And now we get to spend the rest of our lives together like a real couple. I can make up for all the time he had to spend taking care of me and dealing with my business.
“How about candles?” I suggest.
Graham laughs. “Wow, you are in a really good mood.”
But he indulges me by getting out a pair of candlesticks from one of the drawers. We light them and then dim the overhead chandelier in the dining area. I love the atmosphere and the way Graham’s handsome face looks flickering in the candlelight.
“So what do you think of the spaghetti?” I ask him.
He twirls a few strands around on his fork and pops them in his mouth. “Delicious. Like in a restaurant.”
I giggle. It’s a sound I haven’t made in a long time. “I was thinking maybe I could take some cooking lessons.”
“Sounds good. I approve.”
I take a gulp of my water, then stuff more spaghetti in my mouth. I don’t know what it is, but this is the best meal I’ve had in years. Graham looks across the table at me, an unreadable expression on his face.
“Maybe we should do some traveling now?” I say.
He twirls more spaghetti around his fork. “It would be hard to get away. You know, My Home Spa is very busy right now.”
“Right… You’re probably overwhelmed…” I take another gulp of water. “I should probably think about coming back.”
Graham puts down his fork, which is packed with spaghetti. “What? Why would you do that?”
I snort. “Well, it’s my company.”
“Yeah, but…” The candles flicker. “You still have a lot of memory problems. I don’t think it’s a great idea for you to come back. You don’t want to screw up the business.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Excuse me, but it’s my business.” I clear my throat and take another sip of water. “Anyway, I’m not saying I’ll come back today or tomorrow. But maybe in a month or two…”
“Maybe…”
I peer at Graham over the rim of my water glass. I don’t know why he’s acting so weird about this. Why can’t I come back to work? I’m capable of it. Look what a great job I did on the spaghetti.
Okay, running a big business is a little different from cooking a plate of spaghetti. And to be fair, the spaghetti is a little more al dente than I would’ve liked. But still.
“Anyway,” I say, “we can talk about when I’m coming back some other time. Let’s just enjoy the meal.”
“Right. Sure.”
Except I notice Graham isn’t eating his spaghetti anymore. He’s just watching me across the table. It’s making me uneasy. But I keep eating. If he doesn’t want his food, that’s his loss. He can go to bed hungry if he wants.
By the time I finish my food, Graham has barely touched his. I glance pointedly at his plate. “Are you done?”
“Looks like it,” he mutters.
I get up out of my seat and start gathering up the plates to bring to the kitchen. But before I can do it, a wave of dizziness washes over me. It’s so bad that I sink back down into my seat.
“Tess?” Graham raises his eyebrows. “Are you okay?”
I wait for the dizziness to pass. What was that? I haven’t felt like that all day. And it’s not like the tumor is getting worse. Dr. Wang just told me I was getting better. So why do I feel so awful?
I look down at the glass in front of me that held my water. At the bottom of the glass, there are little remnants of white powder.
“Graham,” I breathe. “What did you do?”
He shakes his head slowly. “Things were perfect the way they were. You’ve been the perfect wife since you’ve been sick. You stay home all day and you let me manage the business. I don’t know why you want to ruin all that.”
“Because I’m better.” My tongue feels heavy and my words are slurring. “I’m not sick anymore. I want things to go back to the way they were before my diagnosis.”
Graham grits his teeth. “You mean when you told me you were going to leave me? That you were cutting me out of the business?”
I flinch. “I… I don’t remember that.”
“Of course you don’t.” Graham’s eyes appear to glow in the light of the candle. “And you never will.”
The dizziness is being replaced by fatigue. I feel so tired I can barely keep my eyes open. But I have to. I can’t lose consciousness. Because if I go to sleep, that’s it. Graham will inject me with that medication the psychiatrist gave him, and I’ll forget everything that happened today. Yes, I won’t remember my cancer diagnosis. But I also won’t remember I’m in remission.