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“No.”
Jumping up, she rushes me and brings me into an embrace. “I’m so sorry. Are you physically okay?”
I nod, my eyes suddenly tearing. Why? Why am I so weak to my emotions? Because this is the welcome wagon I had hoped for. Family. Friends. Finding someone to help me through this. But it’s frustrating that I don’t even know her name.
She holds me tighter. “It’s okay. I’ll help you however I can.” Stepping back, she asks, “Is that why you were gone so long with no contact?”
“For the past two months, yes. I had a concussion, but I’m doing much better now, except for the memory loss. I woke up in the hospital and didn’t even know my own name.”
A small gasp is sucked in again as she shakes her head. “That’s awful.” Taking hold of my hand, she holds it between hers. A smile matching the gentle kindness of her grasp shapes her expression. “I’m Allison. Allison Wyatt. Your best friend since preschool. The other pea in your pod, peas to your carrots, BFFL, ride or die, but let’s not die. Okay?”
“I’m trying not to.” Laughing with her invigorates me, renewing the strength that had been waning. “Deal. Also, that’s a lot of peas going around.” I like how easy it is to talk to her. “I’m Tuesday—”
“Tuesday?”
Nodding again, I reply, “I just discovered that my real name is Céline the other day.”
“Wow, that’s intense. What do you want me to call you?”
I wish I could be Tuesday with her, but I don’t know if she’ll even want to be a part of my new life. “You can call me C or Céline. Whatever you’re used to.”
“C will be a hard habit to break.” Her welcoming and warm demeanor gives me the reassurance I need to feel safe to stay. “Where did Tuesday come from?” Taking a few steps back, she sits in the chair close to me.
“Apparently, it’s the name I gave for my coffee order right before I was mugged outside the shop.”
“You never did anything without thought, so I’m curious where that name came from.”
I’m eating up the insight she’s sharing. “Me too, but I’m curious about everything.”
“Oh my God! I just realized you met Carter. How’d that go?” Her expression tightens, cringing, but she still laughs. I think it’s nervous laughter. “You didn’t know who he was, did you?”
“No.”
“I’m sure you put him in a tizzy.” Her eyes dawn as they set on me again. “You probably have a lot of questions. Ask me anything.”
“I have so many that I almost don’t know where to begin.”
“If it’s not too presumptuous, I could start telling you things.” She heads for the door. “How about we get something to drink first, and then I can give you a tour of your house while we chat about everything?”
“I’d love that.”
With the doorknob in hand, she says, “I’m just happy to have you back. If you can’t remember all the shitty things I’ve done to you, that’s just a bonus.”
“Is it as awful as what I’ve done?” I ask, following her into the hallway.
“Worse. Like I said, at least you had good reasons. I was just a bitch.”
“I’m sure you had your reasons as well, just like I did.”
“This amnesia thing might work out well for me.” Her laughter travels the hall and then she puts a finger to her lips as if I’m the one making all the noise. Okay, I like her a lot.
Looking around, she points down the opposite side of the hall from my room, and whispers, “Carter’s office is down that way. He started staying here when you disappeared, claiming to need to manage the property in your absence and ‘the long commute’ was problematic. Even though his family’s estate is less than twenty minutes down the road.”
“He cheated on me . . .” I grab the railing, not for physical support but because I may not love him now, but I probably did back then. I was marrying him, for Pete’s sake, so I must have.
Sympathy floods her complexion, turning it red. “That’s why you left?” Dropping her forehead into her palm, she says, “You didn’t tell me, but I should have known.”
It’s such a genuine reaction from a true friend that I’m feeling the same emotions as her. I take a breath and try to wrangle the thoughts it spurs in me. “How would you? I can only imagine the pain I felt, so speaking to anyone about it wouldn’t be easy.” I cover her hand that she’s gripping the railing with. “I don’t think it’s a loss. My gut tells me he’s awful.”
She nods. “There’s a reason you ran down that aisle and disappeared.”
“One of many, it seems.”
1 Quote from Swear on My Life by S.L. Scott
34
Tuesday
Over two glasses of Perrier and now pizza and wine, I’ve learned more than I had in the seven weeks prior.
