Page 19 of Love You, Mean It

“Are you hungry?” I said, shaking the paper bag I’d brought with me. “I stopped at Dottie’s.”

A surprised smile spread over Theo’s face as he pulled the still steaming egg-and-pepper-jack croissant sandwich out of its foilwrapper, a smear of the brown mustard Bella had somehow remembered he topped it with oozing out the side.

“How’d you—” He stopped, then rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. “Right.Fiancée. Of course you know my order. Though Dottie’s goes best with…”

“Hot coffee? Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” I picked up the cardboard tray that was the second half of my weak attempt at a bribe and passed it to him. He plucked out a cup and took a long, grateful swig, then pulled the top off the other, dumped in three of the sugar packets I’d thrown into the tray, and swirled it before handing it over to me. I took a fortifying sip. I wasn’t really holding out hope that his favorite breakfast sandwich would be enough to smooth over the steaming pile of betrayal I was about to heap onto his hospital tray, but at the very least I should have my wits about me.

“Thanks again for picking me up. I know it shouldn’t seem like a big deal—we’re engaged, you’d have to have a pretty solid excusenotto show up at my hospital bedside. Call it a side benefit of the amnesia, I’m way more appreciative of the little things right now.” Theo flashed a mischievous smirk.

“Totally,” I said, trying to smile through the rollercoaster stomach drop. “But there’s actually something we should talk about. About us, I mean.”

“If you’re going to suggest eloping, the answer’s yes.”

“Not exactly.” I gulped, nauseated, as saliva flooded my mouth. “The thing is—”

The door swung open and a middle-aged doctor shuffled in, thick-framed glasses trained on the chart in his hand.

“Theo Taylor? How are we feeling today?” The doctor smiled absently at Theo, then at me, before moving to Theo’s bedside and lifting his wrist to take a pulse. “This is the fiancée, I’m guessing?”

“The one and only.”

“Beautifulandthoughtful. Contraband food is a sign of true love as far as I’m concerned.” The doctor dropped Theo’s hand, noting something on his chart. “You’re a very lucky man, Theo.”

“Trust me, I know. Even if I don’t remember all the reasons why, yet.” Theo turned a painfully loving gaze my way, the deep blue eyes I was used to seeing in storm-on-the-ocean mode morphing into a gentle visual caress. I gulped more coffee to cover my queasy expression, focusing on the pain of the sweet-bitter liquid burning my esophagus. Maybe if I endured an actual physical injury, the conversation would somehow be less bad? Karmashouldwork that way.

“Alright, everything looks good on my end. If your memory isn’t back within the next few days, you need to call us.”

“Iknow,” Theo said in a teenage groan. “Trust me, the nursing staff has been very clear on that point.”

“They’ve also been very clear withmethat I should deputize your fiancée on this in case you decide that you know better than the entire medical profession. Ellie, if there’s no change and he’s too stubborn to call, please reach out.”

“Of course.” I nodded so fast something in my neck twinged. The coffee churned in my stomach.

“In that case…good luck, you two. Hopefully I won’t be seeing you soon.”

With that, the doctor rushed out. Theo stood, wincing slightly and reaching for his head, then started gathering his things, moving with exaggerated care.

“Theo, we really should talk,” I said, heart crawling up my throat. Here goes everything.

“Can it wait until we’re in the car? I hate hospitals, and I’m afraid if we don’t leave now, they’ll force me to stay another night.”

“Sure,” I said weakly. That, at least, I understood. We made our way downstairs and across the parking lot.

“Is this…my car?” Theo frowned as I slid into the driver’s seat.

“No, it’s mine.” I placed my phone in the holder, nudging it so it wouldn’t spring loose.

“Good. I was worried.” He grimaced as he took in the interior of my Camry.

“Why?” Sure, it was a few years old—okay, close to ten—and it wasn’t the luxury model, but it was perfectly serviceable.

“Because this wouldnotmake a good impression on clients.”

“Luckily, deli shoppers are a little more forgiving on that front.”

“So that’s what you do? Work at a deli?” He looked at me with polite interest.

“Yes, I run my family’s deli. Technically my grandparents own it, but I took over.”

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