Page 75 of The Parkers' Handsome Holiday
“When?”
“When I tell her the truth.”
30
LINA
I stood at my bedroom window and watched Cal reverse out of the driveway. His headlights lit up the flurries of snow that were falling and thickening by the minute. They had started as nothing but tiny white specks and bloomed into full-blown orbs that stuck to the grass and pavement like glue. A lot of snow would be on the ground in the morning.
Once Cal was gone, I got into the already running shower. The bathroom was filling with steam that warmed my skin before the hot water even touched it.
My shower was refreshing after being on the plane that morning. Something about that recycled air made me feel oily and gross. Once I was showered, I felt like me again, whoever I was, and I returned to the bedroom to unpack. I tucked all my things neatly away before pulling my new purchases from the bookstore out of my carry-on.
I placed the books on my nightstand in place of the romance novels I’d already gone through and dropped the magazine on the bed.
I left my hair wrapped up in the thick navy towel Cal supplied and wrapped myself up in my fleece robe. Then I slid my feet into my slippers and sat down on the edge of the bed.
Something felt off.
Cal had been acting weird all morning. In fact, he’d been acting a little weird ever since Christmas Day. Something was on his mind, and I had a feeling we were growing closer to the time where he would be ready to tell me. I had come to the conclusion that it must be something about my memory. There was something I had to know—something he was afraid to tell me.
I couldn’t blame him. From his perspective, this situation had to be very odd and very tricky. He had a girl with memory loss living with his family. Although I apparently spent a lot of time here before the accident.
But that didn’t sit right with me anymore either. I saw no traces of me in this house. If I really was Asher’s nanny, shouldn’t there be things in this house that spoke to a woman living here? Or at least working full time here?
It just didn’t add up.
I leaned over and pulled my school file out of my purse. For the thousandth time, I stared down at it, at my high GPA and teacher recommendations. Everything in this file attested to the fact that I should not have been working as a nanny. I should have been off earning a ridiculous salary, living in a swanky New York penthouse apartment.
I tossed the file aside and sighed. “If only you could just remember.”
I wanted to scream. I wanted to rip my hair out. I wanted to slam my head into the wall in a desperate attempt to bash my memories back into place. But I knew it was all useless. It wouldn’t change a damn thing.
I got up and padded down the stairs to go make myself a cup of tea. I paused in the living room and looked around at all the shelves that I hadn’t paid too much attention to since arriving here before the holidays.
I walked along them, running my fingertips over the spines of books and over empty candle holders that I was sure Cal’s late wife used to keep lit with seasonal tealights. I stopped at a photo album that said “Family” on the spine in cursive font.
Feeling like a snoop, I pulled it off the shelf, went to the couch, and sat down. I perched it on my lap, with the top of the album resting on my knees, and flipped it open. The first blank white page made my heart hurt. It was three simple words on a blank white page:
Callum
Claire
Asher
I ran my fingers over it and flipped the first page. Each photo captured a frozen moment of Cal and Asher’s history. Almost every photo showed them laughing. The album was laid out beautifully, and I found myself wondering who had put it together. It must have been Claire. The pictures ended when she was no longer in them. Asher would have been around two. He was a dark-haired, blue-eyed little angel, happy in his mother and father’s embrace in every image, with no idea how much his life was going to change.
Claire was a beautiful woman. Stunning, really. She was very petite, with long black hair that she always seemed to wear down or partially pulled back from her face. Her cheeks were rosy, her smile big, and her eyes the darkest shade of brown I had ever seen.
Cal had probably sat and flipped through these photos thousands of times, missing her.
I swallowed and closed the album. The pictures weren’t for my eyes. They were private. They were Cal’s memories. I should be focusing on finding my own, not admiring someone else’s.
I put the album back exactly where I’d found it and returned to my bedroom, feeling a little bit guilty. I shouldn’t have poked around his home. It felt wrong.
I changed out of my robe into a pair of loose sweats and an oversized sweater. Then I collapsed on my bed and clasped my hands behind my head. When Cal came home, his headlights would light up my room, and I would go down to greet him. But for now, I would mind my own business and relax. He knew what he was doing, and whoever this person was that he was going to speak to might be able to help me. Like always, Cal was doing everything he could to help me remember.
Even though something felt off kilter, I was incredibly grateful for him.
