Page 104 of The Image of You

“Thank you.”

She hesitated. “I’m sorry, have we met before the other night? My mind is a little fuzzy these days.” She leaned closer, her voice lowering. “I hit my head, and sometimes I forget things.”

She was near enough I could smell her familiar floral scent. I gave her a gentle smile. “I’m sorry to hear that. Yes, we’ve met—several times.”

She frowned, chewing on her lip again. “I don’t remember, I’m sorry.”

I wanted to yank her into my arms and tell her exactly how close we were. But I forced myself to remain calm. “That’s all right. We can get to know each other again, like old friends, catching up.”

“Is that what we were—friends?”

“Yes, we were friends. Good friends, I think.”

Emma came back. “I’m sorry, Alex. I have something I have to take care of. Do you need me to walk with you back to the apartment?”

Before she could answer, I interrupted. “Actually, I was going to invite you for coffee. But maybe Alex and I can still go—get reacquainted. I’ll walk her home afterward.” I looked over at Ally. “If that’s okay with you?”

I breathed out a sigh of relief when she nodded. “Yes, that’s fine, Adam. Emma, call me later?”

Emma bent down and hugged Ally. “For sure.” She shot me a glance. “Nice to see you, Adam. I hope we meet again soon.”

I winked. “Count on it.”

Emma headed out of the park, and we walked to the coffee shop in silence. Ally sat at a table while I grabbed our coffees. I slid a latte to her since she always loved one when we went out. She took a sip and frowned.

“You don’t like it?”

“It’s perfect. How did you know I liked lattes?”

“I know you.”

She shut her eyes and rubbed her temples.

“Do you have a headache, Ally?” I asked, her name slipping out before I could stop it.

“No.” She shook her head. “Why do you call me that?”

I took a sip of my coffee. I wanted to hold her and tell her I called her that because she was mine. Because I gave her that name so she’d know she was special to me. Instead, I shrugged. “I always have.”

“No one else does.”

“No, I gave you that name.” I met her gaze directly. “I also called you Nightingale.”

Her eyes widened, and a small spark of something passed through them. “Because I used to be a nurse?”

“Yes.” Now it was my turn to frown. “Used to be?”

She shook her head, twisting the engagement ring around on her finger. I studied it briefly, hating it, not only because it wasn’t my ring, but because it didn’t suit her at all. Large and showy, it was far too big for her delicate finger. It was a statement, not a token of love.

“My fiancé is a doctor. I used to work here at Toronto General.”

I tamped down my anger at her use of the word fiancé. “I know. That’s where I met you.”

Her gaze flew around the shop, her nervousness evident. “Do you, ah, know Bradley? Is that how we met?”

“Not as well as I know you, and no. I had an accident, and you were my nurse. We became friends after that.”

Her voice grew upset. “I’m sorry. I can’t remember that.”