Page 3 of Before I Lost You

“Yeah, well, I can change my mind.”

Emerson raises an eyebrow. “Has someone made you change your mind?”

“No,” I deny immediately, a little too quickly. His eyes narrow in suspicion. “I haven’t met anyone yet. But I want to.”

“What are you looking for?” he asks, taking another bite of food.

“Someone completely opposite of me in every sense of the word.” I shrug. “Not married to his job, but still ambitious. Someone soft, sweet. A man who wants commitment, marriage even.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Em snorts, slapping his hand on the bar once. My face doesn’t change, and his jaw drops again. “Holy shit. You’re serious.”

“I am.” I shrug.

“Oh, this is too good.” He grins. “I’m so going to be your wingman. We’re going to get you your dream guy.”

“I don’t need—”

“Yes, you do.” Emerson grabs my arm and squeezes once. “Don’t shatter my dreams yet. I want to do this.”

“Fine.” I sigh, running a hand down my face. “But no blind dates. I can’t take it.”

Emerson looks giddy as he nods, a smile widening on his face. “Deal.”

He looks at the time on his phone and asks for the tab, then pays for both of us, even after I offer to pay for my half. We leave the bar and grill, waiting for our Uber outside, and thankfully, it gets here fairly quickly. The air conditioning blasting against my face is a welcome reprieve from the summer heat, and I watch the city pass me by as we drive toward our destination.

After a few minutes in the car, we finally pull up to the venue. There’s a man at the door checking for tickets, and Emerson useshis phone to be scanned, and then we go inside. The lighting is low, and there are lights above each photograph, illuminating them. The photographers are clearly talented, and though I’m not much of a connoisseur, I can admit I’ve never seen any that are this breathtaking. There’s one picture in particular that is drawing me in—a pair of hypnotic indigo-blue eyes. The man’s face is obscured in shadow, but his golden hair falls over his eyebrows in a way that has my breath getting caught in my throat.

I look to my right, and there, a few feet away, stands a man staring intently at a picture. I take him in from head to toe, admiring his golden curls, the way his suit fits him perfectly. His nose is slightly upturned, his profile beautiful, his lips full. He looks to be around five foot ten, roughly three or so inches shorter than me, clearly muscular, though not as big as me. If I weren’t on a hookup ban, he’d be in my bed tonight. That’s for damn sure.

He fidgets with his hands, and my eyes are drawn to them, just for my breath to punch out of my lungs. Because there, between his thumb and forefinger, is an infinity tattoo. I take a step back, my eyes locked on his hand. What the fuck? There’s no way this is happening. The man from my dreams isn’t real. This isn’t him. It can’t be, right? That would make no sense. I stumble back a step, and Emerson steadies me, but when I look up, I make eye contact with the most beautiful pair of indigo-blue eyes I’ve ever seen. The same ones from the picture. We stare at each other for a beat, and he gives me a soft smile before I gulp and look away.

I need to get the fuck out of here.

I walk briskly to the exit, tripping over my feet a few times too many, and gasp when I finally make it outside. I brace my hands on my knees and bend at the waist, gulping in air as if I’ve just run a marathon. It makes no sense—none of this shit makes any sense. How is it possible to dream of someone you’ve never seenbefore, just to meet them in real life? Am I even awake right now, or is this a dream too?

For fuck’s sake.

A hand lands on my shoulder and squeezes, then Emerson comes to stand at my side. There’s a look of concern on his face when I look up at him, his brows furrowed and lips tipping down. I shake my head and straighten, just to realize that my body is shaking. I’m literally trembling. I don’t think I’ve ever been this affected by anyone before, and it makes me wonder if it’s because of the man himself or just the predicament I’ve found myself in. Because how do you explain the unexplainable? God, Emerson is going to think I’ve gone insane.

“I need to go.” My voice sounds rough, and I clear my throat.

“Is something the matter?” Emerson’s frown has stuck around, and I shake my head, trying to reassure him. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I have.“I’m fine,” I tell him, and I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince him or myself. Maybe a little bit of both. “I just want to leave.”

“Con, we’ve been here for ten minutes.”

“Yeah, I know.” I smile shakily, “That’s okay. You can stay.”

“No way in hell am I leaving you until you tell me what the hell that was about.” He drops his hand from my shoulder and pulls up the Uber app, ordering a car and entering his address. “Come. You can spend the night.”

I blow out a big breath. “Don’t you have a girl to impress?”

“Another time,” he says, smiling. “We have a date set up for tomorrow night.”

“Look at you go.” I grin, my body finally relaxing a bit.

Our Uber pulls up, and we get in, going back toward the bar and grill. Emerson’s apartment is just around the corner from there, and mine is a couple of blocks further. I could really use a friend right now, which is the only reason I’m going with him.But can I really tell him what’s on my mind? I’m not sure how crazy he’ll deem me to be, but it sounds crazy even to me, and I’m the one going through it.