“And you’re entertaining it. Why?”
“Because I don’t remember who I am!” I shout.
He stops pacing and stares at me. His shoulders drop as I continue.
“I have no memory! All I know is what everyone else is telling me. He’s the only person who has been trying to let me figure things out on my own instead of insisting I’m someone I don’t remember being.”
“London was driving the car. You were pulled from the driver’s side. Just look at your injuries. They’re mostly all on the left side of your body which is to be expected of the driver being hit from that side,” he says as he waves his arm.
“And what if Lennon was driving instead? Were you with us?” I ask, calling him out.
He hangs his head. “No, it was just the two of you. And a hit-and-run driver who has yet to be identified.”
“Okay, so it could be possible. What about the clothes we were wearing?”
“You were essentially dressed the same. Both in jeans and T-shirts with one of Lennon’s racing jackets.”
“Why would I have been driving her car? I know the car was hers because London’s is in the lot out there,” I say pointing toward the parking lot.
“She was excited about her new car, and she let you drive. Plus, she was going to teach you to drive a manual transmission so you could do some drag racing with her.”
“London didn’t know how to drive a stick?” I ask. This information seems important, but I don’t know why.
He shakes his head.
“Did she want to learn?” I ask.
“You mean didyouwant to learn. And yes, you did. In return, you were teaching Lennon how to cook.”
“I was?” I ask, glancing past him to the kitchen. I noticed earlier it’s a very large, nice kitchen but didn’t think anything of it.
“You’re a chef, London. You always spent time in the kitchen with your mom, and Lennon was around cars with your dad. You have your own cooking channel and blog. You’re finishing your second recipe book,” he says.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?”
He drops to his knees in front of me on the couch, like he’s begging me to understand.
He takes my face gently in his hands and searches my eyes. “Because Dash isn’t the only one who’s trying to let your memory come back to you without being swayed or influenced.”
I move to pull away, but he gently tugs me closer as if he’s trying and failing to rein in his emotions.
“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Your happiness and safety are all that matter to me. I want your memories to return exactly how they’re meant to. It’s important for you to know you are in control of your own life and what happens in it. But I hope and pray you still choose to live a life with me once the dust settles from the storm we’ve found ourselves in,” he says as his eyes reveal nothing but hopeful love.
It’s my turn to cup his cheek in my hand. How did I get so lucky as to have this man not only on my side, but to have his love too?
“I don’t know if I deserve someone as special as you, Hendrix. How can you be so sure everything will work out? How can you have so much faith in me to figure this out?” I ask gently.
Instead of answering, he leans in closer as his breaths become slightly more rapid.
“Can I kiss you, London?” he asks cautiously as if I might say no.
I stare at him and ponder his request briefly and then nod.
His lips meet mine, gently at first. But then his tongue slides against my lips, begging for entry. When I open to him, the kiss is all consuming. I’m not sure if it’s because it’s been so long or not.
When we pull back to catch a breath, we stare into each other’s eyes. Yes, the kiss was full of heat and passion, but I didn’t feel it in my heart. The physical chemistry was top notch, but the heart and the body need to be on the same page for me. I might not know much about myself, but I know that.
I’m afraid I’ll have to tell him to stop when he leans in again, but to my surprise he kisses my forehead and stands back up.
