Page 76 of The Parkers' Handsome Holiday
I was falling for him, too, and that scared the hell out of me. How could I fall in love with someone when I didn’t even know who I was? I had no clue what I wanted in life. What I already had. What I’d lost.
All of the unknown was maddening. And terrifying.
Laying in bed with just my thoughts was no way to pass the time, so I grabbed the magazine from where it lay across my comforter and flipped it open right to the middle.
I found myself staring at the same woman who stared back at me in the mirror every day.
I closed the magazine. My pulse beat in a panicky rhythm with such force, I could feel it at my throat, wrists, and fingertips. I rolled up off the bed, out of breath for no other reason than shock alone, and put my back to the closet as I stared at the magazine that lay upon my bed.
“What the hell?” I breathed.
Sweat had bloomed on my upper lip and the nape of my neck.
None of this made sense.
Why the fuck was I in a magazine spread? What had I been selling?
I shook my head. No, it couldn’t have been me. I must have made a mistake. Maybe it was just a girl who looked like me. After all, I’d just gotten used to my own reflection. It would be easy to make a mistake like that.
I went back to the bed and stared at the back of the magazine. I waited for my pulse to slow, but it didn’t.
“Remember,” I pleaded with myself.
Nothing. No memories surged to the surface. I was still just me, the girl who couldn’t remember a damn thing, and I was still staring down at the first real answer to cross my path. Staring down and doing nothing.
I growled at my own weakness and grabbed the magazine again. I flipped frantically through the pages until I found the one that had frightened me.
There was no doubt about it. That was me.
My name was written in the bottom corner. It was an eyeliner ad.
Eyeliner.
“What’s happening?” I half-whispered, half-moaned. My brain was spinning a mile a minute, trying to find something concrete to latch onto, but there was nothing. Nothing.
And then my reeling mind found something to focus on.
Cal.
He’d been lying to me this whole time.
I wasn’t a nanny. I was a model and, apparently, a fairly successful one.
I closed the magazine and my eyes, and I blew out a slow breath through my nose. I had to calm down. Getting worked up and spiraling out of control in a blind rage wasn’t going to help me.
But a computer would.
I marched downstairs, the magazine clutched in my right hand, and went into Cal’s home office, where I moved the mouse to wake up the screen. Luckily, it wasn’t protected with a password, and I was able to open the web browser without any roadblocks.
I typed in my name.
“Lina Nelson,” I said aloud as I typed.
My finger hovered over the Enter button. Why I hadn’t thought to search for myself online, I had no idea. It should have been the first thing I did, but I wouldn’t have known I was famous. I wouldn’t have known I’d have an online presence.
I pressed the button, and images of me flooded the screen.
Me drinking energy drinks. Me laughing in a bathing suit, holding a bottle of sunscreen. Me in a sparkly dress at what appeared to be a New Year’s party, holding a bottle of liquor. Me in a wedding dress, showing off flashy earrings.
