God, I really miss Harry.
I try the doorknob to the room next to our bedroom. The knob turns easily, revealing a guest bedroom. The bed is neatly made, the navy blue bedspread neatly folded, and the pillow perfectly plumped. I wonder if Graham and I used to entertain overnight guests a lot before my accident.
It occurs to me that Graham and I have been married four years, but we don’t have children. Both of us are already in our late thirties, so it’s unlikely that we were waiting to conceive in the future. I’ve always wanted children, and it surprises me that at this point in my life, I still don’t have any. Did Graham want children? Did he talk me out of it? Or did we try and fail to conceive?
I consider asking him later, but the answer would probably be depressing. Anyway, it’s the least of my problems right now. This situation would be so much more complicated if I had a small child to take care of right now. Or if I woke up six months pregnant. I clutch my abdomen protectively at the thought of it.
I try the doorknob to the next room over. Again, it turns easily in my hand. I push the door open, revealing a room containing a small loveseat, a tall bookcase littered with hard covers and loose papers, and as promised, there’s a mahogany desk in the corner of the room.
I have found Graham’s office.
I approach the desk. Right next to his laptop is a framed photo of the two of us. We’re on vacation, on the beach, looking tanned and happy. It’s… sweet. He wants to be reminded of our relationship while he’s working. The whole thing doesn’t quite make sense. I’m not in love with Graham because I just met the guy this morning, but he genuinely does not seem like an evil person. He seems nice. He’s stepped up and kept my company afloat when I obviously can’t. He’s been taking care of me when he would be justified shutting me away in some sort of nursing home. He even made me breakfast this morning, even though it was horribly burned, and also, I was too scared to eat it.
Is it possible that Graham isn’t drugging me? That somehow I got it all wrong, and I dragged Harry into my delusion?
I look down at the desk drawers. I pull them open one by one. They all open easily and are filled with papers related to my company. Until I get to the last drawer, which is locked.
I rattle the drawer, listening for the sound of pills shaking. I don’t hear anything like that.
I wonder what made me think there was something important in this drawer. Was it just the fact that it’s locked?
I go through the other drawers again, this time looking for a key. I’m sure Graham keeps the key on his key ring, but I bet he’s got a spare. Graham seems like the sort of guy who always has a spare key.
When my phone rings, I nearly jump out of my skin. I fumble to pull it out of my pocket, terrified it’s Graham, and he knows what I’m doing. But it’s not Graham.
It’s Lucy.
Chapter 24
“Lucy!” I squeal into the phone. “Oh, thank God!”
“Tess.” The sound of her familiar voice brings tears to my eyes. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
Am I okay? Is she seriously asking me that? “Well I can’t remember anything that happened before yesterday, so not really…”
Lucy sighs—a long, sad exhalation of breath. “I know. I… I’m so sorry.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “It’s horrible, Lucy. I feel like I’m stuck in a nightmare.”
“Honestly, you’re not usually like this.” She sounds genuinely perplexed. “You used to be a little scared in the morning, but by the afternoon, you always seemed okay. It’s just this last month you seem to freak out every day.”
A month. That’s when Harry said I first contacted him. What happened one month ago that prompted this?
“Did anything happen to you today?” she presses me. “Something that upset you?”
I chew on my lip. I desperately want to tell her everything that happened to me today. About the note I left for myself on my thigh. About meeting Harry at the dog park. Lucy is my best friend, and if I can’t trust her, who can I trust? Apart from her, there are apparently only three other people regularly in my life. And my father hasn’t returned my call.
But Harry warned me. He was emphatic. Don’t tell Lucy.
“Nothing happened today,” I finally say. “It’s just hard to wrap my head around… everything.”
“I know. I don’t know how you do it every day. I don’t think I could. I would, like, have killed myself or something.”