“He’s right,” Jack said, cupping Mark on the shoulder. “Let’s get out of here, boys. Give the man some space to think, to rest, to heal. He’ll do the right thing.”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “Maybe you guys should do some good long thinking too. Imagine how it would feel if I asked—no, demanded—any one of you to disappear from her life.” If this was what surviving looked like for me, I would have rather not.
Aaron suddenly lurched from behind Mark, his face pinched and tense, his eyes red rimmed. “I don’t have to imagine,” he seethed. “Not even three months ago, you asked me to do just that. And you know what?” He leaned toward me and dropped his voice low. “I fucking did it. So look, I get it. I didn’t believe she’d been kidnapped at first. That’s on me. I tried to apologize at least a dozen times. You were fucking there for at least half of them. But guess what? When you came to me and said you thought it would be better for her mental health if I wasn’t around all the time, I packed my shit up and moved away from the only two people who ever cared about me. I gave up everything because I thought—hoped—it would stop her from hurting. I wouldn’t be standing in this room right now, asking for something this huge, if I didn’t believe it would help her.” He shook his head. “As you helped me load up the last of my belongings that day, you looked me dead in the eye and told me we were a family. And one day, when she was better and healthy again, she’d come back to me.” He drew in a heartbreakingly shaky breath. “Take your own advice for once and do what’s best for Remi.”
He might as well have dropped a boulder off a mountain onto my chest. Everything he’d said was true, not even the first embellishment to make himself look better.
But for fuck’s sake. This wasn’t the same.
Remi wasn’t angry at me. She wasn’t hurt or betrayed by me. They were asking me to walk away from the only woman I had ever truly loved. Not just a break or time apart.
It wasn’t closing a chapter or turning a page.
It was burning the entire fucking book.
If I walked away, Remi Grey would never come back to me. Because in her mind, I didn’t exist.
I was silent as they filed out of my room. Tyson followed them out to give me some much-needed time alone.
Maybe it was all for nothing.
Maybe she’d get her memories back and give me absolute hell for not calling or coming to see her on my own.
But was that what I truly wanted? For her to remember all the pain and trauma? For the darkness to consume her once again?
There was no winning in this situation. It was a zero-sum game. I wanted my Sally back more than my next breath, but what if Remi could exist without her? Beyond that, what if she could thrive and find true happiness again?
Only time would tell—slow, agonizing, life-altering time.
Remi
“I guess this is goodbye,” Dad said, standing in the doorway of The Wave, fighting back tears as he stared into the empty dining room.
There were still a few more weeks before he and Crystal Dawn left Atlanta for the Sunshine State, but I’d shut down operations for eight days in order to schedule some much-needed renovations. Like, say, removing my framed third-grade art project from the wall at booth twelve and the family photo beside table nine that still had my estranged mother holding up bunny ears behind me at my sixth birthday party.
Over the years, the booths had been reupholstered, and one by one, the tables had been replaced as the need arose, but they were still the same laminated wood, the benches still cloaked in red vinyl with white trim as they had been the day my dad had opened the doors.
The Wave was something of a Grey family time capsule, and while I loved the nostalgia that hit me every time I walked through its doors, it was long overdue for upgrades and well-earned attention. Nothing crazy. I wasn’t trying to reinvent the wheel. The Wave was a burger joint through and through. A successful one at that. But making things a smidge more modern might bring in new patrons. The majority of which hopefully paid for their own food, though I was prepared to carry on my father’s loving legacy of feeding the ones who couldn’t. Yes. Even Heather who had spread rumors about me having an STD in high school.
Forgive, forget, and French fries. That was my new motto.
Hooking my arm through Dad’s, I leaned into his warm side, thinking about how I would miss him. But I was also excited for him and his new adventure. “Don’t worry. I’ll take great care of the place.”
He tipped his head, resting it on top of mine. “I know you will. And if it becomes too much for you, we can always sell it.”
“For the last time, we aren’t selling. Mark says Shay has tons of experience in restaurant management and can handle The Wave blindfolded. You liked her, right?”
“I didn’t like her idea about charging for things like bacon and sautéed mushrooms. All the extras for free has been my rule since day one, but she’s mean enough to keep the vendors in line, so I’m not sure it matters if I like her or not. You’ll need her.”
I laughed. “It will be fine, Dad. I swear.”
He bounced his hip off mine, signaling a change of topic away from the finality of his retirement. “How’s your head, kiddo?”
“Still crazy like you.”
He frowned. “You know what I mean.”
“I do. And I told you to stop asking months ago. My answer’s still the same.”
“I just…worry about you.”
I smiled. “Tell me something I don’t know. But I promise, if any light bulbs go off, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Kind of like I was the first one to know about this new boyfriend of yours?”
Damn Aaron and his big mouth. My old man and Aaron were tight. I should have known that word would get around before I had a chance to spread the news myself. Aaron had decent parents, good people, but he’d adopted my father as his own back while we were still in high school. My roommates were losing a huge influence in their lives too. His move to Miami was going to suck for all of us.
“I was going to tell you about him except I remembered that in college, after I introduced you to Stephen Harris, you named a burger after him.”
“What? He was a good guy who was planning to go to law school. He seemed like a keeper to me.”
“He was a boring guy who collected commemorative postage stamps. Bowen is actually dream-guy material. So I was waiting until I was sure I had him on lock. I couldn’t risk you falling in love with him and making me order the Michaels special with cheese anytime I came in for lunch if things didn’t work out.”
My dad chuckled and pulled me in for a tight hug. “Fair enough. You still coming over this weekend?”
No. I wasn’t. Not that my father’s suggestion of watching baseball and having a beer with me and Crystal Dawn as his big sendoff celebration wasn’t the saddest thing I’d ever heard. It totally was. But because, at exactly six thirty p.m. on Saturday, Mark was going to fake a fryer emergency only my father and all of his restaurant expertise could fix. When he arrived at The Rusty Nail, his closest friends and The Wave regulars would jump out and yell surprise instead.
“Yep,” I lied.