Page 128 of One of Those Amnesia Stories

She frowned, a faint line appearing between her brows. “Why are you here and not Liam?”

Because he’s an idiot.

“Because he’s an idiot,” I blurted out.

My eyes widened the moment I said it. A flush of heat climbed my neck.

Her brows lifted, and a flicker of amusement softened her features. Finally, she reached out and took my hand.

Her skin was icy. A shock of cold against my palm, as if she’d been holding snow.

Without thinking, I tightened my grip, my thumb pressing lightly against the back of her knuckles, hoping to transfer some warmth.

“Nice to meet you, Cassian.” She released my hand, the cold lingering on my skin. “How is Liam an idiot?”

I glanced at the empty chair across from her.

“You can sit,” she said.

I took the seat. “I didn’t mean idiot idiot. He’s just… chronically date-blind. When we were kids, I had to remind him of the important days. He tries on his own, though—calendars, alarms, the whole system—but there’s always one thing he forgets to log. One thing that slips through.”

She smiled. It was a polite, practiced curve of her lips that didn’t touch her eyes. “And this time, I got the honor.”

My gaze stayed on that empty smile. “It seems so.”

“So I’m guessing he’s either not in the city,” she said, “or somewhere so important he can’t leave?”

I sighed. “He’s out of the city.”

She shook her head, a tiny, exasperated movement, and muttered something under her breath that sounded like, “This will be a fun story to tell.” Then she looked at me, her expression shifting back to polite finality. “It was very nice meeting you, Cassian. I should get going—”

A loud, low grumble cut through the quiet cafe.

My hand flew to my stomach, pressing down as if I could silence the betrayal. I closed my eyes, a wave of pure, undiluted embarrassment washing over me.

Liam was going to owe me for life.

I opened my eyes to find Alessia studying me, her head tilted. “Were you in one of those breakfast meetings without the breakfast?”

I cleared my throat, my hand falling from my stomach. “No, there was food.”

“Did they tell you they wouldn’t work with you if you ate?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Do you get shy eating around other people?”

“No.”

She leaned forward, elbows on the table, her gaze intent. Almost instinctively, I mirrored her, leaning in across the small space.

She lowered her voice to a whisper. “This is the part where you tell me the real reason you couldn’t eat at the meeting and stop me from making assumptions.”

I straightened, a flush creeping up my neck again. “Right. Sorry. My brain… it sort of short-circuits when I’m this hungry.” I ran a hand through my hair. “I’m just… really, really hungry.”

Amusement danced across her features. “I can tell.” She leaned back and opened the menu, her eyes scanning it with efficient speed. “Do you have any allergies?”

“Oh, no. None.”