Patience, sweetheart. Give me time.I start at the sound of Noah’s voice, which sounds eerily like Ashton’s, in my head when the man I envision him looking like is sitting across from me. Ashton doesn’t notice, thank goodness.
Katie approaches wearing that same gossip-spreading smile pasted as she sets down our coffees. “Enjoy. Let me know if y’all need anything else.”
“Thanks, Katie,” I reply, using my friendly teacher voice and leveling her with another stare. She grins wider and walks away. There’s no chance of me getting out of this meeting without the whole town talking.Why, oh why did I pick this location?
“What inspired the story?” Ashton asks, his voice intense. “You’ve shared on social media that you were on vacation when an accident happened, leaving you in a coma and waking up with amnesia. Does that have anything to do with the story you’re writing?”
“I’m not sure if it’s directly connected or not. I just know when I woke up, I had this image of a man I’d never met before at the forefront of my mind.” I leave out mentioning once more that he looks just like said man. “That was it. The rest of the story started coming to me in bits and pieces, and my therapist suggested it could be a memory. However, it doesn’t feel like it belongs to me, you know? I think it’s the Lord putting a story on my heart to tell. I’ve always wanted to be a writer.”
“How can you be certain it’s not a memory?”
Ashton’s question strikes me. “I guess I can’t be certain it’s not, but I feel like I’d know. It’s all fiction in my head. I still wake up and think I’m in my early twenties instead of my late twentiessometimes. That’s more real to me than this random guy and story taking up space in my brain.”
I’m insulted, my little author,Noah pushes back, but his tone is light, feigning offense. I fight off the smile while he says,I’m not some rando dude in your head. You’ve crafted me with care and precision, and I…
I continue myotherthoughts, ignoring Noah droning on about how he’s real enough. “Besides, nobody can verify the story or the man. I’m sure I would have told my parents about him. Definitely would have told my best friend, Sam. There’s no record of him amid the pictures I took on my phone while in Bora Bora. No texts, no number. Noth—.”
I pause in my speech, wondering why I dumped all of that onto this stranger. But before I can succumb to embarrassment, he hums, nodding his head as if he understands.
“You haven’t shared the details about what happened to you to cause the amnesia. Why is that?” Ashton narrows his eyes as if he’s deep in thought before he runs a hand over the dark scruff on his face.
“I—” I trail off, transfixed on the brick wall behind Ashton. Every time I focus too long on trying to recall what led to the amnesia, a blanket of sadness covers me. I only know what the doctors told me; I have no idea what led to that fateful moment. And why is he pressing me about this? We don’t know each other like that. Though I’m frustrated, I continue with gentleness to not stir trouble. “I don’t think I’m ready to share about it. That moment, though I can’t remember why, feels intimate and a bit gutting if I’m being honest. When I try to think about it, it’s like something inside of me is ripping. Though, I can say it was a Jet Ski accident. I just don’t know how or why it happened.”
Snapping my gaze back to Ashton, his expression resembles someone offering condolences at a funeral. He’s opening his mouth to respond when his attention is pulled to someonebehind me. I turn around to find a mid-sized, stocky man with slicked-back brown hair hovering over my shoulder.
The forgettable ghost from my past that won’t go away.
Bryan.
An unexpected shiver runs down my spine, and I straighten as if my body is on high alert.
“Oh, hi,” I state with a tight smile. “It’s good to see you, Bryan.”
I glance around the coffee shop, and the few townsfolk secretly eyeing me and Ashton have made their gazes non-conspicuous.
“Hi,” he says in a voice that grates my nerves. I don’t recall everything that happened between us, only what my parents, brother, and Sam could recount; they didn’t like him much, apparently. I’m sure there are things that only Bryan and I know about, but I don’t care to fill in the gaps with a man who left me standing at an altar on our wedding day just a week and a half after my birthday.
Bryan waves one hand awkwardly, then starts pulling at his mid-sized beard. Everything about this guy is mid—his voice, his stature, and his personality. We've spoken here and there over the past year, and with every encounter, I cringe harder at the pre-amnesia version of me who was going to marry this man.What was I thinking?
He continues to stand there silently, his eyes darkening for a split second before they return to their usual glassy look. I swallow, discomfort blanketing my shoulders as I shift my attention between him and Ashton. Ashton stands, takes a step around our table, and holds out his hand. “Hey, man. I’m Ashton. Can we help you with something?”
“Uh, no. Just saying hi to my fiancée.” He takes Ashton’s hand, and I watch amazed at how Ashton’s hand dwarfs Bryan’s.
“Fiancée?” Ashton asks, arching that thick eyebrow and glancing down at me. His tanned face pales two shades.
I shift in my seat. “Ex. He left me at the altar before I went and got myself a big dose of amnesia. Guess that was for the best.” I attempt a laugh, but it comes out breathy and shaky with nerves over this public encounter.
Bryan winces, yanking his hand away from Ashton’s. “Well, Bryan. I think the woman is uncomfortable around you, so I’d appreciate it if you would allow us to continue our meeting in peace.”
Bryan shrinks back, but there’s no trace of an expression outside of his tight jaw. It’s as if he’s indifferent to the fact that I’m having coffee with this runway-model-looking man.
I, however, care greatly that Ashton is standing as a brick wall between me and Bryan. It’s male-main-character energy. My heart rate has spiked, and I don’t need a mirror to know a pink blush is blending into my cream, freckled face. This has got to be the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.Men really help women out like this in real life? It’s not just a thing of romance novels?
“Uh, right. Yeah.” Bryan awkwardly turns around and heads toward the counter. Ashton sits back down and sips his coffee while I stare at him in disbelief.
“You were going to marry that guy?” Ashton’s voice is full of incredulity, that eyebrow of his rising once more. Ashton, unlike Bryan, is animated.
I stifle a laugh at the same time relief seeps into my skin. “Yeah, I guess the old Esme planned to. He did us a favor leaving her at the altar. Even if it did end with amnesia.”
