“Too romantic?” I ask the question before I can stop myself.
Surely Florian should get nervous at the sight of a man crawling into bed with him who looks like he escaped from a Valentine’s Day dating show.
But Florian only gives me a wide, affectionate smile, the kind that he never once flashed at me in the six weeks I knew him before today, but which has been his normal expression whenever he sees me now.
“It’s adorable,” he assures me. “You smell like chocolate.”
“Yes.” I hesitate. “I can go to the couch if?—”
“I do not mind the way you smell, Mateo,” Florian says. “I like chocolate. Germany has wonderful chocolate. Very famous.”
“Puerto Rico is not famous for its chocolate,” I say.
“Clearly a mistake,” Florian says, smiling more.
I give an awkward laugh, but Florian does not make a distasteful huff. Instead, he waits for me to get under the blankets, and when he ascertains that I am completely covered, completely ready for the night, he turns off the light.
And I lie in bed, my heart beating wildly.
I didn’t even want to go to the hospital today.
Is this all my fault? If I hadn’t brought that manifestation book with me and if I hadn’t done those manifestation exercises, would Florian have woken up with his memory completely intact? Would he have been shootingme the glares and glowers he sends to the hockey players he’s playing against on the ice? Or would he simply look at me in fear, like people will think he’s gay if he’s in my presence for too long?
Florian shifts, and I stiffen.
To be honest, sleeping next to a much larger man who might wake up and end up upset at you doesn’t fit into typical wellness routines.
“Mateo,” Florian whispers.
“Yes?”
“I know I do not remember you,” he says. “But I will. The doctor says that I might remember in a few days. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe when I wake up!”
“That’s great.”
“I want you to know that I love you.”
The words land on my chest, like the softest, loveliest quilt, and I have to remind myself this is all fake.
He waits.
“I love you too, Florian.”
“I know.” With that, Florian rolls back over.
My heart pounds unevenly as Florian falls asleep beside me.
What have I done? Will he remember tomorrow? Oh, God. What if he remembers tomorrow?
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
Florian
I do not remember everything when I wake up, and when Mateo asks me nervously if I do, I must disappoint him and tell him he remains a stranger.
He does not seem horrified, which is a testament to his strength and kindness.
