Confronting it head-on could scare her off, and if the fact is that she just doesn’t recognize me, she could change her mind about wanting to see me as soon as she figures it out.
But if I never say anything, it might just drive me mad.
I need the truth, to understand what happened between us, even if it’s what I’ve feared all along—that Stephanie chose to extricate herself from my life after she realized I was incapable of protecting her.
I can’t stay in limbo forever, waiting for an explanation.
And a gentle nudge—like suggesting we watch her favorite movie—might move us in the right direction without completely scaring her off.
“Sorry to make you wait,” Stephanie says as she steps lightly down the stairs, disrupting my tumultuous thoughts.
“Really, no need to apologize. I’m the one who sprang a date on you,” I say, rising from the couch. “You still up for a movie?”
Stephanie’s eyes flit to the TV, and she smiles. “Sure. Did you already pick one out?”
“We can choose another if you’d prefer,” I say quickly, backpedaling from my plan at the last second.
“The Princess Bride.It looks cute. I’m game.”
Stephanie plops onto the soft chenille cushion next to where I was sitting, leaving me speechless with confusion as I frown down at her.
“You don’t recognize it?” I ask, sinking down onto the couch beside her.
Stephanie laughs. “Honestly, between the shop and Jackson, I just don’t have much time to watch TV—and when I do, it’s usually something Jackson wants to watch, which means we don’t touch anything that has the word ‘princess’ or ‘bride’ in the title.”
My chuckle sounds forced—even if it was a funny comment—because I’m pretty sure my brain just short-circuited.
“What?” Stephanie asks, her tone making me realize I’ve been staring at her for too long.
“Nothing. I’m just surprised you wouldn’t have seen it before. It’s a classic. I’ll put it on, and we can change it if you don’t like it.” Turning to face the screen, I press play and try not to be obvious about watching Stephanie from the corner of my eye.
She settles in, tucking her legs beneath her and putting a pillow on her lap as her knee hovers several inches from mine.
As the sound of an old-school video game issues from her soundbar, that electric energy between us crackles through the air once more.
Stephanie fidgets with the corner of her throw pillow, glancing at me sidelong and smiling shyly when our eyes meet.
What is she thinking right now?
The need to know is slowly making me insane.
God, I can’t do this any longer.
But the fear that grips me when I think of losing her again holds my tongue.
Searching for a way to gently broach the topic, I land on one subject I’m certain she’ll be willing to open up about. Jackson.“So, how long have you and Jackson been living in Chicago?” I ask lightly, leaning back and draping my arm across the top of the couch to mimic nonchalance—even when I’m near humming with tension.
“He was born here,” she says simply, her eyes leaving the screen for a moment as she flashes me another smile.
God, I could live for those smiles.
“And… where are you from?” I press. My heart thunders against my ribs as I wait for the answer, wondering if she’ll lie or dodge the question.
Anxiety flits across her delicate features, and Stephanie bites her lip. “I… actually don’t know,” she admits.
Because she hasn’t memorized that detail of her alias?Frowning, I turn to face her fully, our knees brushing lightly, and I don’t move mine as they remain pressed together.
Color infuses Stephanie’s cheeks, and her eyes drop to her throw pillow as she picks more aggressively at a loose thread. “I woke up in the hospital eight years ago… and that’s the first thing I remember.”
