Page 8 of One of Those Amnesia Stories

I forced a smile, hoping it looked convincing enough to end the interrogation before it began. “I’m fine. Cassian’s just stuck at work.”

Naija finally lowered her phone. “Did you talk to him?”

“I called.” I glanced down at my watch, pretending to check the time so neither of them could study my expression too closely. “Got his voicemail.”

Felicity’s eyes lingered on me, waiting.

I could already feel the question forming, so I answered it before either of them had to ask. “But I know he’s at work.” I gave a small shrug. “He’s always at work.”

They shared a look.

I’d been getting that look from them a lot lately. A silent conversation passing between them whenever I smiled too quickly, changed the subject, or gave them one of the excuses I’d repeated so often that they probably knew them by heart.

Felicity turned back to me. “I’m going to ask you again.” She studied my face. “How do you really feel?”

There was no teasing in her expression now.

Felicity had always been frighteningly good at seeing through me. She noticed the smile that arrived a little too quickly, the pauses before an answer, the tiny shifts in expression I didn’t even know I was making. Keeping anything from her had always been a losing battle.

I glanced between them.

They were worried. I could see it in Felicity’s grip around her glass, her knuckles pale beneath the pressure. Naija had tucked her phone away completely, giving me her undivided attention. She only did that when she had decided whoever was in front of her deserved her undivided attention.

Tonight, that person was me.

I understood why they were concerned, but they didn’t need to be.

This was one difficult patch. One crisis. One problem that would pass with time. Cassian would come home, we’d talk, and we’d find our way back to each other. Eventually, my friends would stop watching me so closely whenever I went quiet, and I wouldn’t have to keep reassuring them that I was okay.

I couldn’t make them understand what I saw in him. They knew Cassian. They had spent enough time around him to form their own opinions, but they had never seen the parts of him that belonged only to me.

They hadn’t seen him at home.

They hadn’t seen the man who, after the longest, most exhausting days, still remembered that I liked my evening tea on the balcony. He never made a single cup. There were always two, even though tea had never been his favorite. He drank it because I did. Because sitting beside me mattered more to him than whether he actually wanted the tea.

They hadn’t seen him slip into our bedroom five minutes before I did, night after night, just to warm my side of the bed because I was always cold. Somewhere along the way, he’d decided that keeping me warm was his job.

They hadn’t seen the way he remembered the little things.

The snacks I reached for when I was stressed. The blanket I preferred. The songs I played when I couldn’t sleep. The exact look I gave him when I needed comfort but couldn’t bring myself to ask for it.

They hadn’t seen him laughing until his eyes watered, completely unguarded, with his head thrown back and his entire face transformed by happiness.

So how could I explain that I wasn’t defending a fantasy?

I was defending the man I knew when nobody else was watching.

“Am I disappointed that he’s not here?” A small shrug lifted my shoulders. “Yes. Of course I am. It’s his birthday. I wanted him beside me.” I paused, letting out a breath. “But do I understand him? Yes. He’s not staying away because he wants to. He’s dealing with one of those miserable situations life throws at you without warning. Sometimes I think the universe gets bored and decides we need a little entertainment.”

“So Cassian missing his own birthday party,” Felicity said, “is the universe’s fault.”

“Cosmically speaking? Yes.”

I looked between them, hoping my smile would be convincing enough to put an end to the interrogation. “Besides, tonight is going to help. Tomorrow, everything will change.”

Felicity took an agonizingly slow sip of her drink, her eyes fixed on me over the rim of her glass.

Naija suddenly developed a fascinating interest in the room. Her gaze drifted toward the decorations, then the bar, then a random spot on the ceiling that had apparently become the most compelling thing she’d ever seen.