“It’s my fault, actually,” I find myself saying. “I left the supplies at the hotel that we were staying at for your last away game.”
“Oh.”
“I’m sorry, Florian. But we don’t need them now.”
“Because my memory hasn’t returned yet.”
“It wouldn’t be right,” I say softly.
None of this is right.
God, I am lying, lying, lying.
I step back. I rake my hand through my hair.
“Your hair is beautiful already, Mateo,” Florian says.
“Oh.” I nod more times than necessary. “Good.”
He gives me a beatific smile.
“You know maybe—” My heart thuds. “You’re feeling better. And maybe you should learn some things.”
“I love learning things,” Florian says enthusiastically.
“I—”
I can’t tell him.
I can’t.
I should. I know I should. But I can’t.
“Maybe later.”
Florian gives me the cheerful smile he always gives me now. “Let’s go to the pharmacy.”
“The pharmacy?”
“I noticed one when we drove to the apartment.”
“You did.”
“I was trying to remember,” Florian says. “I was hoping something would trigger my memory.” His eyes round. “Maybe the pharmacy will trigger me!”
“Well.” I look down.
This is bad.
“We didn’t—” I pause. “We only went once before. We,uh, bought a generous amount of condoms the first time we went.”
Florian views me happily. “Because we knew even then that our love was so strong that it would carry us through a whole bag.”
“Yes.” I nod multiple times. “Exactly.”
“And then for the next five weeks we barely talked and just had sex.”
“Well. We did talk some,” I say. “Not about family history. But other things.”
