Page 57 of Promise Me

“Okay, I have, why do I own the bakery? Why do I still live with my dad? Did I date anyone in the last few years? Who is my best friend now, and where are they? What are my hobbies now?And why was I at the bakery that afternoon? Maybe if I knew what I was doing, it would bring something back.”

A lump forms in my throat. I have no way to prove it, but I think she was there because of me.

An ache hits my chest.

Do I tell her that? How much do I share with her? My gut tells me that she’d want to know everything and anything that would help her remember even the slightest detail at this point, but my heart says to wait until I know for sure.

I clear my throat and nod to the kitchen. “Have you baked anything since you woke up in the hospital?”

She shakes her head and looks down as if she’s ashamed to admit it.

“Maybe start there.”

She looks up, her gaze landing on me for a fleeting moment before she stares at the kitchen door.

“I used to bake with my mom, but it was just for fun. It wasn’t ever something I would want to make into a career, or so I thought. Jeez, listen to me. I’m like a broken record. You know all this.”

“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself. Maybe if you bake something that your mom and you did together, something will come back. Who knows—maybe you kept this place going as a way to stay close to her.”

I look around at all the tables she has and the pictures from over the years and then to the glass hutch where she usually keeps the day’s freshest baked goods. It’s weird to look at it this way. Empty.

After a minute passes, I return my focus to Sadie, who is just watching me.

“What?” I ask.

Her gaze narrows. “I’m just trying to figure out how I missed all this.”

“Missed what?”

“You. Moments like just now make me feel like I never really knew you.”

I shrug. “Maybe you didn’t.”

She nods slowly and moves to the kitchen.

“I think I'll take your advice. My mom’s favorite thing to make were lemon bars. I have her recipe memorized, and they are melt-in-your-mouth amazing.”

I try to keep my expression neutral. It’s hard.

The ache in my chest returns.

“I’ll let you get to it, then.” I turn to the door, ready to get some fresh air.

Is this all really a good idea?

What happens when she remembers why she was here?

What if I was, in fact, the reason?

My hand is on the door handle when she stops me.

“Do you want to bake with me?”

I freeze, then slowly turn and rub the back of my neck.

“I’m, uh…”

She waves a hand in front of her face. “I’m sorry. Ignore me. Just because my life is weird right now doesn’t mean you should abandon yours. I’ll see you later.”

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