Page 48 of Make You Love Me
Mind telling me what’s going on?” Avery asks after we’re on the road.
“Nora and I broke up.”
“I know. Last summer.”
I turn to her, ignoring the stings rippling through my thigh. “Last summer?”
“Jordan, I know you’ve been through something awful, but what’s—”
“I lost some of my memory in the crash.”
“Oh.” She keeps her eyes focused on the road, her knuckles turning white around the steering wheel. “You remembered your breakup today, didn’t you?”
My silence is enough to fill her in.
“I’m sorry, Jordan. That sucks.”
“Thanks.” A weary chuckle escapes. I’m grateful she isn’t trying to placate or pity me. “You don’t know the half of it.”
“How about we have lunch, and you can tell me all about it? Or,” she backtracks when I sigh out my hesitation, “we can eat insilence. Whichever works for you, but I can see you need a break from it all.”
“You are a smart one. Who knew?”
She glares at me over her shoulder before laughing. The carefree sound is intoxicating and a far cry from what I expect to encounter when I’m forced to face Nora again.
She glances my way again. “Do you have someone to talk to at home? Who’s staying with you?”
“Nora.”
“Ouch. But why would she—”
“Fake girlfriend in-home care set up by my sister. She’s been pretending we’re still together since I left the hospital. I was blissfully happy for all of one week.”
She pulls into a parking lot, and I don’t bother to check which restaurant she picked. All I need is cold beer, hot food, and someone on my side.
“Well, it’s a good thing you found out now and not a month from now,” she says to offer consolation, even if it is a weak and embarrassing one.
“I guess.”
After getting me in the wheelchair, over the sidewalk, and up the entry ramp, we soon settle at a table in the corner by the front windows. The natural light, Avery suggests, will help my grumpiness.
“Funny.”
The waiter soon stops by, and we both order a beer, burger, and fries. Hers with bacon and cheese. Mine with barbeque sauce.
“Seems like our debate earlier was a bit pointless,” she says after we’re alone.
“What do you mean?”
“You argued that steak was better with beer, yet here you are ordering a burger at the first opportunity. That must mean I won the argument.”
“No. That means eating a burger is easier than steak when you have only one hand.” I wave my right hand for emphasis.
“Sure. Great excuse, but I’m still taking the win.”
“Whatever.” A smile tickles my lips as she sits back and crosses her arms with finality.
“So, tell me. How in the world did Nora become in charge of your care?”
