Page 123 of One of Those Amnesia Stories

But hearing it said out loud—hearing someone else say it, without hesitation—shifted something fundamental.

It mattered more than I wanted to admit.

I cleared my throat, breaking the fragile spell of understanding, and looked away from his intense gaze. “How did you even know all this?”

“Your mother called me earlier today,” he said, the words tinged with sheepishness.

My brows shot up. I turned my gaze back to him. “I wasn’t aware you two were in contact.”

He gave a slight, helpless shrug. “I mean… you and I are married. She had my number.”

“Were,” I corrected.

He looked down, his fingers giving a soft, reflexive tap against the granite countertop. “Right,” he murmured, the word almost lost in the quiet of the kitchen.

He glanced at me, a flicker of concern in his eyes. “Don’t stress yourself, okay?”

I gave him a polished, empty smile. “I’m perfectly fine.”

He narrowed his eyes, scanning the kitchen before landing back on me. “Did you bake?”

I narrowed mine right back. “I don’t think I like you knowing things about me.”

A genuine, boyish grin broke across his face. “Too bad. You can’t do anything about it.”

My gaze drifted slowly, pointedly, to the knife block on the counter, then back to him.

The smile vanished. He took a deliberate step back. “I should… probably get going.”

I let my own smile return, all sweet. “You should.”

He moved toward the door when a low, rumbling meow cut through the quiet. The cat padded over, stopped at Cassian’s feet, and looked up at him.

Cassian stopped and scooped the cat up without hesitation. “Hello, Mr. Fitzherbert. How are you holding up?”

The cat offered a lengthy, conversational meow.

Cassian nodded solemnly. “That tough, huh?”

In response, Mr. Fitzherbert extended a single, deliberate paw and swiped it across the back of Cassian’s hand, leaving three fine red lines. Cassian set him down gently, and the cat sauntered away, tail held high.

I stepped to Cassian’s side, inspecting the faint red lines. “Aww, he scratched you. Felicity says if he scratches you, it means he loves you.”

Cassian examined his hand, then looked down the hall where the cat had disappeared. A deep frown creased his brow. “Is that why he’s always done that? I always thought it was because he wanted me to put him down.”

I pressed a hand to my chest in mock horror. “He’s loved you for years. He’s your one true love.” I shook my head with sorrow. “And to think you wasted all that time with me.”

His eyes snapped to mine, the humor draining away, replaced by something stark and earnest. “The time I spent away from you is what was wasted, Alessia.”

I tilted my head. “Did you steal that line from a movie or a book?”

“It’s a Cassian original. And no,” he said, taking a slow step backward toward the open door, “you can’t steal it.”

“Oh no,” I murmured dryly. “Whatever will I do now.”

He gave a final, small smile, then turned and was gone, the door clicking shut softly behind him.

I turned from the door to find two pairs of eyes fixed on me from the couch. The moment they saw me looking, they snapped their attention to each other and launched into a conspicuously loud, fake conversation about popcorn.