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“My Sexy Husband?”
“You did that, not me, Megs. But I do appreciate it.”
I winked at her, shoved my hands in my pocket and walked off with a smile—the first I’d worn since Cal told me the bad news.
Megan
“This is it.” Casey pulled into the driveway of a two-story colonial-style house with bright blue shutters on all the windows—and there were a lot of windows.
The house was big. Too big for just two people, but it was beautiful.
“This is our home, Megs. We’ve lived here for about six years. Before that, you were in a small apartment near the town square. Ready?”
I wasn’t sure if I was ready to walk through that bright red door, but I needed to recover my memories, and if being in this house—our house—was how I’d accomplish it, then I had to try.
“As ready as I can be, given the current state of things.”
His lips tugged into a crooked grin that made my heart skip a beat. He was so damn good looking, and that was bad enough, but nice and charming and patient on top of it? Well, it was an irresistible combination.
“It won’t be so bad, I swear.” There went that grin again just before he stepped out of the car and jogged around to open my door. “Come on.”
I nodded and accepted his hand, stepping out onto the smooth driveway and taking another long look at the house where Megan and Casey lived together.
“Lead the way, Casey.”
He stopped and looked at me in surprise.
“What?”
“You called me by my name.”
I frowned. “What else would I call you?”
“You haven’t called me anything since you woke up. I like to hear my name on your lips.” Casey shrugged and took my hand in his, leading the way up the three stone steps and to the cute little shiny door. “Welcome home, Megan.”
Home. It was a word that should have made me feel warm and welcome, or at least hopeful. Right? The place was beautiful, tastefully decorated in vibrant colors and adorable accents that made the place feel lived in. It made visitors—like me—feel welcome.
“I’ll go get our things.”
I nodded at Casey’s words and looked around to figure out if I was the same woman who picked out these decorations. Would I have chosen a yellow sofa with black-and-white striped throw pillows? It was the centerpiece of the living room and despite the vibrant colors, it wasn’t over the top. It wasn’t gaudy or ostentatious, just colorful.
The coffee table, made of actual tree trunks and blown glass, looked like some kind of modern art piece. It was tasteful and a little bizarre, but somehow it worked. Photos covered every flat space in the living room, dining room, and the walls. Casey and Megan on the beach. At a carnival. A pie-eating contest. Skiing in the mountains. Karaoke. Hanging out with friends and family. There were so many of the same people in all the photos, it was hard to tell who were friends and who were family.
The dining room table was scattered with piping bags, a cookie press, four different cupcake holders, and a tasteful ceramic cake plate. He did say I went to culinary school, so this makes sense.
A hand fell on my shoulder and startled a scream out of me. I jumped and turned, and punched Casey right in the left bicep. “Shit. I’m sorry, Casey. You scared the hell out of me.”
He gave me a strange look and removed his hand. “Sorry. I thought you heard me set the bags down.” His gaze went to the pile of bags at the foot of the staircase, and I realized he’d been in and out a few times.
“I didn’t. Sorry. I guess I’m a little jumpy.”
“Does that mean you’re remembering things about the man who attacked you? Or that you’re still uncomfortable around me?” The questions were matter-of-fact, asked so casually, but he had to be frustrated. Annoyed that his own wife seemed scared of him.
“Neither. It means I was so lost in thought, trying to remember buying this stuff or taking these photos, that I zoned out. Nothing more, I swear.”
He smiled. “We fought like crazy over that yellow sofa, but you were right, it did grow on me.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “Yeah. After a long day at work or when I’m just in a bad mood, that yellow is surprisingly soothing.” He shook off the sad, wistful expression that crossed his face and flashed a smile. “How about a quick tour?”
“That would be nice.” I followed Casey, ignoring the way the jeans he wore hugged his tight ass and clung to his thick thighs. I thought he’d be tall and lean under his slacks and white coat, but the rest of his body matched his broad shoulders.
“It’s a lot to remember, I know. Sorry to throw so much at you.”
