Chapter 17
The small, pink fingers wrap around my thumb. I marvel at his tiny strength, my heart overflowing with love.
“Look how hard he’s squeezing!” I squeal, trying to balance my phone in the other hand and get Allie’s attention.
“God, Sera, I think you have more videos of our kid than we do,” Allie replies drily, coming over to observe baby Brian’s tiny fist gripping me tightly. “He’s only four weeks old. Too much radiation isn’t good for him.”
I scoff at her, even though I know she’s just teasing. “Oh, please, it’s a cellphone,” I reply. “I’m not taking him on a walk through Chernobyl.”
Brian squeals, drawing my attention back to him, and I can’t help but make silly faces until I think he’s smiling. At this age it’s so hard to tell. But I soak up every moment of it.
“So this is pretty much how I spend my week,” Allie laughs. “How was yours?”
I glance up at her. “I saw Alessandro,” I admit. “We had lunch.”
Allie’s eyebrows shoot up. “Well, that’s something. It’s been a few months, hasn’t it? How’s he doing?” she asks curiously.
I shrug. “Better,” I respond. “Since he’s taken Buone Case back over, he’s got them on track again. He’s back in his own place now too.”
“He didn’t ask you out again, did he?” she asks.
I huff a small laugh. “No. I think he’s gotten the message,” I reply.
“Who’s gotten what message?” David asks, entering the room. He immediately starts cooing over Brian, though, and I doubt he’d hear a response even if I gave it. I slide back onto the couch behind me and let him pick up the baby and take him to be changed. Being an aunt comes with the privilege of non-mandatory diaper changing services. And, you know, getting to sleep through the night.
“I swear, he’s got the attention span of a gnat these days,” Allie jokes as David leaves the room.
“Can you blame him? I dare anyone not to be distracted by that kid’s cuteness,” I reply.
Allie rolls her eyes. “So you and Alessandro, you’re really just going to be friends?” Allie presses.
“Yes, Allie, I’m really not looking for anything right now, and our differences were way too fundamental,” I reiterate for the thousandth time.
“If you say so,” she replies, shrugging. “But I think it’s about time you got back in the dating pool, one way or another.”
I press my lips together impatiently. “Well, I’m going out with Em tonight, so maybe someone will manage to woo me before I get stinking drunk,” I reply wryly.
Allie shoots me a dirty look. “Maybe ease off the booze and someone will want to woo you,” she shoots back.
“Ah, see, there’s the crux,” I reply. “Maybe I don’t want to be wooed. I’m doing fine on my own, thank you very much.”
“You’re not on your own. Your twenty-four-year-old brother lives with you,” she reminds me. “Which, by the way, is also a huge deterrent for any would-be-wooers.”
“Is ‘wooers’ a word?” I ask contemplatively. “It doesn’t sound like a word.”
“Deflecting,” Allie says accusingly.
“Oh, look, a shiny object,” I say, rising from the couch and grabbing my keys. “Gotta go, Allie!”
“Cute, real cute, Sera,” she calls after me. I wave dismissively over my shoulder.
“See you for dinner tomorrow,” I reply, then call down the hall. “Bye, David!”
“Bye, Sera!” he calls back. And I leave before Allie can continue telling me how to run my love life. Or lack thereof.
I’m two drinks in, happily buzzed, and well on my way to stinking drunk when Emily finally finds me at the bar on Capitol Hill.
“Hey, stranger,” she greets me, wrapping me in a hug. “What’s it been, like a month?” She slides onto the stool next to me.
“I’ve had a cute baby to fawn over, so sue me,” I reply with a smile. “Wanna see pictures?”
Emily laughs. “Maybe later,” she replies. “How are you?”
I shrug. “Okay. Work’s great. Hunter is really coming along. The other designers say he’s got real talent,” I reply.
“Hmm,” she replies noncommittally. By the look on her face I know she’s in Allie’s boat, wishing my summary included a man.
“How about you? How are things going with John?” I hazard, trying to remember the name of the guy she was dating last time we met up.
“Jack and I are actually still seeing each other,” she corrects. “Still pretty casually. It’s only been a couple months.”
“Sometimes that’s all it takes,” I respond, memories unwillingly pushing their way through my defenses. I shove them back, and we continue to make idle conversation for a while.
After another hour and a few more drinks, though, I can’t stem the tide any longer.
“So how is your brother doing?” I ask, doing my best impression of barely interested. But Emily isn’t fooled.
“He remembered a few more things,” she admits. “But nothing major.” I shrug, unsurprised. The few updates Emily has shared have all been the same. He remembered some paperwork or other that he’d stashed during the missing memory months. Or a movie he’d seen. Or the name of a client he’d spoken to back then but not since. But never anything about me. About us.
“Well, sounds like he’s doing pretty all right then,” I grouse. I hate talking about this, which is why I usually avoid it. I must be in a more masochistic mood than usual.
“While we’re on the subject, there’s something else I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Emily admits nervously. Something about her tone makes me down the rest of my margarita in one go.
“Go ahead,” I reply warily. Emily gives me a brief disapproving look. I suppress my annoyance, knowing deep down all the concerns about my drinking are not wrong, but too ruined to care.
“Bryce and Madison are getting married,” she says quickly, flinching as the words tumble out. My throat goes dry and my stomach churns. I fight a short battle with the urge but realize quickly that I’m going to lose.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” I admit, bolting for the bathroom. I barely make it into the tiny two-stall bathroom, tumbling into the closest stall as the contents of my stomach reappear. I hear Emily come in behind me, and I feel the cool touch of her fingers against my neck as she gathers my hair in her hands, holding it back as I retch into the toilet.
When I’m finally spent, I sink onto the dirty, disgusting floor next to the toilet, a testament to the painful oblivion her revelation has caused. Emily crouches next to me, stroking my hair gently as I sob.
“I’m so sorry, Sera,” she says soothingly. “I knew it would be hard, but I thought you’d moved past it. You barely ever ask about him anymore.”
I shake my head violently. “I don’t want to talk about it,” I reply.
“Please, Sera,” Emily begs. “I had to tell you. I need your help. He won’t listen to me and you know Madison. She doesn’t care for him, at least not more than share cares about his money, his reputation. She’s manipulated him into this. We can’t let …”
“Stop!” I screech, throwing my hands over my ears. “I’m sorry I asked. Because I don’t really want to know. Any of it.” I rise from the floor, swaying dangerously.
“Okay,” she relents. “I’m sorry. Let’s just get you to my place so you can sleep it off, okay?”
And I want to protest, but my world is still spinning, in so many ways. So I grunt my assent and let her lead me out of the bar, into a cab, and ultimately onto her couch. Where I promptly surrender to blissful nothingness.
I wake the next morning to the smell of coffee. Cotton-mouthed and heavy-headed, I rise gingerly, wincing against the pain.
Emily drops into the armchair next to me, handing me a large cup of dark coffee. I guzzle it gratefully.
“I’m sorry about last night,” she apologizes softly. I look up at her. Her hair is wet, and she’s wearing a matched pink sweat suit. And she looks as contrite as I’ve ever seen her.
“No, I’m sorry,” I admit. “I reacted poorly.”
Emily laughs. “That’s putting it mildly,” she replies.
“When?” I ask softly. Emily is silent for a moment, and I know she’s debating whether or not to answer.
“October twelfth,” she finally replies. My head snaps up in disbelief. That’s barely more than two months away. But it’s the exact date that horrifies me.
“They’re getting married on the anniversary of the fucking attack that did this to him?” I ask incredulously. “On my birthday, for fuck’s sake?!”
Emily cringes and nods. “I pointed both of those things out in front of Madison. They picked it because of the attack. Supposedly to celebrate that he survived it, to turn it to something good,” Emily spits. “But when she learned it was also your birthday …” Emily’s hands curl into fists. “The bitch looked smug, Sera. I wanted to punch her.”
I have no words, I simply shake my head, looking grimly into the dregs of my coffee cup. Eventually, I say the only thing I can. “He’s his own man, Em. If he wants to marry her, what could I possibly say to change his mind?” I look down at my crumpled, smelly dress. “I need a shower.”
Emily gestures to the bathroom. “Have at,” she replies morosely. “I’ll dig out some clothes for you.”
“Just as long as it’s not a matching purple sweat suit,” I tease her. She sticks her tongue out at me as I head to the bathroom.
The heat of the shower goes a long way to unraveling my tightly coiled nerves. And as I dry off, I spot the powder blue sweat suit, matching panties and all, that Emily left on the counter. I burst out laughing.
“Emily, you’re a nutcase!” I call out. I hear her laughter floating under the door from the kitchen. I dress quickly, throwing my dirty clothes into a plastic bag, and emerge back into the living room.
But Emily’s not alone. Bryce sits on the couch next to her. The sight of him is like a fist to the gut. He looks beyond handsome, bulkier than when I last saw him, his chestnut hair longer and curling around his collar just as it did when we first met. When his eyes meet mine, it roots me to the spot. My eyes flick to Emily, trying to convey my terror. But Emily looks so guilty that I know she planned this. And that she’s not about to rescue me. She disappears back into the kitchen, leaving us alone.
“Hey, Sera,” Bryce greets me softly.
“Hello,” I reply quietly. I drop the plastic bag next to the couch and slink into the kitchen. I get right up next to Emily and poke her, hard.
“Sorry,” she whispers. “I told you, I’m desperate.”
I shake my head violently. “You can’t do this to me, Em,” I whisper back.
“Please,” she begs. “Just try?” She looks so miserable, despite the angry pit in my stomach I shrug noncommittally, giving the tiniest of nods. She wraps her arms around me briefly before turning back to the food she’s preparing.
I return to the living room, taking a seat on the small couch with Bryce, but as far into the corner as I can, so there’s at least some distance between us.
“I made waffles,” Emily announces, hopping up from her chair and waltzing into the kitchen.
Bryce gives me a side glance. “You didn’t know I’d be here, did you?” he asks shrewdly.
I shake my head mutely, a thousand emotions swirling inside me. I’m not sure I could hold a waffle down right now if I wanted to, so when Emily returns with a plate, I surreptitiously slide it onto the coffee table, untouched.
“I’m going to get more coffee,” I announce, already unable to keep still in his presence. “Anybody want?”
Emily shakes her head, but Bryce puts down his plate and beats me to it. “I’ve got it,” he replies, plucking my mug from my hands and striding easily into the kitchen. He returns shortly, handing me back a full mug. “Cream, no sugar.”
I stare up at him, open mouthed. Emily looks at me questioningly.
“You … you remember how I take my coffee,” I stutter. Emily’s mouth drops open. Bryce looks unnerved.
“I guess I do,” he replies. “I didn’t even think about it, I just did it.” He shrugs and returns to his waffle, but the atmosphere in the room has changed to tense silence. My eyes drift to the balcony, remembering the last time the three of us where here together and things were tense.
I put my nearly full coffee mug down, unable to handle it any longer. “I should go,” I say quickly, rising.
“Oh no, please, don’t,” Emily begs.
“Really, I have a lot to do today,” I lie. “But thanks for breakfast.”
“I hope you’re not going on my account,” Bryce pipes up. “I didn’t mean to —”
“No, really, it’s okay,” I interrupt. “But hey, congratulations. Um. On your engagement.” Bryce blushes and I pause awkwardly. “Yeah, so, see ya.”
I grab my purse and the plastic bag and bolt out the door as fast as I can walk. Running seems too obvious.
But before I can make it to the stairs outside her door, I sense someone behind me even before the hand grabs my wrist. Large and warm, I know who it is before I even turn around.
“Hey,” Bryce calls, pulling me to a stop. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know Emily hadn’t told you I was coming over.”
I pull my arm out of his grasp, wrapping my arms around myself self-consciously. “It’s okay,” I assure him. “I just really need to go.”
“Sera, if you knew me as well as you once said you did, you know I can tell when people are lying,” he teases.
I smile vaguely, not taking the bait. “Was it your idea or hers?” I ask curiously. “Breakfast, I mean.”
“Em’s,” he admits. “She said you wanted to talk to me.” And before I can stop it, a sarcastic laugh slips through my lips. “Guess not, then.”
“She wanted me to talk to you,” I clarify. “To talk you out of marrying Madison, more specifically.” Realization dawns on Bryce’s face.
“Ah,” he says. “Yeah. She’s, uh, not too happy about that.” He scratches the back of his head self-consciously.
I shrug. “Well, you’re a big boy,” I reply. “I’m sure you can handle her. And I should really get home.”
“Yeah, of course, sorry. Good seeing you, Sera,” he replies. His eyes search mine for a moment, and I’m almost distracted out of leaving. He too, looks lost in thought.
“Bye, Bryce,” I say before I totally lose my nerve. I turn toward the stairs.
“Bye, gorgeous,” he calls after me. I stop short, whirling around to face him. He looks as shocked as I am. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I … that was totally …” He presses a hand to his head.
“Are you okay?” I ask, taking a tentative step toward him.
He rubs at his temple for a moment. “I’m fine,” he replies. “I just don’t know why I said that.”
“You used to call me that,” I reply simply.
He looks down at me, clearly still struggling. “Then it was probably just a reflex,” he replies, clearly embarrassed. I blush and look away, reading between the lines — he doesn’t want me to think it meant anything and get my hopes up.
“Yeah, probably,” I agree. “No worries. I’ll, um … bye.” I wave nervously and disappear down the stairs as fast as I can, my heart hammering in my chest.
When I tell Allie the story at dinner, she’s understandably shocked.
“Holy shit, Sera,” she gasps. “His memories are coming back.”
I shake my head vehemently. “After all this time? No. Nuh-uh. It’s exactly as he said. A reflex. It’s been ten months, Al, he’s not going to start remembering now,” I insist.
Allie looks at me skeptically. “Who are you trying to convince, sister, me or you?” she asks, smirking. I glare at her.
“I’m not putting myself through this,” I insist. “I’m steering clear of all things Hoyt until after Bryce is married. I can’t do this, Allie.”
“Geez, okay, okay,” Allie mutters. She gives me a sad look. “I guess I get it.”
“Thank you,” I reply. But she’s not completely wrong. I repeat the story to myself over and over again. Because eventually I will believe it.