Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 100561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100561 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“I am still Luca,” I tell him. “Just… no backstory. Yet.”
“But, as far as you know, everything else is working?” he asks, eyebrows raised meaningfully.
And I guess this is something we’d talk about without weirdness, too. I have no idea if I’ve ever blushed near him, but I feel the tips of my ears get hot.
“Oh shit!” Crash says, reaching out to slap my shoulder again. “Can’t say I blame you, dude. Em is hot.” Laughing, he leans back into the couch. “Should I recount your past for you?”
“I presume you mean women I’ve dated.” He nods, and I shake my head. “I’m good. Working to remember that one for now.” I hook my thumb behind me toward the kitchen.
“Man. The ways I could fuck around with you.”
“Believe me, I’m aware.”
Honey looks up at me from where she’s sitting on the floor. When I pat the sofa at my side, she climbs carefully onto the couch and rests her head in my lap.
“I wouldn’t, though,” Crash says, reaching out to scratch the back of Honey’s neck. I get the sense that he can be a lot, but there’s a gentleness about him that already has me at ease. I can see why we’ve been friends for so long. I already like him. “I mean, at least not until you’re feeling a bit more like yourself. Then all bets are off.”
“Appreciated.”
“Bet it was wild to find out you’re married to a hot scientist.”
I laugh, nodding. “Definitely.” And then I remember how he reacted realizing Emery was home during the day. “Why was it such a surprise to see her here?”
Crash reaches up, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. “She works a lot. That’s all.”
I try to translate his tone. “Is it a thing?”
“Yeah.” He tilts his head back and forth and winces. “No? I don’t know, man… I don’t really want to—”
Cutting in, I say, “Nah, don’t worry about it. Just trying to figure out the dynamics of everything. We’ve talked a little and I get the sense there were some things we needed to work on. Just wondering, you know, if we were happy?”
Crash pauses, looking out the window for a few beats. “You two can barely keep your hands off each other,” he says. “But I’m guessing you know that.”
I have zero trouble believing him—I have no idea what my type is, but I’d wager it’s Emery to a T—but it still feels like there’s something he isn’t saying. It makes me feel strangely uneasy. “All right, well, that’s good to know.”
“Dude, this is wild,” he says, shaking his head, and then he pauses, setting his hand on my shoulder. “And take a couple weeks. Or whatever you need, okay?”
“Don’t we have a landscaping business to run? I mean, even if I don’t remember things, I’d like to get back to work when I can.”
Crash lifts his chin, gesturing to my leg. “Can you work now?”
I grimace. It hurts, but not nearly as much as it probably should. “Not yet. But hopefully soon?”
He waves this off. “I can handle it for a couple of weeks. Anyway, what if your memories never come back? Wouldn’t you want to figure out if you’re going to stay with her?”
This surprises me into silence because, frankly, neither of these things had occurred to me—that I wouldn’t eventually remember, or that Emery and I wouldn’t stay together. I asked her what she wanted out of all this, but I haven’t really thought about what I want.
I reach up, rubbing my hands over my face in frustration. I have about a million questions, but no context to even begin to form them. I suppose it’s good that Emery and Annie choose this moment to return to the living room.
“Here ye go, sir,” Emery says, handing me my phone with a flourish. “Your past.” To Crash, she says, “We thought it might help if he looked through his photo albums.”
“Oh, yeah, Mr. Organized.” Crash slaps his own thighs as he moves to stand. “Okay, I need to get to the Jamshidi house for a bit.” He remembers himself, and explains, “They’re one of our biggest clients. Huge yard, twice-weekly job. Lots of fussy plants.”
“Is she one of the women who hits on you at work?” Annie asks.
Crash laughs. “No. She’s like a hundred years old. She brings us lemonade and cookies.”
“Clients hit on you?” I ask, frowning.
“Come on, who wouldn’t?” He pushes his chest forward, saluting on his way out the door. Annie rolls her eyes. I don’t know the dynamic between her and Crash, but I swear I see a hint of a smile on her face.
* * *
Annie leaves not long after Crash does, and when Emery comes back to the couch, she looks absolutely wrecked.
“Tired?” I ask.
She squints, thinking. “A little. I’m used to late nights and not getting much sleep, but it’s like last night broke the seal or something and I haven’t quite caught up.”