He nods. “Yes. You liked the alliteration.”
He certainly has my number there. I love alliteration. Tess Thurman. Although it’s not quite alliteration because the first letter of both names make a different sound. But it’s still pretty.
“How old am I?” I ask. My cheeks burn at the question. It’s humiliating to have to ask something so basic. My age. Even a preschooler can tell you how old they are.
“You’re thirty-six.”
Thirty-six. The last thing I remember before I went to bed was being twenty-nine years old. And now suddenly, I’ve lost seven years. Sevenyears. I’m now within throwing distance of forty. And this is not anything like the way I pictured my life at age thirty-six.
I push some of the brown eggs around my plate with my fork. “How long have we been married?”
“Four years.”
Four years. I’ve been married to this man for four years. Wow. Even though Graham is a stranger to me, he must know me very well. “Do we have children together?”
He sips from his coffee. “No.”
“Why not?”
“We just don’t.”
He acts like it’s a stupid question, but I don’t think it’s a stupid question. I wanted children—very much. It’s something Harry and I used to talk about before we were even engaged. I want to press Graham further on this, buthe doesn’t seem to want to talk about it. And it’s not like there’s any shortage of questions running through my head.
“What do you do for a living?” I ask.
“I’m an accountant by trade.” He dabs his lips with a napkin. “But right now, I’m managing My Home Spa.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “My company? You’re working there?”
“Somebody had to keep it going.”
He doesn’t have to say the obvious: I can’t do it anymore.
It makes me wonder about how successful my little company has become. It must do decently if Graham felt it was worth his time to keep it going when I couldn’t. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
He smiles—it’s a bit condescending. “I don’t think so. But thanks for offering.”
I pick up my own napkin from the table and start ripping it into little shreds. It’s a nervous habit I have. Whenever I go to a restaurant, I always leave behind piles of ripped tissue. Harry always says to me,I’ll always know how to find you because of the trail of paper you leave behind.Then he cleans it up before we leave.
Did.Didclean it up.
“How did we meet?” I ask.
“You were about to cross thirty-fifth street.” He scoops up the last of his eggs. “And there was this car rushing at you, but you didn’t see it.” He pauses dramatically. “I grabbed you just before the bastard ran you down.”
I cover my mouth with my hand. “Oh my God. So… you saved my life…”
He nods slowly. “The second I laid eyes on you, I just knew we were going to be together for the rest of our lives. You said the same thing. It was… fate.”
That’s just about the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard. It’s like something out of a movie. I stare at Graham across the table, now seeing him in a little new light. This mansaved my life. He’s been taking care of me for the last year, since my accident. He’s a good guy. And his cologne smells awful nice…
Oh my God, what am I thinking? I hardly know this man. I drop my eyes, my cheeks burning.
“So.” My throat tightens. “Do I ask you the same questions every single morning?”
“More or less.” He shrugs. “I don’t mind. I mean, how else are you supposed to know what’s going on? It’s okay. You can ask me whatever you want.”
“I…” I reach into the void of my memory, feeling a burst of frustration. He’s being so patient, but the sad truth is, I could ask him questions all morning and still feel lost. It’s better just to go about my day. “Could I have something to drink?”
