“Okay. Good. Now, go get to work.”
I hung up, toggling over to the text, then opening the sonogram image that, yep, showed me exactly nothing but a vague whiteness on a black background.
I downloaded it.
Then went to check my files to make sure it saved, so I could have something made with it for her when it was time to start thinking about showers and whatnot.
“What the hell…” I said, seeing dozens of videos and pictures that I didn’t remember taking.
As a whole, I wasn’t someone who took a lot of pictures. I really preferred to be in the moment. Nothing felt more dystopian to me than being at a concert or something and watching thousands of people watching the thing through the phone screens they were holding up in the air. Taking a quick picture or clip was one thing; living your life through your phone was another.
So, really, I rarely ever looked back through my files since I didn’t expect there to be much to look at.
But clearly, there had been one night when I’d changed my mind about that.
I had a sinking feeling I knew exactly what night that was.
I scrolled down to where they all started. It was a picture of a blackjack table. I guess I wanted to commit the memory of winning that one time.
Weird. But okay.
From there, it was various pictures of random venues around Vegas.
Two different casinos.
A store.
A coffee place.
In all of them?
Me.
And Harrison.
Both looking extremely happy. It was bursting out of our pores.
I kept scrolling, seeing the engagement ring on my finger in a hand that was entwined with his.
There was the dress, which was a picture takenofme by Harrison. I could see him reflected in the mirror behind me as I stood outside of the dressing room.
My heart felt like it was pounding out of my chest.
Why hadn’t I thought to look for any of this sooner? Maybe I wouldn’t have felt so damn confused about how the wedding happened if I had seen the progression of us over the night.
There was another image of us in the backseat of a car, my legs draped over his lap, my head on his shoulder.
I felt a squeeze in my heart, like some part of me remembered that moment, even if no memories surfaced.
There were a bunch of weird, random short videos of him, of me, of us laughing or eating. I could practically see myself getting drunker with how the camera panned around at a nauseating speed.
The last video showed a familiar room.
The tile in the bathroom of Harrison’s hotel suite.
I hit the video and felt my air rush out of me as past-me turned the phone.
Then I was looking into my own face. My makeup was a little smudged, my eyes red. But I seemed lucid.
