arms came around me from behind, wrapping me securely across my chest and collar bone. Blinded by the tears in my eyes, I reached up and grabbed hold of his forearms, fully intending to push them away from me. Instead, I found myself curling my fingers into his corded strength and holding on. His breath ghosted along my hair as he bent his face to the crown of my head, and I felt him press his lips to me in a drawn-out kiss. “I’m sorry, baby. I am. None of us really know how to navigate this, but the last thing we wanted to do was make things more difficult for you, I swear.”
His warmth felt so good against my back. It curled around me, protective, seeped into my skin and bones like a part of me. Slowly I relaxed into his hold, taking his statement at face value.
“The water’s boiling,” I said, tapping his forearm after a moment. “Let’s finish the pasta and talk. I’ll try to be rational.”
Another kiss on the top of my head and then he released me, arms opening and hands moving to gently squeeze my shoulders before he stepped back, putting some space between us. I felt immediately bereft and inwardly berated myself. I just told the man that I wanted to keep things in the friend zone, and yet I was craving his touch after the briefest of caresses. I was a mess.
A short while later, we were seated across from one another at the table, plates of fragrant spaghetti in front of us. My stomach growled and I didn’t wait for an invitation.
I slowed a few bites in. “So, Maggie knows me and apparently I created signs for her shop. What else do I not know?”
Hayes answered with only the briefest of pauses. “Maggie is my aunt. That’s how you guys met initially. She came over to see the place and saw your work and got excited. You guys were talking about you supplying painted furnishings for the shop when you had the accident. I was in the process of turning one of the back rooms into a workshop for you.”
I absorbed this. “So, I wasn’t half bad?”
His hazel eyes were warm over his glass as he took a sip of tea. “You are incredibly talented, still. Your life before the accident isn’t a past tense thing, sweetheart.”
And yet that’s exactly what it felt like. Before and after. Previous Me and New Me. Past and present, the accident a dividing line between them that challenged me to either chase what I was or move forward with what I could be.
“Maybe this is the reason marketing never felt exactly right,” I mused. “I hated giving up that job opportunity, but I didn’t grieve it.”
“You majored in marketing because you thought you might need an understanding of it later to help you promote your creative abilities. You never looked at it as a career path.”
I nodded, already feeling better about some of the confusion I’d been feeling over the past several weeks. “This is helping,” I told him. “I already feel more like I’m standing on solid ground. What else?”
“Ahh…that’s the big stuff. Career, people…”
“What about us? I hadn’t told you about the baby, so either I didn’t know yet or I hadn’t gotten around to it. Remi told me —” I broke off, a blush stealing up my neck.
“Remi told you what?” he prompted, lazy gaze tracking the flush with a hint of humor.
I straightened in my chair and directed my attention to my food. “She said we were ‘that couple,’” I finished primly.
“That couple. You’ll have to be more specific, Mini.”
“You know. The one everyone was jealous of, because…” Why was I so shy all of a sudden? I made a show of chewing.
“Because we couldn’t keep our hands off of each other? Accurate.” Hayes sobered. “I really do love you like crazy, Birdie. Everyone knows it. Always have. Always will.”
“Even if I don’t get my memory back?” I let him see the full force of the quiet worry that plagued me constantly when I lifted my eyes to his. “Even if I’m different? And what if I don’t ever remember loving you like that?”
He swallowed but didn’t hesitate. “It’s not conditional. It’s not something I can turn on and off at will. Even if you never remember and decide you want something…someone…else, I’ll always love you.”
For the beat of several hard thumps of my heart in my chest there was only silence in the kitchen, punctuated by the hum of an appliance. His eyes burned into mine. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying, either.”