“It would mess with anyone, Jones.”
“How do we fix it?” I ask, my voice sounding as desperate as I’m beginning to feel.
“To start, we do this.” He clicks his pen and opens his notebookagain.“We talk, ask questions, get your neuropathways firing.”
“Sounds simple enough.”
“Shouldn’t be too hard. So…” He pushes his glasses to the top of his head and rubs at his brow. “Let’s start with the party. Your last full memory, right?” When I nod, he instructs, “Tell me about it. Tell me about the night you met Emma.”
“Oh, man, alright.”
A warm, electric rush glides over my skin, slowly cascading down to my toes before lifting off me like steam. The memory is vivid and distant all at once. I can’t remember the date or what I was wearing. But I can rememberher. Every marvelous, earth-shattering part of her. And that settles in my chest, pulsing in time with my heartbeat.
I remember her. Even if it was fifteen years ago, remembering her feels essential, like she’s the one thing my mind refuses to let go of.
I walk Liam through the story of meeting her, sparing him the gooey details. I don’t tell him how her brown hair shimmered copper when certain light found it, or how her green eyes lingered on my neck long enough to set my pulse on a reckless sprint. I don’t mention her red lipstick or the way I nearly lost every shred of restraint when she bit her bottom lip.
“I let her win at darts, then she had to leave.”
I watch the sun slowly set behind Liam as the memory of watching her walk away blends with the skyline, like a mirage in an old country movie, her steps on the hardwood floor still sounding in my ears.
“I didn’t think I’d ever see her again.” I practically whimper this.
“So you don’t remember seeing her the next day?” Liam’s eyes are unreadable, the doctor mask clearly in place.
“I don’t.” I rub at my face, aggravated that nothing after that night has come back yet.
“Well, you did. I remember you raced out of class and sprinted across the campus lawn to get to the art building.” He scoffs again, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips this time. “You were so gone for her after one night.”
“Can you blame me?” I don’t expect him to answer, but he does.
“You guys are really great together—even if she hates me.”
“From what I was told, it’s for good reason.”
He waves this off. “Everyone is better off for it anyway. They’re all happy, aren’t they?”
“They are,” I agree, knowing he’s talking about Ellie as well. I don’t know his reasoning for leaving her, but knowing Liam and seeing the way he’s been glancing at her this afternoon, he’ll probably question that decision for the rest of his life.
“Alright, so I think the next thing to do is talk to Emma. Let her share her side of your story, and maybe that can elicit a positive response.” He taps the side of his head. “And I’ll get out of here so you can do yourgame night.” He gives a mocking tone, but I can tell he’s jealous he has to leave.
I laugh as we both stand to go back inside. I’m not sure if we made any progress withthis—whatever he wants to call this—but I can’t fight the urge to pick his brain while I can, even if it’s just for one simple confirmation.
“Let me ask you something,” I murmur, glancing through the window to ensure Emma and Ellie are out of earshot. They’re sitting on the couch, flipping through a binder while Benny moves around the dining room table, setting up a board game. “How much do you know about my marriage?”
“What do you mean?” Liam arches a brow, his curiosity piqued.
“Like, did I tell you any specifics? Was I happy? Werewehappy?” I rub the back of my neck, unease rising at the possiblity of him saying no.
“You were. You are,” he reassures, patting me on the shoulder. “I’ve never seen anyone more in love than you two.”
My unease dissipates at his words, and my limbs slacken in relief. Liam is a lot of things—negative in most areas, if we’re being fully transparent—but the one thing he will never be is dishonest. If there was something going on in my marriage, he’d tell me. Amnesia or not.
“But I will say…” He’s now whispering, glancing behind me into the house. The air in my lungs goes hot and thick, sticking to the back of my throat. “We haven’t talked about you two in a while. Like, almost two years. Anytime I would ask how you guys were, you’d brush me off and start talking about work. I never wanted to press. It’s your life, and I assumed it was just busy with the kids and everything that happened a couple years ago.”
“What happened a couple years ago?”
“Alright, boys, session is over.”
