I tell her about the surreal quality that lingered around me during those months. I was finally doing what I’d dreamed of doing my whole life—of what men across the world die to do. Everyday motions seemed that much more important because I was contributing to an effort bigger than anything I could think of. All of those months of trials and training—Hell Week, SEAL Qualification Training (SQT)—were being put to use. I was prepared for anything. I can’t describe the feeling of pride that happens when preparedness meets talent,knowing the caliber of men surrounding me. All of it was surreal perfection, albeit dangerous.
Carina scribbles down her notes furiously as I keep talking. She asks so many questions. They aren’t superficial questions, either. She wants to know what I was thinking when so-and-so happened and why I made a certain choice. She forces me into this introspective atmosphere that stings with reality. Her whole demeanor changes when we talk. Gone is the meek, mild-tempered woman. She’s replaced with a voracious, hungry woman. She’s sharp-tongued and holds nothing back. Carina isn’t scared when we’re talking. She’s merely herself.
“You remember all of those details from that long ago? It’s so strange. Your amnesia,” Carina remarks.
I’m thankful for the memories I’ve kept, but a lot of times they’re just a reminder of everything I’ve forgotten. Megan. My stomach flips. I have an honest-to-goodness bout of dizziness.
Sighing, I hang my head down to regain my wiles. “I’m lucky to be alive. That’s the fact we need to focus on.” I blink several times to clear my head. “Do you believe in a higher power, Carina?”
She seems taken aback by my question. “Of course,” Carina replies, waving her hand to the side. “Look at this.” She lays a hand on her chest. “And this,” she says, gently laying her fingers on my exposed forearm. “Why do you ask?”
“I have to believe the things I’ve forgotten weremeant to stay that way. When I think about it, I feel guilty, so I’ve come to blame someone else. I may never remember, or I could wake up tomorrow and have every single memory come flooding back. I chose to believe I have no control in that. Someone or something larger than life has a hand in that choice. I’m okay with it. So, yes. I remember those details because I was supposed to.”
Carina shakes her head and slides her notebook back into her bag. “I don’t know if I believe in it that much. I understand why you do, though.” She sits up straight, tucks her golden locks behind one ear, and narrows her eyes. “It’s easy to blame anyone other than yourself.”
With one sentence, she’s torn a hole in my defense. I can’t blame myself because I can’t remember. But I should be to blame. For pushing Megan away inadvertently. For trying to get our old relationship back for too long. For spending more time rehabbing my career instead of my engagement. I am to blame, and I’ve realized all of that is okay. I take her hand in mine. “Thank you.”
She smiles and looks away. “I have no idea what you’re thanking me for, but you’re welcome. I should be the one thanking you. You gave me enough to write into the wee hours of the morning.” I release her hand, but she doesn’t move it away from me. I do see her quick gaze dart around us every once in a while. Her gaze flicks back to the little dog. She smiles.
“Don’t be afraid, Carina. You’re safe. I’m proud ofyou. I’m here for you.” I also tell her that there’s no way he would recognize her with her new hair.
She doesn’t think the joke is funny, but she does tell me she’s shopping for a new car this afternoon with Jasmine. She is trying to disappear without disappearing.
“You can’t be there for me,” she says, stopping mid-sentence. Carina closes her mouth and looks away. “You can’t.”
“Of course I can,” I return.
She sighs. “You don’t live with me, Smith. No one can keep me completely safe twenty-four hours a day. There’s vulnerability in merely living. I’m sure it will get better with time,” she says, swallowing. “But right now the last thing I feel is safe.”
I nod. With a hammering heart, I say the first thing that comes to mind. “I’ll live with you.”
“What?” Carina asks, voice loud.
I shrug. “I’m not allergic to cats.”
CHAPTER NINE
Carina
Sweat is pouringdown my body. “And then he said, ‘I’ll live with you,’” I say, dotting my brow with my workout towel. My workout capris and tank are soaked through. “Just like that. Tell me what that sounds like to you.”
“He didn’t say anything else?” Jasmine asks.
Our other friend, Teala, the one I usually just see at our boot camp class, looks at me with confusion. “That seems really weird. Like he asked to move in with you? Or you to move in with him? Confusion isn’t strange in this instance, honey.”
I shake my head, still breathing heavily from the intense cardio. We’re unable to talk during the ferocious hour we’re getting our butts handed to us by the trainer, so it all spills out as we make our way into the street to find our cars. “He got a phone call from Moose and had to leave after that. I didn’t have a chance to probe. God, I should have. It makes no sense whatsoever. He texted me this morning and wants to meet for dinner tonight.”
“Dinner?” Teala asks. “Not an interview, but dinner?” She knows our story, so she’s able to keep up for the most part.
Raising my sweaty brows, I nod. “Dinner. At my favorite tapas place in Gaslamp.” I wipe in between my boobs with the towel and then tuck it into the back of my pants. The Gaslamp District is downtown San Diego. They have the best restaurants and bars. It’s eclectic and vibrant, full of museums and historic apartment buildings. It’s a place where you canfeeleverything. “That isn’t a place where we’d ever do an interview. It’s loud.”
“It’s a date,” Teala says. “You said yes, right?”
If my heart wasn’t hammering from my workout, it would be now. Someone else saying the word I’ve been thinking makes it real. Smith asked me on a date. I can’t be the other girl in this twisted relationship. Megan is the woman he should be with. The photos I saw of them confirm that. He loved her. Everything about her, Smith loved. He cherished her smile, worshipped the ground she walked on. But then again, I catch myself thinking in the past tense. He loved her in those photos from their past. Everything changed after he lost Henry. After he lost pieces of himself.
“I said yes. He’s my friend,” I reply.
“Moose. That’s a real name, Care?” Jasmine asks, detouring our conversation to something that may benefit her.
