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“That part’s even worse, if that’s possible.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Definitely possible. Definitely worse.”
“I told them I didn’t,” I said. “I told them you weren’t trying to take the little girl anywhere. That she seemed perfectly safe and content. I told them she wasn’t in any danger. And I gave them your weasel.”
“And that was the end of our first meeting,” she said.
The music swelled, practically blaring. We were too close to the stage.
I felt the weight of someone watching us. I scanned the crowd and spotted a security officer, with narrowed eyes aimed at Morgan. She spoke into a walkie, then pursed her lips with distaste.
“I think she remembers, too.” I nodded to the officer.
Morgan forced a smile and waved at the officer.
“I think we should probably go.” She took my hand and pulled me away from the stage.
We ran and ran, our legs pumping with purpose, our fingers entwined. At the edge of the carnival, we stopped behind a classic red and white striped tent.
Morgan turned her face to the sky and dropped her hands to her thighs, bending over to catch her breath. We both chuckled softly, sharing a moment of elation after together we’d restored one of my memories. We really were a team, Morgan and me.
She stood and brushed her shoulder against my arm.
I stepped in front of her.
She leaned against my chest, and looked deep into my eyes. I could feel her heart racing as fast as mine, sharing a joyful beat. She wrapped her arms around my neck and lifted herself so her lips hovered an inch from mine.
Miso darted out of Morgan’s pajamas, and landed on my face.
TWENTY-ONE
MORGAN
I was horrified. We’d almost kissed. Miso had mauled him again, butwe’d almost kissed.Twice.
“Ohmygosh, are you all right?” I pushed Miso back down into her sling, not sure if I should thank her or curse her for breaking the moment. My lapse in judgment had to be the adrenaline from running, and before that the thrill of unlocking Tristan’s memory. All of the excitement had caused the perfect storm of endorphins to overrule reason.
“I’m fine.”
“Cool, great. That’s great.” I faked a yawn. “It’s getting super late. I should probably go to sleep. You’re ready to sleep, right?”
“Sure, Morgan.”
His tone didn’t let on any emotion—disappointment or otherwise. But I knew he felt it. He had to, because I sure as heck did. My chest grew tighter and tighter by the second. My entire body ached with need. A cold shiver overtook the pleasant heat of where our bodies had met in a delicious crush.
This night had to be over though, because I’d almost made a terrible mistake. No men—that was my plan. And here I was living with a super-hot one, and I was apparently trying to freaking kiss him. Twice. Self-sabotage much?
Sure, Tristan was gorgeous and I enjoyed spending time with him, but what happened when everything went wrong? It’s not like we could go our separate ways. He didn’t know who he was. And no matter how sure he said he was that he wasn’t married, he didn’t even know his last name, so could he really be all that certain?
It could be worse than Brent.
I was supposed to be taking care of Tristan, not taking advantage. Kissing him would ruin everything.
We headed back to the hotel in silence, then got ready for bed. My heart ached and my nerves felt raw. I lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling. He lay on the floor, doing the same. It took way too long to fall asleep.
* * *
Tristan was gonewhen I woke up the next morning, presumably to continue his investigation at the library, and I was grateful. No awkward breakfasts avoiding talking about the almost kiss—perfect.
I checked my phone as I got myself ready. There was a missed call from my dad.
