He offers me a tiny smile. He’s disappointed, but he’s trying not to let on. I might not know this guy, but he’s been so nice to me today. He comforted me when I was freakingout in the bathroom. He made me breakfast, even though it was very slightly charred black. He’s been patiently answering my stupid questions all morning. Maybe I still can’t remember him, but I can tell my letter was correct: he’s a good man.
So as he turns to leave the kitchen, I reach out and grab his arm. He looks back at me, blinking in surprise. And before I can overthink it, I lean forward and brush my lips against his.
I meant it just to be a quick peck, but Graham holds me there for an extra beat. When our lips part, that tiny smile is broadening across his lips. He looks the happiest I’ve seen him since I woke him up by screaming my ex-boyfriend’s name.
“Have a good day at work,” I murmur. “And thanks for taking care of my company.”
He envelopes my hand in his larger one and gives it a squeeze. “Anything for you, Tess.”
It isn’t until Graham has left the kitchen that I realize Camila has been glaring at us the whole time.
Chapter 6
Camila...
I’m not sure what to make of that woman. I’ve only known her for about five minutes—at least, five minutes that I remember. She claims we’refriends. I find it a little hard to believe.
“What?” I finally say, because she is still staring at me. “What is it?”
“You don’t usually kiss him.” She lifts her shoulders. “I was just surprised. That’s all.”
“Well, he is my husband, isn’t he? Why can’t I kiss him?” I’m trying not to sound belligerent, but it’s hard. Everyone is treating me like I’m a child.
She peers at me with her big, doe-like eyes. She’s not wearing any mascara, but she has unfairly beautiful eyelashes. “Do you remember him?”
“I… a little.”
It’s a lie. I still can’t remember a damn thing aboutGraham, aside from what I learned this morning. But I married him, so I must have loved him. And he’s been amazing to me this morning—even after I spit out the pomegranate juice he went to so much trouble to buy for me.
Camila flashes me a skeptical look. It irritates me that this woman knows more about my life than I do. I wish I could ask her some of the questions I was afraid to ask Graham. But there’s no way. I can’t have a heart-to-heart with a girl I just met. I’ll have to give Lucy a call later.
Camila looks down at my plate, where the eggs Graham made me are nearly untouched. In addition to being dry, they lacked any sort of seasoning. She smirks. “Your husband is not a good cook.”
“No,” I admit. “He isn’t.”
“I’ll make you some breakfast,” she says. “What would you like? More eggs?”
The thought of a big heaping plate of scrambled eggs makes my stomach turn. “Just some toast would be fine. Thank you.”
She winks at me. “Coming right up.”
I watch Camila rifle through the refrigerator for a loaf of bread. I don’t think she’s done it intentionally, but she looks incredibly sexy in her casual outfit. She’s wearing the same skinny jeans that I am, but they show off the sensual curves of her bottom and her shapely legs.
I can’t help but think of the way Camila and Graham were sharing those knowing looks. They see each other every day, sharing the experience of dealing with me and my memory issues. And Camila is at least a decade youngerthan I am and far more attractive. Is it possible that they…?
No. I can’t think that way. I’ll drive myself crazy. God knows, I have enough to think about today.
Ziggy was whimpering at the back door, but when he notices Camila, he trots over to her and nuzzles her leg. She smiles down at him, then she grabs a treat from the cabinet over the sink. She holds it in her palm and he laps it up happily.
“How long have you worked here?” I ask her.
She runs her fingers under the faucet to wash off the dog’s saliva. “About a year. Since you came home from the hospital.”
“Do you like it?”
“It’s not bad.”
“That sounds enthusiastic.”
