“Mom,” Hailey said, her hand on her mother’s shoulder.
Blythe opened her eyes, getting her bearings. “Oh my gosh. I must have fallen asleep. What time is it?”
“Twelve thirty. Are you all right?”
“Yes, yes. I just didn’t have a very good night’s sleep, so I decided to lie down for a bit. I didn’t mean to sleep so long.” She ran her fingers through her hair as she rose from the sofa and hugged her daughter. “So, tell me your news. Sit.”
“Well, I was with Barbie yesterday, and she’s broken off her engagement to Nathan.”
“Oh my, I’m sorry to hear that,” Blythe said, not understanding why Hailey had come over to tell her this. “What happened?”
“It was a mutual decision, not some big terrible fight. I guess they were both questioning if they were ready to make such a big commitment.”
“That’s very sensible. If they have any doubts, they’ve made the right decision.”
“I agree. But here’s the thing, Mom. They had the club booked for January. That’s four months away. And now that date is open.” Hailey was grinning.
“And?” Blythe had a sinking feeling in her stomach.
“We can grab that date for Gabriel and Addy. Then they wouldn’t have to wait a whole year.”
“I don’t know, Hailey. We already have the plans in place, and Gabriel and Addison are fine with them.”
“No. I told Gabriel about the club opening, and he jumped at it. He’d love to move up the date and have a winter wedding.”
Blythe’s body grew rigid. “And you told Addison too?”
“Not yet, but I’m sure Gabriel has.”
When Blythe remained silent, Hailey continued. “Why should they wait, Mom? Just think. You and Dad could have a grandchild by next year.” She winked.
How was she going to get out of this one? Blythe wondered. She desperately needed that detective to come up with something, anything, to reassure her or give her ammunition. And she hoped it would be soon.
??20??
Addison
“I need your advice,” I tell Gigi. We’re sitting together on her porch, a pitcher of iced tea on the table between us.
It’s been a week since Gabriel and I got back from Florida, and I can’t count the number of times I’ve looked at that damn card. I know the man’s phone number and email address by heart, and his name, Frank Margolis, tumbles around in my head day and night. Every time I pick up the phone to call him, I lose my nerve and hang up, telling myself he must be wrong, that he’s mistaken me for someone else. But I know I’m kidding myself. Could he really have known me from a Fort Lauderdale bar or strip club? It just doesn’t feel possible. First of all, I’ve learned I’m a terrible dancer—stiff and a little awkward on the dance floor—which Gabriel loves to kid me about. And I hate being the center of attention. I can’t imagine dancing on a stage with a bunch of strangers staring at me.
But I’ve done some research on whether I could have been such a different person before amnesia, and the answer is not reassuring. The fact is, it’s highly possible that amnesia affects a person’s propensities and natural tendencies. There’s every reason to believe I might not be at all like the old Addison. Or whatever my name was.
I haven’t told Gabriel about it. I can’t yet. I wasn’t going to tell anyone, but the encounter with that horrible man is all I can think about. If I don’t talk about it to someone, I’ll go crazy.
“Now,” Gigi says, “what is it you want to talk about? You’ve seemed a little off since your trip. Did you two have a fight?”
Her question takes me by surprise. Gabriel and I have never had a fight. “No, not at all. It’s something else.” And I tell her, in halting sentences, about the man in the restaurant. “Do you think it’s possible that I might have been a dancer in some sleazy bar in my past life?”
“Just because some old geezer tells you that, it doesn’t mean it’s true. Did you recognize him? Did he look familiar to you?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean anything. I have no memories at all, remember?” I don’t mean to sound sarcastic, but that’s how it comes out.
Gigi gets that don’t-get-smart-with-me look on her face and wags her finger. “You can’t take some idiot’s comments as truth. I’m not saying he’s lying, but you can’t construct a past life for yourself based on what he said.”