Unforgettable

“Then don’t think them.”

To her surprise, he leaned over, curled his hand around her nape and massaged lightly, threading his fingers through her thick hair. It was tempting to close her eyes and lean her head all the way back but then they’d have a wreck and never get off this damn interstate.

“I’m nervous, Rafael,” she admitted.

She bit her lip, wondering if she shouldn’t just shut up, but she’d always had this habit of being completely honest. It wasn’t in her makeup to shy away from the bald truth, no matter how uncomfortable. She always figured if people talked more about their issues then there wouldn’t be so many issues.

Rafael—the old Rafael—hadn’t minded her speaking her mind. They’d enjoyed long conversations and she’d always told him what was occupying her thoughts.

But now, she had a newfound reservation against being so forthright. She hated feeling so unsure of herself.

“Why are you nervous?” he asked softly.

“You. Me. Us. What if this doesn’t work? I feel like this is my only chance and that if you don’t remember, I’ve lost you.”

“Regardless of whether I regain my memory, we still have a child to think about. I’m not going to disappear just because I can’t remember the details of his conception.”

“You sound like you’ve accepted that I’m carrying your child.”

He shrugged. “I’ve embraced the very real possibility. Until I’m proven wrong, I choose to think of it as my child.”

Her heart did a little squeeze in her chest. “Thank you for that. For now it’s enough. Until we figure out everything else, it’s enough that you accept our baby.”

“And you.”

She turned to glance quickly at him before returning her gaze to the highway.

He lowered his hand from her neck to cover her hand that rested on his leg. “There is definitely something between us. If I accept that we made a child together, surely I have to accept that we were lovers, that you meant something to me?”

“I hope I did,” she said softly.

“Tell me, Bryony, do you still love me?”

There was a note of raw curiosity in his voice. Almost as if he wasn’t sure how he wanted her to answer.

“That’s unfair,” she said in a low voice. “You can’t expect me to lay everything out when there’s a real possibility we’ll never be what we once were to each other. You can’t expect me to admit to loving a man who thinks of me as a complete stranger.”

“Not a stranger,” he corrected. “I’ve already admitted that it’s obvious we were something to each other.”

“Something. Not everything,” she said painfully. “Don’t ask me, Rafael. Not until you remember me. Ask me then.”

He reached up to touch her cheek. “All right. I’ll ask you then.”

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