Matt was trying hard to sort out what to say. I could see his valiant attempt to control his face, the way he held his lips together so he looked mildly pensive but nothing more. The curious rise to his eyebrows—not so high it seemed questioning, but noticeable enough to prove he had thoughts about what I had said yet wasn’t sure how to convey them.
I had, moments earlier, suggested he move back into our bedroom, and our bed.
Once Jenny told me about Daniel being married—and I recovered from the painful shock—and Matt took me to High Park, something shifted inside me when it came to us. It wasn’t that I remembered loving him (I didn’t... Would I ever?), but I understood he felt those things for me, while Daniel did not. The man I thought I had married loved another woman and, in fact, wasn’t in my life in any capacity. I needed to give Matt and my memory a chance, something I couldn’t do if I was stuck in this fabricated world with Daniel. Which was why I kissed him back at the zoo. Pretended we were merely a contented couple out for a Saturday stroll, our greatest worry being where we might brunch afterward.
That kiss and its intensity had wiggled something free inside me. Not a memory exactly, but a strong desire to do more of that because it felt good. Maybe even right. I wondered if a more intimate situation with Matt might jump-start my memory, like live cables attached to a dead battery. Perhaps I was even close to some sort of breakthrough, though I had to remind myself breakthroughs were a bit like winning lottery numbers: exciting to imagine, unlikely to ever happen.
“I...I’m not sure what to say,” Matt finally said. “I mean, yes. Yes. But are you sure? Because you should be sure and you don’t need to do this for—”
I stopped him. “I’m sure.”
He nodded and then dropped his head so I could no longer see his face as he took a deep breath. I was nervous, not knowing what he was thinking or feeling. I understood Matt had a lot more to lose than I did in this scenario, which in some ways made my suggestion unfair. “Sorry,” he said gruffly. Oh, no. He’s crying. He sniffed a couple of times and then cleared his throat, getting himself under control as he raised his head back up.
“Luce, look. Nothing would make me happier than us being back to...sharing a room again. But there’s no rush, okay?” He understood as well as I did I wasn’t proposing us only sleeping in there, a nice wide gap in the bed between us as we did. And so he wasn’t going to treat it lightly, which made me feel even more secure in the decision.
“I’m fine in the guest room for as long as necessary. I have no expectations of you, or of this. Today, at the zoo...it wasn’t about this.” His gaze held mine and in that moment any doubt that this was precisely what I wanted evaporated.
At first I felt buoyed by the realization, and then just plain sad. Matt was incredible and he was mine. He loved me, and I—until I forgot everything that seemed to matter most—loved him right back. What an unfair tragedy to have such an important, perfect thing erased from your mind. “I wouldn’t have suggested it if it wasn’t what I wanted.”
He watched me for a moment longer. “I don’t want you to get mad, but I have to ask.”
“Okay...ask what?”
He took a deep breath. “Did you change your mind because of Daniel? Because he’s married?”
Tell him no. I paused for a beat too long. “Maybe. I’m not sure exactly.”
Matt nodded, probably expecting this answer, though likely wishing for it to have nothing at all to do with Daniel. I’m sure it made him sick to his stomach every time Daniel’s name was mentioned.
“But I know it has more to do with you. And today,” I added. “Is that okay?”
“It’s more than okay,” Matt said. “But I need you to understand something, Lucy. I love you. And like I said, there’s no rush for any of this. I’m not going anywhere.” He stepped closer to me, brushed a stray hair from my forehead, then rested his hands gently on my shoulders. “So if this is about Daniel more than it’s about me, or us, it’s fine. I can wait. And if you’re never...ready...” He held his composure. “Well, I’ll accept that.”
I placed my hands on his hips and leaned against him, closing my eyes. He held me for a moment, settling his chin on the top of my head, and I turned my face so my cheek rested on his chest. This must have been it, I thought, comfortable and secure. Our position.
“Thank you for saying that,” I said. “But I still want to try, okay?”
“Okay,” he murmured, his lips on the crown of my head. “Would it be all right if I...if I kissed you again?” His voice was quiet, unsure despite what I had said. Like we were kids exploring the boundaries of our relationship, trying to see what else might be there.
I leaned slightly away from him so I could look into his face, but kept my arms wrapped around his waist. “Yes.”
He smiled and pressed his lips to mine. I wish I could say this time there was a blinding flash of recognition and I remembered everything. But I didn’t.
However, I did like the feel of him. The way his lips were gentle with mine until I responded, giving him permission to go deeper. And while it was true my mind couldn’t recall my history with Matt, it seemed my body remembered and responded to him. It wasn’t long before we stumbled into our bedroom, barely breaking apart for a breath—what we’d started at the park warming us up for what came next.
The sex was fantastic, if not a bit intense, and though it was the first time I could remember being intimate with Matt, it didn’t feel entirely unfamiliar. Which was odd, yet reassuring. It seemed a part of me hadn’t forgotten what Matt and I had, or how well we had worked together, once.
Yet as I lay naked beside him afterward, trying to hang on to the lingering, warm buzz of what we’d done, I had to fight the instinct I’d betrayed Daniel.