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“Yes. I do.”
She nodded but she couldn’t hide her disbelief. It was one of my favorite things about Megan, that she wore every emotion she felt on her face for the world to see. “Sure.”
“Megan.”
She turned again. “Yeah?”
“The menu looks good.”
Megan scoffed and shook her head. “I’d rather you just be angry. Don’t lie to me because you think it’s what I want to hear. I’ll see you at home, Casey.” She left without another word and I sat in my office feeling even worse.
Why in the hell couldn’t I just be happy for my wife? When she first took over the bakery, I was thrilled for her. It gave her a job that she loved and a way to stay in Jackson’s Ridge without sacrificing her own happiness. But lately, I made nothing but mistakes with Megan at every turn and I couldn’t say why.
No amount of introspection helped, so I grabbed my phone and called the one person who might have answers. “Mom.”
“Jackson, honey. What’s wrong?”
I smiled at her words. “Is it that obvious?”
“Only to those who gave birth to you and raised you. What is it?”
I didn’t want to be a child whining to his mother when things didn’t go his way, but she knew Megan and I better than almost anyone. Maybe she could offer insight I didn’t have or couldn’t see. I told her about Megan’s visit, the pistachio cookies and our argument. “Why am I being such a dick?”
Mom’s laugh was warm and full-throated, and it pulled a reluctant laugh from me. “Oh honey, you’ve never been comfortable with change.”
“Mom, I’m a surgeon. My whole day is one change after the next.”
“Sure,” she said slowly, drawing the word out and I could just about picture her nodding just as slowly. “But that’s controlled changed. You know what to do if this vein is bleeding or that artery is backed up. Life, and relationships, aren’t so simple.”
“So what you’re saying is that I’m inflexible.”
“Not at all. What I’m saying is that you and Megan have known each other for your whole lives. With the exception of medical and culinary schools, you’ve been in each other’s pockets since the day you met. The accident has changed Megan, even if it’s just a little, and you’re having a hard time dealing with that.”
Which was almost exactly what Megan said to me. “She’s worried I can’t love her if she’s not exactly the same as she was before the accident.”
“That’s because you keep giving her reasons to doubt you and your relationship. Why don’t you try showing her just how happy you are that she didn’t die on the side of that road? Maybe romance her in a way that tells her you want her, even if she does cuss like a sailor these days.”
I laughed at the smile I heard in my mom’s voice. “I do love her. The cursing is new, but everything else are parts of her that I missed the past few years.”
“That’s good. Embrace the changes and maybe this is the perfect time for you two to get to know each other all over again. Your father and I have a date night at least once each week, talk about new hobbies and interests, even a news story one of us found particularly intriguing. Keeps things fresh and keeping them fresh, keeps them alive, son.”
“Words of wisdom from the smartest woman I know.”
She let out a pretty, feminine laugh. “You better believe it, buster.”
“Thanks, Mom. Love you.”
“Love you too, Casey. Good luck with Megan.”
“Thanks.” I had a feeling I would need more than luck this time.
Megan
Whipping egg whites into meringue was a delicate process that, sure, required some elbow grease but not this much. “Dammit.” It was a good thing that I bought more eggs than two people could possibly eat in a week, because I had to do another batch over. Again.
“Why did I choose to make meringues to calm me down?” After leaving the hospital, I was furious. I don’t know what in the hell the people of this town—and my memories—were going on about, because it didn’t feel like Casey and I were madly in love. It felt like we were a couple in crisis, pulling away from each other, but trying to hang on to the past.
Put simply, Casey was a jerk. And I was in love with that jerk, which only begged the question how had I gotten myself in this position? By getting dinked on the head by a thief, that’s how. I guess that was my fault for trusting a stranger, or maybe for planning something special for our anniversary.
Maybe the anniversary thing was supposed to be one last hurrah before we went our separate ways. Maybe Jackson was only trying to help my memories come back so I’d remember that we were headed down the road to breakup, to divorce.
