If she’s lying to me, using my injury to manipulate me then I’m left with nothing but false hope and empty promises. I want to believe everything she told me is true and until my memories return, my guard is up.
The trainer from the team arrives and checks me out. Then, we order pizza and bullshit for the rest of the night. Before he leaves, he examines me again.
“I’m not going to seize and die,” I reassure him. “I’m a few days past the injury. No blurred vision, no splitting headache, no vomiting.”
“That’s all good to hear but you’re our star Maverick. We can’t risk losing you permanently.”
“Then stay the night. Guest room is down the hall. Second door on the right.”
“I trust you but the minute you start feeling off, call me. I’m not going to jeopardize my job just because you decided to put yourself into a permanent vegetative state.”
I follow him to the front door. “Not going to happen. See you in the morning.”
After he leaves, I roam around the house searching for clues I married Mia.
There are signs of her everywhere, from the bedroom closet filled with her clothes to the bathroom vanity littered with all her lotions and potions. There is even proof in the refrigerator when I open it up to grab a bottle of water. Her favorite brand of coffee creamer sits on the top shelf, staring me in the face.
I shut the refrigerator after staring at its contents for longer than necessary. The ache in my head starts to throb so I head toward the living room to relax on the couch in front of the fire. On my way there, I stumble just a bit and the dining room table is there to help steady me. My hand brushes against a thick envelope, knocking it to the floor. When I bend to pick it up, I notice the return address. Chapel of Burning Love. Las Vegas.
No fucking way.
My fingers shake as I tear open the envelope and then pull out the photographs inside. Mia was right. We are married. I recognize the genuine happiness on my face. One by one, I study each picture, hoping the memories will start to come back. I’ve already had flickers of memories start returning but they haven’t been anything significant, just flashes of ordinary life.
There is only one person who can give me more answers and she’s gone. I don’t even know where she’s staying. I rush into the living room where my phone sits on the coffee table and send Mia a text.
Me: I need to talk to you.
Mia: So call me.
Me: No, in person. Where are you staying?
Mia: Did your memories come back.
Me: No. Just tell me where you’re staying.
She sends the address of the hotel and I snatch the photographs off the table before racing out of the house. I don’t even bother to change. I wasted too much time being angry when I should have been listening to her this whole time. My walls are still in place though until I know the truth, even if I can’t remember it.
I’m not cleared to drive and the combination of the darkness with the bright streetlights is jarring as I navigate downtown to the hotel where Mia is staying.
My feet can’t carry me fast enough to her room once I’ve parked the car and sprint into the lobby. I jam my fingers into the elevator button over and over as if that will somehow make it arrive faster. My leg shakes with nervous energy once I’m inside the car as it glides up to her floor.
“Come on,” I mutter, tapping the envelope of pictures against my thigh.
When the elevator doors slide open with a ding, I step out and finally take a breath to calm myself. An Elvis song, “Love Me Tender”, is stuck in my head and I murmur the lyrics as I search for her room.
She opens the door and steps out into the hall before I even reach her.
“How did you know I was here?”
“We’ve known each other since our freshman year of college,” she says. “I’m attuned to every sound you make.”
“That’s a lie,” I challenge her.
“No, it’s true, but I’ve also been coming out to check every few minutes. I got lucky this time.”
She pushes the door to her room open and steps inside, waiting for me to follow before closing it. “What do we need to talk about?”
I hold up the envelope with the pictures. “This. Everything. I don’t remember getting back together with you or even marrying you, but these pictures tell me everything I need to know.”
