“The second one.” I lay a whiny Poopy on my shoulder and scratch behind her ears. “How’s she meant to walk in there and talk to the guy who is, if we take him at his word, her fiancé, but she’s bringing her lover along? How’s that supposed to create a healthy space to talk?”
“Her lover?” He stops beside me, his shoulder brushing mine, so we’re both facing the glass. “Is that what you are? Just a dirty vacation fling while she’s out here in Plainview experiencing a medical episode?”
I glance his way, my jaw gritting and my teeth gnashing.
“You think he’ll be understanding about what you two have? Like,it’s totally cool, babe. You forgot I existed, so I’m completely okay with the fact you’re shacking up with someone else now.”
“You keep labeling us,” I grit out. “Dirty vacation fling. Shacking up. It’s pissing me off.”
“And yet, you send her in there without you.” He rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, his eyes flickering to the opening door in the next room. “We’ll pull her out if it starts going bad.” He shifts on his feet, widening his stance just a fraction, the way we do at the gym. “Billy isn’t sleeping on the job.”
ROUND FORTY-SIX
ROSE
Billy approaches the door ahead of me, carefully twisting the handle and pushing it wide without a word. I had no clue silence could be louder than a thousand bass drums working in sync. A hundred freight trains skidding on the tracks at once. I follow him in, sandwiched by Cliff’s stoney, strong presence at my back, so when all three of us are in the room and Cliff closes the door, I come to a stop on the opposite side of the table, my back to the glass pane we’ve spent what feels like a lifetime looking through, and drawing a heavy, shuddering breath, I bring my eyes up and stop on the soft, concerned stare of the man on the other side.
Tears fill his eyes, the gentle, whimsical kind, and his lips curl into a kind smile. “Rose.” He pushes out of his chair and reaches across the table. “I’ve finally found?—”
I take a step back, clasping my hands together and holding them close to my body.
Don’t touch. Don’t assume. Don’t even try.
“Found—You’re…” His mouth opens and closes, guppy style, and that smile he wore falls into a pained grimace. “I’m sorry. You’re right.” He dips his hands into his pockets, gulping and nodding. “I’m so sorry. They told me you were in an accident. They said you lost your memories.”
“I don’t know who you are.” My voice crackles and breaks. Weak and watery. “I don’t remember you.”
He nods, licking his lips as he backs up and lowers into his chair. “I know. They said…” He looks to Billy. “They already told me. But it’s hard to look at you and reconcile the memory stuff when I know you’re just so…” He pulls his hands out and lays them in his lap. “You’re smart and witty and…” He shakes his head. “Fast. You’ve always been so intelligent and certain of who you are. It’s taking me a minute to adapt.”
“Would you like to take a seat, Rose?” Billy pulls out a chair on this side of the table, tipping his chin downwards to urge me forward. “We’ll settle in and chat.”
“H-how did you know your name was Rose?” Darcy watches me, dark brown eyes following my every move. Every jerky reaction. Every shuddering breath. “They said—” He looks to Billy again. “The police said you’ve been calling yourself Rose for quite a while.”
“Sometimes I remember things.” I feel the warmth in my face. The pounding pulse in my neck. I slowly lower into my seat, but I don’t drag it forward and tuck myself in at the table. I don’t dare place myself close enough that our feet might touch. “Sometimes something just feels right.”
“Do you remember me at all?” He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Maybe not before, but now… Now that you’re looking at me.”
I shake my head, firming my lips and crossing my legs. “I thought your name once while I was asleep. A while ago,” I explain. “I didn’t remember it, but I was told I said your name.”
“While you were sleeping?” His eyes jump over my right shoulder. To Cliff. To the man he’s made assumptions about. Then he brings them back to me again. “That’s good, right? That you dreamed of me?”
Maybe.
Maybe not.
I don’t know.
“Maybe you could ask questions, Rose?” Cliff inches forward and presses his hand to my shoulder.
Darcy’s eyes drop to where we touch. They narrow and burn. But he’s careful, breathing and pasting on a kind smile. “Sure.” He brings his focus back to my face. “You could ask me anything you want. Anything at all.”
“How long have we been together?”
“It’ll be seven years in October.” He licks his lips, reaching up and scratching the side of his neck. “We met at a Halloween carnival. It was extra cold that year, winter was rolling in early, and you and I had both stopped at a coffee cart at the same time. We got to talking while they were making our drinks and then…” He shrugs. “We never stopped.”
“I’m twenty-five years old?”
He nods. Easy. Comfortable. Relaxed. “Yes. You would have turned twenty-five a couple of months ago.”
