“It got us in the mood,” she says quietly, “and it was also fun to perform for future us, knowing we’d watch it later.”
I have no idea how to respond to this and drop my phone in my lap, right on my semihard dick. I wince, fighting a groan. That’s certainly one way to help the current situation.
We fall into a beat of silence, and Emery seems to read the way my brain has locked up. She sits up, taking a deep breath. “I was doing some research on amnesia, its causes, and how to treat it.”
“Yeah?” I’m grateful for the track change, even if it’s a return to the subject that bothers me the most.
“Unfortunately,” she says, “there aren’t any medications to help, and unless the memory loss is caused by a known trauma or injury, there isn’t any concrete treatment. Your scans didn’t show any physical damage, so that sort of rules any of that out. There’s always cognitive rehabilitation, but that’s more for short-term memory issues, and rebuilding skills, which wouldn’t apply to you, either.” She smiles at me, her dark eyes shining hopefully. “I know that might not sound very encouraging, but I do have an idea.”
“Yeah?”
“I think we should start at the beginning. I know you don’t have the greatest impression of me right now, but we really did have so much fun together.”
I nod to the phone in my lap, my meaning clear:Our sex life seemed pretty good.
She laughs. “Well, yes. That, too. But also, in other ways.”
I tilt my head, listening.
“I want you to do what you’re comfortable with, but maybe we can look at this as a bit of a do-over.”
“A do-over?”
“Yeah. We could go out, when you’re up to it, of course. We could pretend it’s our actual first date?”
“I think I’d like that.”
A relieved smile returns. “Really? Even after everything you’ve heard, you still want to date me?”
I grin. “Well, yeah.” I nod to my phone. “I’ve just seen your boobs.”
She laughs. “Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t put out on the first date.”
“Funny, that’s not what I heard.”
Her laugh grows. “Busted!”
I lift one corner of my mouth, liking this easy, playful energy between us. “Maybe we can do something tomorrow if I’m not so exhausted and the leg is a bit more healed?”
Emery nods. “Perfect.”
“You’re exhausted, too. I can see it.”
She shrugs. “Being tired feels like a blessing, honestly. I’ll be tired if it means I don’t lose my husband.”
I smile at her. “You don’t have to sleep on the couch, you know.”
“I want you to be comfortable.”
“The bed is big enough for two people,” I say.
“Yes, but I mean emotionally as well as physically. I want you to know that I’m committed to helping you come back to this life however I can. And if we’re going to get to start over, let’s do it for real. You take the bed, and I’ll sleep out here.”
I begin to protest, but she holds up a hand to stop me.
“You are not sleeping on the couch, Luca. I’m not even entertainingthe idea. You’re still healing and could really hurt yourself if you fell off. Besides,” she says, looking down to where Honey is leaning against my side, “I don’t think you and your new girlfriend would both fit out here anyway.”
As if she knows she’s the topic of conversation, Honey looks up at me and thumps her tail against the sofa.
