“This is for your own safety, Tess.” Camila’s voice has softened. “I know it seems weird, but you and I are friends. We’re going to have a good day together. I promise you.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Just remember that the people around you care about you very much and only want you to be safe. Do what they say.
Those were my own words. In my own handwriting. My wisdom to myself.
“Okay,” I say softly.
“That’s my girl.” Graham grins at me. God, he is very handsome. I can see how I fell for him, even if he’s not my type. Especially after he saved my life. “Anyway, I’ve got to get to work. But I’m going to leave you in Camila’s capable hands.” He winks at me. “So be good—both of you.”
He stands there for a moment as he pushes his glasses up his nose. He’s about to leave for work, and I realize this is the sort of moment when a normal wife who had not forgotten most of the last decade of her life might give her husband a peck on the lips. But I don’t know this guy. Am I really supposed to kiss him?
It feels like it should all come back to me. In the same way I knew exactly what to do with my phone, even though I didn’t remember having owned one. Or the way I looked down at Ziggy and instantly loved him. But when I look at Graham, he still seems like a stranger.
I can see in his eyes that he knows what I’m thinking. “It’s okay,” he mumbles. “I’ll see you later, Tess. All right?”
I bite down on my lower lip. “Okay.”
He offers me a tiny smile. He’s disappointed, but he’s trying not to let on. I might not know this guy, but he’s been so nice to me today. He comforted me when I was freaking out in the bathroom. He made me breakfast, even though it was very slightly charred black. He’s been patiently answering my stupid questions all morning. Maybe I still can’t remember him, but I can tell my letter was correct: he’s a good man.
So as he turns to leave the kitchen, I reach out and grab his arm. He looks back at me, blinking in surprise. And before I can overthink it, I lean forward and brush my lips against his.
I meant it just to be a quick peck, but Graham holds me there for an extra beat. When our lips part, that tiny smile is broadening across his lips. He looks the happiest I’ve seen him since I woke him up by screaming my ex-boyfriend’s name.
“Have a good day at work,” I murmur. “And thanks for taking care of my company.”
He envelopes my hand in his larger one and gives it a squeeze. “Anything for you, Tess.”
It isn’t until Graham has left the kitchen that I realize Camila has been glaring at us the whole time.
Chapter 6
Camila…
I’m not sure what to make of that woman. I’ve only known her for about five minutes—at least, five minutes that I remember. She claims we’re friends. I find it a little hard to believe.
“What?” I finally say, because she is still staring at me. “What is it?”
“You don’t usually kiss him.” She lifts her shoulders. “I was just surprised. That’s all.”
“Well, he is my husband, isn’t he? Why can’t I kiss him?” I’m trying not to sound belligerent, but it’s hard. Everyone is treating me like I’m a child.
She peers at me with her big, doe-like eyes. She’s not wearing any mascara, but she has unfairly beautiful eyelashes. “Do you remember him?”
“I… a little.”
It’s a lie. I still can’t remember a damn thing about Graham, aside from what I learned this morning. But I married him, so I must have loved him. And he’s been amazing to me this morning—even after I spit out the pomegranate juice he went to so much trouble to buy for me.
Camila flashes me a skeptical look. It irritates me that this woman knows more about my life than I do. I wish I could ask her some of the questions I was afraid to ask Graham. But there’s no way. I can’t have a heart-to-heart with a girl I just met. I’ll have to give Lucy a call later.
Camila looks down at my plate, where the eggs Graham made me are nearly untouched. In addition to being dry, they lacked any sort of seasoning. She smirks. “Your husband is not a good cook.”
“No,” I admit. “He isn’t.”
“I’ll make you some breakfast,” she says. “What would you like? More eggs?”
The thought of a big heaping plate of scrambled eggs makes my stomach turn. “Just some toast would be fine. Thank you.”