We had so much fun the one night we were together that my clearest memories are of us laughing. On what could have been the worst night of my life, I’d laughed harder than I ever had before. And came harder than I ever had before, too. Our chemistry was off the charts. I’d have to be insane to not have at least a little hope that we could be something more.
But I should have known better. A guy like that doesn’t stay single for a year. Hell, I doubt he stayed single for a month.
Shit. Wait.
I jerk with a sudden realization, bumping my tea and spilling it on the table. What if he was never single at all? Was I the other woman? Some random chick he got pregnant while cheating on his girlfriend? His wife? Suddenly, my stomach is roiling too much for tea.
“Hey,” Charlie says, pulling a mug out of the cupboard. She grabs a tea bag from the canister on the counter and uses the remaining water from the kettle to fix her own cup. She hands me a few paper towels to clean up my mess. “You’re home early. How did it go? Do we need to expand our search to include mall Santas?” She chuckles. “I’m pretty short. Put me in a hoodie and a baseball cap and I’m sure I could pass for a kid. I don’t mind pushing little brats out of the way to get us to the front of every line.”
I hiccup a laugh. “No. I won’t need you to assault any children.” I look away and take a deep breath. “I found him.”
Charlie’s mouth works noiselessly as she drops heavily into the chair next to me. “Seriously?”
I lean back. “Yeah.”
“So…now what?”
I chuckle dryly. “Well, considering he had no idea who I was? I guess we wait and see if he contacts me after he reads the letter I gave him.” If his girlfriend had held off for five minutes, I think he might have figured it out. It looked like recognition was dawning on him, anyway.
“He didn’t recognize you?” She looks me up and down. “That tracks, actually. Have you seen yourself? You’ve let your hair go back to its natural red and you’re covered in freckles. When you were with Webster, you always hid the two most recognizable parts of yourself. Lincoln’s father met you when you had brown hair and a face full of makeup. To him, you were a beautiful brunette with porcelain skin. Not to mention you were wearing a wedding dress. And didn’t you say he’d already been drinking before you got to the bar? I’m not that surprised that he didn’t recognize you.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
She raises her eyebrows and gestures for me to continue. “Well, what did he say when you told him? Did he seem angry or upset? Do we need to sic Gavin on him?”
I snort a laugh and choke on a sob simultaneously. “I didn’t get the chance to tell him.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Why the hell not?”
I drop my head to the table and groan. “His super-hot girlfriend showed up, and I panicked. I shoved the letter at him and ran.”
“No! A girlfriend? What the hell?”
I lift my head and drop it against the table, the cold wood soothing against my skin, though the impact fails to knock any sense into me. Ever since I saw him, the previously fuzzy memories of our night together keep flashing through my brain with his face front and center, highlighting the hope I didn’t want to acknowledge before tonight.
I never wanted a fairy tale ending, but I couldn’t suppress a glimmer of hope that something would come of seeing Lincoln’s father again. At the very least, I thought I would learn his name during our first reunion, even if I didn’t get to broach the subject of him being Lincoln’s dad. I certainly never thought he would look at me with confusion, not even remembering who I am. It comes as a bit of a blow to realize how forgettable I was.
Shit. I still don’t know his name.
I’m not any farther ahead. I still know nothing about him.
“It doesn’t matter if he has a girlfriend, Charlie.” I had no business hoping for anything, anyway. “I found him, and that’s what matters.”
“How long are you going to wait for him to call before you call him? We only have the house for a couple more months.”
My laugh is brittle as I shrug. “It’s in his hands now, Charlie. There’s nothing more I can do.”
“Well…shit,” she says before standing abruptly, pushing her chair halfway across the room. “I think this calls for cookies. Time to bake something. I found a recipe for bacon chocolate chip cookies. I have a good feeling about it.”
I sigh. It’s been a long night, and it looks like it’s about to get longer.
Charlie’s instinct is to bake when she’s stressed, and if she could ever accomplish it without setting off the smoke detectors, it would be a kind gesture. But she’s a hazard in the kitchen, so now I’ll have to stay up to make sure she doesn’t burn the house down. Or worse, wake up Lincoln with the alarm.
Chapter 4
Feeling Nostalgic
Archer
