Fuck.
I slump down onto the couch.Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
This was in the duffle bag?
I reach for the envelope on the table. There’s just one word on it.Ava.
Not bothering with a shower, change of clothes, or… anything, I stride out the front door and jog all the way to the coffee house.
“Hi, Trevor.” Leah takes in my attire. “Nice uniform. How was your first shift?”
“Good.” I walk through to the back, not paying attention to anything or anyone else. Ava’s not in the back room or the office. I pop my head out front. “Has Ava been here yet?”
“Nope. Took the morning off.” Leah laughs. “Guess you got your signals crossed.”
“I guess we did,” I say, rushing out the front door.
I turn and go down the street and into Gigi’s Flower Shop. “Maddie, have you heard from Ava today?”
Her eyebrows rise. “Can’t find your wife? Trouble in paradise?”
“Something like that.”
“Jeez, Trevor, what did you do now?” Her demeanor instantly changes from cautiously playful to downright defensive. “You didn’t take off again, did you?”
“I didn’t take off, Maddie. I promised her I wouldn’t.” I run a frantic hand through my hair. “It was something I did… before.”
Her head tilts to the side. “Have you remembered something?”
“No. But I found evidence of me being a complete idiot.”
She nods to a display case of flowers. “Guess you’ll be making a purchase then?”
I snort, knowing she’s absolutely right. “Give me your biggest bundle of peonies.”
Her head shakes as she rings me up. “Trevor, she’s one of my best friends in the whole world. She’s already been through so much. Please don’t hurt her.”
“I don’t intend to. But I did something…” I close my eyes. “Fuck. I just did something stupid.”
Her jaw falls open and her eyes spit fire. “Trevor Criss, did you just find out you cheated on her?”
“God, no.”
In my head, though, I’m wondering if it’s possible. I have no idea when I wrote the letter as it wasn’t dated. And I’ve no clue as to where my head was after. What if I tried to get over her by sleeping with another woman? Or several of them?
Shit.For the first time, I both want and don’t want to get my memory back. If I did, would it reveal something horrible? On the other hand, it could exonerate me of all the monstrous things I’m now imagining I could have done.
“Well then.” She hands me the flowers. “Go get your girl.”
Exiting her shop, I look left—beyond the coffee house, the statue in the roundabout, the park. Because I know in my heart she’s at the tree.
I take off running, flowers gripped in one hand, pounding the pavement with every step, wanting to get to her quickly, knowing every minute I’m not there is another minute she’s in pain.
I slow as I approach her, both because I’m out of breath and because I’m not sure what she’s thinking.
She must hear my footsteps and heavy breathing because she looks up, eyes the flowers, and gives me a sad smile. “So you saw the letter?”
I nod and sit, setting the flowers at her feet.
