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Merrigan reached across the table and put her hand on mine. “Jaicon, I adore you.”
“Uh-oh.”
She laughed. “You do know there is more to life than your job, yes? I worry that since—”
I held up my hand. “I do know there’s more to life. However, I am here to work. As are you.” I sighed. “Besides, Tryst Avila is…not my type.”
Merrigan smirked. “How could he be? I mean, he’s suave, handsome, with a body that looks sculpted from marble. What else? He’s intelligent, enlightened, kind, generous, and owns a ten-thousand-acre ranch.”
“Twenty.”
She raised a brow.
“It was in the dossier.”
“That’s right, and with your photographic memory, you’d remember every word.”
I closed my eyes, reopening them slowly. “You know how I feel about that.”
Merrigan squeezed my fingers. “I do, and I apologize. I shouldn’t have made light of it.”
The truth was, my memory was far more a curse than a blessing. Some said there was no such thing as a photographic memory, but as a person who lived with the horrible affliction, I disputed the scientists who’d made such a proclamation.
The worst occurrences of my life played repeatedly inside my head—torturing me endlessly. There were good things too, of course, but crowded in with both were endless other things an ordinary person would never recall. Pointless bits of information, like the color and pattern of the tie my high-school boyfriend wore on our first date. I also remembered his shirt, jacket, and trousers, and one bit of hair on the right side of his head, near his temple, that stuck out. It had annoyed me then. More so now, simply because I never wanted to think of it again. Which was the worst part of it. Not being able to shut it off.
While I knew I wasn’t the only person plagued by things I didn’t want to remember, I was one of the few tormented by every conceivable recollection.
The absolute worst memory of all was of the day I lost my husband. I remembered every moment in vivid, excruciatingly painful detail.
“Here he comes now,” Merrigan murmured.
I looked up and saw Tryst walking toward us. I wasn’t sure what to make of his expression, except it was anything but playful or flirtatious. If I had to name it, I would’ve said troubled.
He nodded at Merrigan. “May I steal our Jaicon away for a moment?”
“By all means,” she said, waving her hand.
I looked between the two of them, annoyed that neither had asked me whether I wanted to be “stolen.”
“I promise not to keep you long,” Tryst said, holding his hand out to me.
When I stood without taking the assistance offered, his fingertips brushed the small of my back, then guided me away from the gathering of tables.
“What did you want to speak with me about?” I asked when he kept walking.
“It’s something I want you to see.”
He led me up a hillside and, when we reached the top, told me to turn around and look to the west.
“Wow.” I gasped at the breathtaking view of the setting sun just before it slipped into the sea.
“You have to time it just right to catch the magic.”
I kept watching even after all there was to see was an orange glow. “Thank you for bringing me here,” I said.
“You looked like you needed some magic.”
I smiled, gazing into his eyes. “I did, in fact.”
