by Ryan, Lexi
I have to swallow the thickness in my throat. “I’m here now.”
After dragging the chair another foot closer to the bed, he sits and takes my hand. He toys with the ring on my finger, and a smile plays at his lips. “I like seeing this on you.”
“You gave me this ring?” I whisper.
He lifts my hand and presses a gentle kiss to my knuckle right above the diamond. “I did.”
“Why? I mean…how? I mean…” I bite my lip. My stomach is a mess of nerves.
He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear and gives a sad smile, his fingers working tiny circles on my palm. “How? I’m just a lucky bastard, I guess.”
“Hmm.” I rest my head back on my pillow and relax. “Sounds like it. Lucky guy is engaged to a girl who has a beat-up face and can’t even remember dating him.”
“Surely I can work this to my advantage.” His eyes crinkle in the corners with his smile. He is so damn handsome. “Let me remind you all the ways I was the world’s greatest boyfriend. The flowers, the foot massages, the…what else?”
“Coach bags,” I supply. “The many Coach bags you bought me during our courtship.”
“I’ll admit, I never bought you a Coach bag.”
I scoff. “And I accepted your proposal?”
“I love you, Hanna,” he says softly, and more surprising than the words is this feeling in my chest. As if something there knows what he says is true, even if my mind can’t remember how we got here.
“I…” What am I supposed to say? To echo the words back to him would ring empty. We both know I don’t remember being with him, let alone falling in love. I’m sure I love you too? That option seems like a kick in the pants.
“It’s okay,” he murmurs, kissing my hand again. “I know you don’t remember. I’ll win your heart all over again if I have to.”
I OPEN my eyes to see my sister Maggie’s head bobbing to music I can faintly make out from her headphones, her gaze focused on the print-filled pages of a thick textbook.
“So what else do I not remember?” I ask groggily. “Are you having Asher’s babies yet?”
She lifts her head and grins at me as she pulls off her headphones. “Hey, how’d you sleep?”
“Like a baby. In the literal awake-every-two-hours sense of the cliché.” Hospitals have to be the worst places to get rest. Every time I would fall asleep, the nurse would come in to check something or change an IV bag. I tap Maggie’s book. “What are you studying?”
“I’m doing an independent study in women in art history. Trying to catch up and make up for the year I took off.”
“So that’s a no on the babies?”
“Unless you count Zoe, no. No babies.”
I nod thoughtfully. I remember Zoe. She’s Asher’s daughter who lives in New York. She spent most of the summer here—well, last summer at least. This gap in my memories is so bizarre. Not like forgetting what you did last weekend when you know time passed but just can’t pin down any memories, but like the last year never happened.
I roll carefully to my side, mindful of my bruised ribs. No breaks, the doctor informed me. Just nasty bruises. Lucky me. Between tests and sleeping and being prodded by the nurses, I haven’t gotten many answers to my questions.
“What happened to me, Maggie?”
“We don’t really know.” She closes the book and sets it to the side. “Lizzy found you at the bottom of the stairs behind the bakery. You were unconscious and looked, well”—she winces—“actually a sight better than you do now. Those bruises have gotten colorful.”
“What bakery?”
“Your bakery.” A slow grin lights her face. “You opened a bakery.”
“I did? Mom didn’t flip out?” I’ve always loved baking, much to the dismay of my fat-phobic mother.
She shrugs. “I don’t know, but you wanted to do it and you did. It’s downtown and does a nice little business. And your wedding cakes are gorgeous.”
“My wedding cakes?” I’ve decorated cakes for friends’ birthdays for years and always loved to play with frosting, gum paste, and fondant. I watched wedding cake shows on TV obsessively. But it was just a dream. Nothing I ever believed I’d be able to make a career out of.
She smiles. “We’re all so proud of you.”
“So then I have a bakery and I mysteriously ended up bruised and battered behind it.”
“Our best guess is that you took a pretty good fall down the stairs.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “So you’re saying I didn’t find gracefulness in those months I can’t remember?”
She chuckles. “You’re a hell of a lot more graceful than I am.”
“What else did I miss?”
“You didn’t miss anything,” she says. “You were here for all of it, and that memory’s going to be back in no time. I’m sure of it.”
“Humor me.”
“You and Liz graduated in May.”
I lift my hand and study my ring. “And then there’s me and Max.”
“Yeah. Since, I don’t know, maybe December or so? But the engagement is new. In fact, that’s been a surprise to all of us. Mom came by while you were sleeping last night and she practically bawled when Max confirmed that the ring on your finger was from him and it was the real deal.”
“Mom approves of Max, then?”
“That’s an understatement.”
I frown at my hand then stretch my arm out straight and study it. “I’ve lost weight.” I sit on the edge of the bed and extend my legs out before me one at a time. They’re long. Obviously I haven’t grown in the last year, but they’re so much thinner that they look longer to me. I’ve taken a couple of groggy trips to the bathroom with nurses at my side, but I didn’t pay much attention to my body. I certainly didn’t bother to look in the mirror. Thanks to my litany of aches and pains, I was too afraid to look.
I bring my hand to my stomach and draw in a breath. This isn’t my body. I’ve never been this thin. Not as a teenager, not as a child.
I look to Maggie. “Did this happen before or after Max started dating me?”
“After,” she says carefully.
I start to stand, and she takes my arm. “I’m fine,” I assure her. “I just want to look.”
She ignores my protest and escorts me to the bathroom, where I freeze at the sight of myself in the mirror. These bruises on my face aren’t very pretty. In fact, they almost look worse than they feel—which is saying something. But what really has me staring is the shape of my face. My cheekbones are visible, the line of my jaw more defined.
“I’ll give you a minute,” Maggie says. “I’ll be right on the other side of the door if you need me.”
After the door clicks behind her, I lift my hospital gown and study my body in the mirror. Frowning, I run my hands over my belly. It’s flatter than I ever remember it being, and I can feel muscle definition beneath my stretchmark-wrinkled skin. The bruises at my ribs could get me a job starring in a domestic-violence video. Was this all really from a fall down the stairs?
I’ll never have a model’s body, yet I’m nearly giddy at the sight of myself. My waist is tiny for the first time in my life, my thighs toned, and the breasts I always cursed for making me look even bigger than I was are now nice curves. I’m actually excited to put on clothes and see my new body when I’m dressed like a normal person.
“It all seems too good to be true,” I murmur as I study my reflection.
“Which part?” Maggie pokes her head into the bathroom just as I’m repositioning my gown. “The bruises or the traumatic brain injury?”
“You know what I mean.”
She raises a brow. “You’re the only person I know who could go through what you did and still think life is peachy. The rest of the world could learn a thing or two from you, Han.”
I follow her out of the bathroom. “It’s like a dream, you know. Suddenly, I wake up and, sure, I’m in the hospital and pretty banged up, but I have everything I’ve ever wanted. The busi
ness, the body—”
“You were gorgeous before,” she tells me as I lower onto the edge of the bed. “You’re the only one who couldn’t see it.”
“It’s not just that.”
“Max,” she provides.
“Yeah.” I sigh. “I feel like the universe wants me to see everything, to not take it for granted. The doctor said my memory will probably be back soon, so maybe this is the luckiest thing that’s ever happened to me. How many of us get to step back from our lives and see how perfect they really are?”
“No one’s life is perfect, Hanna.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do know, and it worries me. You’ve got stars in your eyes about your life, and in a couple of days you’re going to start living it again. I just don’t want you to be disappointed if it isn’t everything it seems.”
I slouch into my pillows and take a deep breath in the silence of my hospital room.
Mom hosts brunch every Sunday at her house, and since I’m not expected to be released until tonight, she brought Sunday brunch to me this morning. My sisters were all here—Abby, Maggie, Lizzy, even Krystal, who came home from Florida when she heard about my condition. Asher stopped by. And of course, Max. Max, who hustled everyone out of the room just when I started feeling claustrophobic. Max, who managed to get my mom to change the subject when she didn’t want to talk about anything but the wedding. Max, whom I caught watching me the way Asher watches Maggie, the way Will watches Cally.
A knock sounds on the door, and I expect to see Lizzy, but red curls, not blond, peek into the room.
“Are you okay?” Maggie asks. She steps in and closes the door behind her.
I swing my legs around to the floor and nod. “I’m good.”
“It’s all overwhelming, I bet.”
“Does Mom still have him cornered?”
Maggie grins. “Yeah. I think she’d marry him herself if she could.”
Toting the bag of clothes Max brought me into the bathroom, I crack the door so I can talk to Maggie. I do a double take when I see my reflection. I’ll have to get used to this. I’d guess I’m at least fifty pounds lighter than I remember being. Maybe more. I knew I’d lost weight—I’d seen it for myself. Even so, when Max had first brought me clothes to wear, I couldn’t believe the tiny jeans and tee in the bag would fit me. When I pull them over my hips, they slide on smooth and easy.
“She’s trying to convince him to convert to Catholicism,” Maggie is saying, “and Hanna, you need to tell him you don’t want him to do it because I think, for you, he would.”
I wash my face and brush my long hair into a high ponytail. When I return to the room, Maggie is sitting in a chair, flipping through a magazine.
Warm lips press against my neck, and I jump before realizing who’s touching me. Max wraps his arms around me and pulls my back to his front. “Are you ready to get out of here?”
Leaning into his solid heat, I sigh. “More than ready.”
“I have good timing, then,” Nix says from the doorway.
I smile at her. After two days in the hospital and more tests than I’ve ever taken in my life, I’ve grown to like the woman. I guess this shouldn’t come as a surprise, since I’m told we’re friends.
“I just need to talk to Hanna about a few things and then she’ll be free to go.”
Maggie stands and grabs her purse. “I’ll get out of the way. Call me if you need anything at all.”
“I will. Thanks.”
When she’s gone, the doctor turns to Max. “Can I ask you to leave?”
Even though he releases me, I feel him stiffen. “She’s my fiancée.”
“And she’ll still be your fiancée after you go down to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee.” She gives him a reassuring grin. “Seriously, it’s just those little HIPAA rules and my silly desire to keep my license to practice medicine.”
He relaxes but seems reluctant. He brushes his thumb over my jaw and presses a soft kiss to my forehead. “I’ll be back soon.”
Nix follows him to the door and closes it behind him. When she comes back, she lowers herself into the chair by my bed and gives an awkward smile. “Your discharge planner met with you today and talked to you about resuming your regular activities?”
I nod. “None of that will be a problem. My whole family’s on board with helping until I’m one hundred percent, and Max is just…amazing.”
Nix nods. “How are you feeling about everything?”
“Other than feeling like someone decided to introduce my head to a baseball bat?” I attempt a smile.
“That’s to be expected, unfortunately.” She looks at her clipboard. “I wanted to talk to you about your blood work. There’s nothing too alarming here, but there are some red flags with your electrolyte levels, possibly indicating malnutrition.”
“Well, you’re the first doctor who’s ever accused me of being malnourished.”
“You’ve lost a lot of weight the last few months, and rather quickly too. When you go home, I want you to make sure you’re eating regular, balanced meals.” Her brow wrinkles. “The imbalance isn’t a cause for alarm at this point, but if it got worse, it could lead to kidney failure, so I want to run blood work again in a couple of weeks. I’ve already scheduled a follow-up appointment for you at my office.” She hands me a piece of paper with a time and date.
“Thanks.”
“I can only imagine what it’s like to have everyone around you know more about your life than you do.” She takes a deep breath. “Okay, here comes the awkward part. Are you ready?”
“Um, sure?”
She swallows and looks at her hands. “Normally, I’d call a social worker in to talk to you, but given the extenuating circumstances with your memory and our personal relationship, I wanted to do it myself. I need you to know that there are places you can call if you feel frightened or unsafe in any way. There are resources.”
“Frightened of what? I don’t understand.”
“If there’s someone in your life who’s hurting you…” Nix trails off.
A chill sweeps over my skin until my bare arms are covered in goose bumps. “Who would want to hurt me?”
Nix cocks her head. “I know you don’t remember your time dating Max, but I want you…” She takes another long breath and shifts awkwardly. “I’m sorry I have to ask, Hanna, but even without your memory, you know Max better than I do. Have you ever known him to be violent? Or quick to anger?”
I shake my head. “Not at all. He’s just”—the guy I always wanted—“a really good guy.”
She leans her elbows on her knees and nods. “Okay. I trust your instincts.”
“What?” The implication clicks into place in my head. “You think he did this to me? You’re wrong. Max is as nice as they come.”
She nods again but doesn’t look convinced. “Please don’t be upset. I’m not making any accusations. I want you to know you have resources. If you don’t feel comfortable calling the domestic abuse hotlines, you can always call me or—”
“Nix,” I say. “I promise I’ll contact you personally if I don’t feel completely safe.” She doesn’t look convinced, so I add, “I just…fell down the stairs. I’ve always been clumsy.”
“Hanna,” she says carefully, “I am suspicious that there’s more to these injuries than a fall.”
“What? But you said—”
“Maybe you fell down the stairs and hit your face, your ribs, your hips in the worst conceivable places. It’s possible. Or maybe”—she touches her own cheekbone, pointing to the location of one of my ugliest bruises—“maybe you were beaten and then pushed.”
I’M CONFUSED when we pull up outside a building near the town square. “Where are you taking me?” God, this is awkward. Max Hallowell is driving me home. Max Hallowell is my fiancé. Max Hallowell may or may not be abusive.
No. I don’t believe that. I’ve known Max all my life, and he’s sweet. Tender. He wouldn’t have pushed me down the
stairs. But who? And why?
It’s all so unbelievable that, if it weren’t for these bruises, I’d think this was all some sort of elaborate practical joke.
“You live here now,” he says softly. There’s a little crinkle between his eyes that tells me this is all as weird for him as it is for me. “You moved here in May.”
“Oh.” I moved here. Not we. Is it weird that I don’t live with him? Probably not. Mom still thinks it’s 1950 and disapproves of “premarital cohabitation” as much as she disapproves of premarital sex. Probably more, because at least you can hide premarital sex from the neighbors. “Does Lizzy live with me?”
He shakes his head and brushes a lock of hair behind my ear. “You live here alone.”
That surprises me, but I can’t think about it too long because the feel of Max’s rough fingers on my cheek has my eyes fluttering shut. I wonder if I’ve come to take this for granted. Max touching me. Max looking at me with all that tenderness in his eyes. I can’t wrap my mind around the idea of this being the new normal.
“Come on.” He pinches my earlobe lightly between two fingers. “I’ll walk you up.” He climbs out of the car and rushes around to get my door, offering his hand as I step out.
He doesn’t release me when I climb onto the sidewalk, just twines his fingers through mine. The storefront before us says Coffee, Cakes, & Confections, and the idea of it being mine takes my breath away. I’ve loved the simple chemistry of cakes and cookies and scones since I was a child. The smells comfort me in a way nothing else can. Feeding other people those delicious things? The best.
He nods to the glass double doors. “That’s your bakery. You have an office there to meet with clients and a kitchen in the back where you do prep, but the front is all about coffee and baked goods.”
“Any good?”
“The most amazing things I’ve ever tasted.” He presses a hand to his stomach. “I think I’ve gained ten pounds since you opened it.”
