Page 664 of One More Kiss

Chapter5

I wishI had known those four little words would have such an impact. I would have chosen more wisely if I had.

The moment the last syllable has left my lips, Milo’s chest heaves in a distressing sigh. I’ve been so paranoid about not remembering him that I haven’t given any thought to how he’s doing.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologizes from where he stands, seemingly frozen in place. “I just… I didn’t know when you were going to wake up. I was so scared for a little bit that you wouldn’t. And then, you did. I rushed over here, and they told me you don’t remember me. I know amnesia is a real thing, but you just don’t ever expect it to happen to the woman you asked to marry you less than five days ago.”

“The doctor said the post-trauma memory loss is pretty common.” I shrug. “And that we should talk. Maybe being around each other will trigger some kind of magic memory-bringer-backer moment?”

At that, Milo lets out a laugh.

“Okay.” He nods, taking one of the chairs my parents had been sitting in, he pulls it to the side of my bed. “What do you want to talk about?”

I hold my hand out, thinking that touching him might incite some Disney movie moment. You know the one, where a kiss or teardrop brings someone back from death or a cursed fate. Maybe this is just my cursed fate. I try not to show how disappointed I am when I don’t get a flood of memories rushing back to me when he takes my hand.

If we’re going to start somewhere it might as well be the beginning.

“Tell me how we met,” I say.

“You were walking Endora,” he begins and immediately I stop him.

“Who is Endora?” I ask.

In response, he pulls brings his phone up. The screen is a lot bigger than I remember phones having, but apparently, I have a lot to catch up on, so I don’t stay too hung up on that for long. He smiles and turns his phone. On his lock screen is a photo of me and a chocolate lab. I look pretty much the same as I think I do now. I’d apparently learned how to tame the crazy curls that sat atop my head at some point and finally got my nose pierced like I always wanted. There’s a big tattoo of something I can’t quite make out on my shoulder, too.

“We were running on the same trail together. You stopped to tie your shoe, and Endora saw something in the woods. She took off on you just as I was turning the corner. Our first date was later that night when I brought you tacos and calamine lotion for the poison ivy that was all over your legs.”

“No wonder I love you.” I smile, getting more comfortable with my hand in his with every passing moment. “Tacos are—”

“The way to your heart,” he finished, grinning. “Those were your exact words the night we met. Listen, I know you’re probably exhausted, but I was thinking I could come back after I shower?” he asks. “I could show you more photos, tell you more stories, or we could just sit and watch Bewitched.”

The mention of Bewitched grabs my attention. It has been my comfort show for as long as I can remember thanks to spending summers with my Grandma Patty.

When I was little, my grandma on my dad’s side would babysit me during school vacations and on summer break while my parents worked. Once Lennon was born, my mom stayed home full-time, but I still spent as much time as I could with Grandma Patty. We had the best time together. She would take me to yard sales, and we would search for “treasure” as she would call it. We’d go seashell hunting at the beach, and she taught me how to make real lemonade.

The adventures were endless. But when I didn’t feel good, the world stopped, and we would lie on the couch and watch old, taped episodes of Bewitched in her VCR. It was her favorite show. Because Grandma Patty was my favorite, it became mine too.

“I know it’s your favorite show to watch when you don’t feel good,” Milo says. “I just thought that it might bring you some kind of normalcy in this craziness.”

“I would love that,” I tell him. “Bewitched. And if you came back.”

I don’t know if I’ll ever remember him, but good god, I hope so.

When my nurse returns to the room with a bowl of chicken broth a few minutes later, Milo pulls his hand from mine.

“I’ll be back in a little bit,” he says before standing up and leaving the room.

Once the door clicks shut, I turn to Jenny.

“What are the chances of me squeezing a shower in before he gets back?”

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