The 7 Lb., 2 Oz. Valentine

by Marie Ferrarella

  “But you’re not like that?” he guessed by her intonation.

  “No, I’m not like that,” she agreed. “I tend to be mercurial. Impulsive.” A smile slid along her lips. “It drove you crazy sometimes.”

  It didn’t make sense to him. “Then why did we stay together?”

  Erin stopped before the bedroom door and turned toward him. That was so like him. To question the logic. There wasn’t any. What there had been, and would be again, were feelings.

  “Because you loved me, Brady. And I loved you.” She looked up into his eyes.

  Brady felt so helpless. “I wish I could say—”

  She placed a finger to his lips, stopping him. She didn’t want to hear him tell her that he didn’t feel anything. Though she understood his confusion, the words would hurt too much.

  “You will,” she vowed with such passion that it took him by surprise. “You will.”

  Turning, Erin opened the door for him. But he remained where he was. “You’re a lot more certain of that than I am.”

  Erin lifted a shoulder carelessly and let it drop. “Fools rush in—” she began, quoting something he liked to recite to her.

  “—where angels fear to tread,” Brady said automatically. Then he stopped, surprised at his own response.

  Erin grabbed his hand and squeezed. “See?” she cried. “You’re in there, Brady. You’re in this large, sealed room, looking for a way out.” Her eyes caressed him lovingly, eagerly. “And I know you. You’ll find a crack that you’ll force open. That’s where the stubbornness comes in.”

  Brady looked at the set of her chin. “Are you stubborn?”

  She led the way into the room. “You always told me I was. Too stubborn.” She echoed words he had said to her more than once, sometimes lovingly, sometimes not.

  Good. He had a feeling she was going to need that stubbornness. And so was he. “Then don’t give up on me, Erin.”

  Her eyebrows rose in surprise. Give up? After she had found him? No way.

  Impulsively, she did what she had been wanting to do since she’d first seen him today. She threaded her arms around his neck. “I have no intention of giving up on you. Ever.”

  He realized that he was moving on instinct. Instinct that came from some hidden recess within him. Instinct that had a better memory than he did. Brady’s arms went around Erin as he lowered his mouth to hers.

  It was a kiss comprising gratitude and curiosity. Need and exploration. He kissed her because it seemed to be the thing to do, and because he wanted to know what it felt like.

  Brady kissed her because he wanted to jar his memory. And because he simply wanted to.

  Though he still didn’t know her, there was no denying that there was something about her that pulled him toward her, an attraction that was almost magnetic in nature. He didn’t know if it was the sad look in her eyes or the way her mouth quirked. Or the fact that he desperately wanted to reclaim what had once been his and know it as his own again.

  Erin could have cried. But she didn’t. Instead, she lost herself in the delicious sensations that immediately leaped in her veins. The chemistry that had burned brightly between them was still there, despite the fact that the kiss began almost politely. It ignited, catching fire like a candle being lit by a flame thrower.

  Why had he no memory of this woman? Her kiss rocked Brady to his very toes, spreading like liquid fire through his body.

  The kiss quickly deepened, pulling them both in.

  It was there, she thought, rising to her toes. The fire, the emotions, everything. His mind might be sleeping, but his soul was still there, and it belonged to her.

  4

  It seemed as if an eternity had passed before Brady finally stepped back. Stunned by the impact he felt, he looked down at Erin. The kiss had been an instinctive, unpremeditated action, like breathing. He had given it no thought. It had just happened.

  When he kissed her, he had expected it to be pleasant, interesting. Nice. What he hadn’t expected was to be knocked for a loop. Yet that was exactly what had happened.

  “Wow.” He took a deep breath and then exhaled, shaking his head as if to clear it. “You’d think a man would remember something like that.”

  Her hands on his forearms, Erin all but rocked on the balls of her feet. Excitement surged through her. He kissed like Brady. Exactly like Brady. Some part of him was operating on automatic pilot. It was only a matter of time before he healed and remembered everything.

  “Do you?” she asked eagerly, searching his face for a sign. “Just a little?”

  Brady wanted to say yes just to set her mind at ease, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie to her. He had a feeling that he wouldn’t have. Besides, it wouldn’t be fair. She would see through it soon enough if he lied.

  “No.” He smiled into her face. With long, gentle fingers, he swept back the hair that had fallen into her eyes. As he cupped her cheek, the moment hummed of intimacy. “But I think I would like to work on recalling that particular memory.”

  Her breath caught for a moment. The man before her was Brady and yet, he wasn’t, she thought. Brady had never been this forward the first time around. Not when they were first hammering out a relationship. Maybe this “new” Brady would evolve until he merged the best qualities of the man he had been with the one who had just kissed her.

  The one who didn’t know her, but wanted to.

  Heartened, hopeful, Erin returned his smile. His words created an odd thrill. In a way, she was falling in love with him all over again. “Do you want to look through your things now?”

  He nodded, but as she began to walk into the room, Brady didn’t follow.

  Erin turned toward him, puzzled. Was he remembering something, after all? She laid her hand on his arm. “What is it?”

  He looked past her head into the room. A room he’d never seen before. “What if I don’t remember?” He looked into her eyes. “What if I look through everything and still don’t remember?”

  Erin wished she could wipe his fear away for him. She could only guess how horrible it had to be for him, not knowing. It wasn’t exactly a picnic for her, either.

  “You will. If not today, then tomorrow, or the day after. You’ll be walking down the street, and it’ll suddenly play back in your head like a delayed videotape.”

  Brady’s eyes held hers, mesmerized. He was surprised by the intensity he saw there.

  She’d never believed anything so vehemently in her life. “I promise, you will.”

  A smile played on Brady’s lips despite the gravity of his situation. “And you can make a guarantee like that to me.”

  Erin didn’t hesitate for an instant. She raised her chin. “I can.”

  Amusement warred with bewilderment at the illogic of her statement. “How?”

  There were no words to explain the feeling she had in the center of her soul. But as surely as the sun rose in the morning, Erin believed that Brady’s memory would return. They’d had something too precious for him not to remember eventually. She refused to believe that something that good could be lost forever.

  Erin spread her hands innocently. “I just can, that’s all.”

  He laughed shortly as he shook his head. “You’re right. You’re not very logical.”

  It wasn’t anything that she hadn’t heard from his lips a dozen times before. Her eyes shone. “I don’t have to be. I’m pregnant.”

  He wondered why her attitude didn’t irritate him. He assumed it should have. Instead, he found it oddly endearing. “Something tells me that you weren’t logical even before you were pregnant.”

  Was he having a breakthrough, or just teasing her? “Then you remember?”

  Did he? No, this was something he was surmising, based on the behavior he was witnessing, Brady decided. “Not exactly.”

  But that was what she wanted. Exactly. She wanted him to remember everything exactly the way it had happened. It was asking a lot, she realized. Even at his best, Brady tended to be
forgetful. She’d once said that he only remembered Christmas because it was preceded by months of advertising.

  Erin threaded her hand through his and led Brady into the room. “C’mon, let me take you down memory lane. Hopefully,” she added under her breath.

  But he heard. Her sentiment echoed his own.

  Brady spent the next two hours in the room with her, sifting through all the things she told him were his. It did no good. His own possessions did no more to activate his memory than her house had.

  A few items, when he touched or examined them, had stirred something in his mind in a vague sort of way. Like the worn sweatshirt she told him he’d always favored wearing around the house on Sundays. But the feeling was more like the numb buzzing across the sole of a foot that had fallen asleep. There hadn’t been anything more concrete to it than that.

  Erin fingered the mystery book Brady had been reading when he disappeared. He’d forgotten to pack it for his trip. She had to concentrate to suppress her disappointment as she looked at him. His was almost palpable.

  “It’s too soon to expect you to remember.” Erin dug her knuckles into the surface of the bed as she began to get up. These days, that was becoming harder and harder for her to do, especially when she was sitting on something soft.

  Brady rose and automatically took her arm, helping her to her feet. The gesture was so reminiscent of others, she couldn’t understand why it didn’t trigger something inside of him.

  But it didn’t. She could see it in his eyes. “Thank you,” she said softly.

  Brady nodded. Reluctantly, he released her arm. He was about to say something, when the doorbell rang. “That’s Gus.”

  A flutter of unease wound through her at the sound of the bell. She caught his arm as he began to leave the room.

  “Would you like to stay here tonight?” she suggested again. Her own voice sounded a tad too eager to her ear, but there was no time to build up to this moment. She continued quickly. “In here, with your things?” Erin gestured behind her. “Maybe everything might seem clearer to you in the morning.”

  It made sense, but he couldn’t stay. “I have to go to work,” Brady reminded her. Until he could reclaim the world that had been lost to him, he wanted to remain connected to the one he had grown to know.

  Erin wasn’t going to take no for an answer. She really didn’t want to see him walk away again, not with evening sweeping along the streets. Not when so much reminded her of the last time. “I can drive you.”

  He shook his head, walking out of the room. “No, I don’t want to impose, Erin.”

  Erin stopped abruptly. When she caught his arm again, turning him around, he was surprised at the strength and urgency he felt in her grip. And more surprised by the fierceness in her expression.

  “Don’t you get it yet?” After kissing her, after feeling what she was sure he had felt, what she had felt, she didn’t understand how he could say that. “We’re not just polite acquaintances. We were lovers,” she cried. Taking his hand, she placed it on her abdomen. “This is your baby in here. You’re not ‘imposing.’ Imposing is for a third cousin twice removed from Chicago who wants to spend three weeks in your spare bedroom, not someone you were going to build a future with.”

  Her words seemed to vibrate through him. “Were we building a future together?”

  “Yes.”

  It was understood, if not spoken. At least, Erin had thought it was understood. They were going to build forever together. That was why she had been so upset to learn how he actually felt about bringing a child into the world. He liked children. She had naturally thought that he would have liked one of his own. One of their own. Especially since there was one in the offing.

  The doorbell rang again. Brady looked toward the door and then toward Erin. Her hand was still on his arm. Maybe she was right. Maybe waking up in what should be familiar surroundings to him might make him remember something. And even if it didn’t, it seemed to be important to her that he remain.

  “All right,” he agreed. “I’ll stay.”

  “Good.” She exhaled a sigh of relief. Her mind went into high gear again. Thoughts, ideas, began to take shape in her head at a prodigious rate. Her tongue, as always, was ahead of them. “And then, tomorrow afternoon after work,” she said pointedly, “I’m going to take you to the lab. Maybe something there will jar your memory, even if your possessions and I can’t.”

  That settled, Erin smiled brightly and went to open the door for Gus.

  Brady had woken up early every morning and wondered if that was something he had done before he’d lost his memory. This morning, he opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. Slowly, he focused on his surroundings. That same, strange buzzing sound that greeted him each morning was in his ears, that same feeling of helpless disorientation. It had been with him ever since he had come to in that alley, divested of his possessions and his life.

  Brady dug his elbows into the mattress and propped himself up. This wasn’t the room behind the kitchen. He wasn’t at Aphrodite’s.

  Where was he?

  Brady sat up, looking around. There was white molding along the walls, butted up against the ceiling.

  Blue walls. Blue paint. An overturned can and paint spattered on his shoes. No, not shoes, sneakers. New sneakers. Laughter. He could hear it, feel it…

  And then it was gone.

  Damn it, why didn’t these flashes remain for more than a fleeting second, long enough for him to make sense of them?

  But they were almost always gone before he realized they were there.

  He blew out a long breath, dragging a hand through his hair. Another morning in wonderland, he thought, resigning himself.

  The buzzing in his head subsided. It transformed into another noise. Tapping, no knocking. Someone was knocking on his door.

  Erin.

  “Yes?”

  Her first instinct had been to open the door. Prudence made her knock, instead. One small step at a time, she thought. It was so hard, when all she wanted to do was run.

  “Brady? It’s Erin. Are you up?”

  Hers was the most incredibly chipper tone he’d ever heard. It was like listening to the sound of morning birds.

  “No, I’m sleeping,” he quipped, smiling to himself. He found himself looking forward to seeing her. To seeing her smile fill his room. “Yes, I’m up.”

  As soon as he said it, the door flew open. Erin came in, a long pink robe draped over her body, tied with a satin sash that looked vaguely familiar to him. The hem of the robe whispered along the rug as she came in. Her hair was slightly tousled, and she smelled of sleep, soap and exuberance.

  “I was just checking,” she admitted. Erin stood a few steps inside the room, content for the moment just to look at him. “I thought maybe I had dreamed this. That you were back,” she explained.

  “At least in body,” he murmured. Brady swung his legs over the side of the bed. He almost stood up when he remembered that he wasn’t wearing anything. He quickly pulled the covers back over himself.

  Erin grinned at his sudden outburst of modesty. “I’ve seen it before.” Her hand cupped over her belly for emphasis.

  “Yes,” Brady agreed, “but I don’t remember showing it.”

  She laughed. Sleeping in the nude was something new. Brady tended toward pajama bottoms. Some changes, she mused, were apparently for the better. She smiled at him. He was waiting for her to leave before getting dressed. Erin moved toward the door.

  “I’m going to make breakfast for us. French toast.” That had been his favorite.

  Brady waved his hand at the offer. “Just plain toast and coffee,” he told her. “I don’t eat much in the morning.”

  Erin turned to look at him just before she closed the door. “Yes, you do—did.” Don’t push. She sighed. “Plain toast it is.”

  “No,” he called, stopping her. The only way he was going to remember anything, he thought, was if he did everything the way he had done it before. “
Make it your way.”

  “It’s yours, too, Brady,” she reminded him as she walked out.

  Maybe, he thought, staring at the closed door, but he didn’t know it. He started to get up just as Erin reentered the room. He yanked the sheet strategically into place again.

  “Do you do this often?” he asked in exasperation.

  “No, but I might start.” A grin playing on her lips, Erin addressed her words to the ceiling. “You can take a shower in my bathroom.” She crossed her heart. “I promise I won’t come in.”

  Famous last words, he thought.

  When Brady entered the kitchen fifteen minutes later, his hair was still damp. It curled invitingly around his ears and neck. Erin longed to run her fingers through it the way she once had.

  She was right, he thought. The smell of French toast aroused his dormant appetite. He noticed an odd expression on her face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Déjà vu,” she answered. She turned back to the stove and flipped the slices in the skillet a final time. “At least for me. You’ve come padding in barefoot like that in the morning dozens of times. I was just thinking how good it was to see you doing that again.”

  She took out two plates and placed them on the counter. With a quick turn of the spatula, she divided their breakfast. “Find everything you needed in the bathroom?” she asked conversationally.

  “Yes. Was that robe on the hook—”

  “Yours,” she confirmed.

  He nodded to himself as he glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s almost seven. I have to be at the restaurant by eight. Demi serves brunch.”

  Erin couldn’t help wondering, despite Gus’s assurance, what else Demi might have served Brady these past months.

  No, she admonished herself, that train of thought had no place here. The last thing she needed to be was jealous. Quick, helpful, resourceful—she had to be all those things, but not jealous.

  “I can get ready as soon as we finish eating,” she promised. Picking up a plate in each hand, she turned around.