“I was going to call you and tell you that I—“
“She’s married.” I interrupted Lana before she had a chance to say another word.
I let the huge pause hang in the air as I waited for her to come to terms with that information.
“Married?”
“Yeah.” In an odd sort of way, I had hoped Lana might have known so she would have more information. Although if she had known that before, it might have helped in the search.
“She mentioned a husband when I saw her today, but—”
“You saw her today?” I guess I wasn’t the only one who hadn’t jumped to make a phone call. Odd that I’d get upset with her, but she wasn’t concerned that I hadn’t called her immediately.
“Yeah, I bumped into her but then Kyle was holding up traffic and I had to run over to him. I…I saw the stitches. I should have asked more. But thinking back it’s kind of making sense with that date she had.”
“What? Do you remember something?”
“Umm. Well, sort of. I mean, this guy came to pick her up for a date and well, I thought it was an ex-boyfriend. She talked about him as if he were an ex, so I don’t get it.”
“Lana, she has amnesia.”
“What? Oh my God! How? I mean, I saw her forehead, but…shit.”
“Lana, do you remember anything else about her ex?”
“No, but when I ran into her she mentioned a husband, and I wanted to ask her more about it but Kyle kept honking the horn. He was holding up traffic.” She inhaled a deep, shaky breath. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry, Cal. I should have asked more about what she was talking about.”
“It’s fine, Lana. We’ll figure this out somehow. But now that we know this guy is her husband, I should be able to find something online about her marriage, at least.”
“Okay. That’s so weird. Amnesia. I’ve never known anyone to have it—only in the movies. Ya know?”
I nodded even though she couldn’t see me. “Lana, I don’t think she knows about her apartment, either.”
“How are we going to find her now?”
“By chance, did she mention her husband’s name? I think she told me, but I can’t remember what it was.”
“Oh! She did! She said Jay or John. John, that was the name she told me.”
I nodded my head as I walked over to my door. Picking up my backpack, I pulled out my laptop. “I think I can still search marriage records from her name, can’t I?”
“Hmm. I’m not sure. I’ve never really tried to search for something like that.” I heard a sound in the background and muffled noises following. “Hey. Kyle just got here. I’ll see if he can do some digging too. Not sure if he can do anything down here, but it’s worth a shot.” Kyle was a detective up in New York City, and when I’d talked to Lana last, she’d told me she would ask him for help searching for Andi when he arrived the day before. Better late than never, I guess.
“Sounds good. Tell him I said hi and we’ll talk soon.” We said our goodbyes, and after hanging up I flipped open my laptop.
With a couple of cracks to my knuckles, I started my search to find out who the hell Andi’s husband really was.
Eleven
Andi
The navy linen table cloth mocked me. There was a memory here and I knew it, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I couldn't grasp whatever thought was there. The chandelier, the large impressive ceiling with its art décor, the wait staff with the familiar uniform—I knew they looked like all the other elegant restaurants, but for some reason the red rose each of the staff had pinned to their lapels taunted me.
John and I were trying to make it work. Or at least I was, since he didn’t seem to know about my affair with Cal.
John had seemed distant after we had first returned from the hospital. Now, he was being attentive and loving toward me. He seemed to be running hot and cold, and I couldn’t tell where I really stood with him. Maybe I was noticing the difference more because of all the guilt I was harboring. Guilt. I was swimming in it, and every time I looked at John, I was drowning.
"Are you all right, Andrea?"
The moment his hand touched mine, I flinched for some reason. It wasn't on purpose. It was as if my body knew to react automatically. Had this been the reason we’d had marital problems? Had we even had marital problems? Or was I the problem? Why was I reacting to him that way? He'd been nothing but kind to me, patient—although at times annoyed he'd had to answer the simplest questions.
"Yes...no.” I shook my head as my eyes darted around the room. “No, there's something about this restaurant. Have we been here before?" My heart thumped inside my chest, and I couldn't control my hands from shaking. What was wrong with me? "Has something happened here before?"
The corner of his mouth turned up ever so slightly and I thought it odd that it didn’t seem like a smile or a sweet reminiscent reaction. It almost seemed smug. Goose bumps ran up my arms and I ran my hands along them, trying to chase them away.
”You've been here many times. It's your favorite restaurant. I was hoping that bringing you here would remind you of something," he prodded. His voice was cautious. "What do you remember?" He seemed to ask the question as if not really wanting to know the answer.
I shook my head. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't remember being there before. But I felt it. There was a certain vibe in the room that bothered me. Something seemed off.
I reached for my water glass, trying my best to stop the shaking of my hand. Bringing the glass to my lips, I attempted to steady it so as not to spill water down the front of my dress. The rim of the cold glass touching my lips helped. The refreshing water against my tongue snapped me out of the odd responses I was having to my surroundings.
"Are you ready to order?" the waiter asked, and seemed to appear out of nowhere—although since I had been trying to calm myself, I was sure more than a few moments had passed. Glancing between my husband and the waiter, it was clear they were on the verge of being annoyed at having to wait for my answer.
"I...I'm not sure what's good here. John, could you please order for me?"
He pressed his lips into a small smile. "She'll have the lobster bisque and I'll have the London broil."
"I guess I'm not allergic to shellfish," I said right after the waiter had left.
"No. You're not." His mouth was in a tight thin line, which only added to my insecurity.
Despite the inner feelings I was fighting and the flashbacks of my accident I’d had earlier, I wanted it to be a nice evening. John obviously wanted to take me out to a nice place, driving my new beautiful car, and I wanted to make the most of it. For John.
When he’d come to my door earlier that night, it was as if we were just beginning to date. I thought he may have even liked it a little too. The moment I opened my bedroom door, he had this certain look in his eyes. Adoration. He had touched my hair, as if reminiscing, and mentioned how he liked my hair natural. I’d left it in curls and wasn’t sure if I should, but for some reason the way Cal had mentioned it earlier that day, I thought that maybe wearing my hair straight wasn’t who I really was.
Regardless, it was obvious John liked it. It brought that spark to his eyes that relaxed me and even helped me forget my adultery for a short moment. He had reached up and tenderly pulled a stray curl away from my neck. His hand had slid around my neck, cupping my cheek, and the touch of his hand that time had brought a wave of excitement through me. I’d pressed my cheek into his hand, enjoying his touch for once. He had leaned in and placed his lips on mine and a jolt of thrill shot through me. They were warm and soft, and when he kissed me, a swarm of caring feelings swept over me. The memory of his lips seemed like it returned to me in that instant. It was knowing I had enjoyed his touch and the feel of him against me that helped ease some of my previous doubts I had about him. I’d never know what would have happened after that because the doorbell rang. He’d pulled back and smiled against my lips. Our eyes held briefly, and his danced with something I
hadn’t seen before. Or maybe I had but it was tucked in that vault I’d been trying to open.
“It’s only a start, Andrea,” he had said. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but I’m really trying. I thought we’d start by dating again.” He seemed timid, and the fact that he was trying so hard was endearing. “Maybe if we go back to the beginning, it might bring back some memories. This actually might be good for both of us,” he said.
With that new memory so fresh in my mind, sitting there at that table in that place seemed the total opposite of what he was trying to accomplish. But as he’d said, he was trying. And even though the feel of the restaurant haunted me in some way, I was going to push that aside so we could both start anew.
I crossed my arms and leaned in on the table, evening my breath and remembering how our night had started out. I was about to ask about our first apartment together when he nervously put his hand into his pocket.
That was the moment he pulled out a box and set it on the table. His fingers lingered on top of it as all the air in the room seemed to dissipate.
The red box trimmed with silver around the middle beckoned me to open it. My guilt stopped me. It was obvious it would be new and expensive, and for some strange reason that left a bad taste in my mouth. When I glanced to his eyes, it was even more apparent how excited he was to give it to me by the gleam in them.
"What's this?" I went ahead and asked. I wanted to show some excitement but knew I completely lacked any emotion in my voice.
"Something you've been searching for."
My eyes flicked to his, and he smiled while my stomach fluttered. My teeth grazed my bottom lip, excitement blooming within me as I stared at the box again. With that clue I was hopeful it was my original set of rings. I had seen them in the photograph, and for some reason I had needed to have them back, as if they might help me remember something about my past—at least my marriage. I reached out, my hand hovering over the box, unsure of what it might contain but hopeful it would open that door to my memories.
"Go ahead," he urged.
As I took the box in my hand, I ran the pad of my thumb along the smooth satin, feeling the weight of the box. I swallowed as I pressed a tiny silver button which lay in the middle of the band that wrapped around the box. Immediately the top popped open and a sparkling new princess diamond set in platinum gleamed from the lights that hung above us. It was nothing like the emerald cut with tiny sapphires surrounding it I had seen in the picture. I tried not to slump despite the way my stomach dropped.
"You don't like it?"
Obviously I hadn’t hidden my disappointment very well. "Oh, I do!” I rushed. “I do. Thank you, it's gorgeous." I forced a smile. I had always imagined that when I finally held my wedding rings it would be like some magic door to all my memories. They would come rolling at me like some giant wave, and all of my past would be restored. Instead, staring at this beautiful diamond and extremely expensive new set, I was being crushed over rocks on the shore.
“We haven’t been able to find your original rings. I thought maybe we'd start over again with new ones. Something different instead of the old set you had."
I nodded, understanding his reasoning. I pressed a smile as I forced down the tears that threatened.
"They’re lovely. Thank you." Pulling the rings from the box, I quickly put them on before I could change my mind. The weight of them on my finger was uncomfortable. Or was that because I was?
Peering up at John, I saw that he was beaming. This meant something huge to him, and looking back he had seemed even a little apprehensive.
“Were you nervous when you first proposed to me?” Anyone could tell me the stories of my past, but if they were told without emotions, they were merely words.
John’s eyes lit up, and with that, my heart did too. Excitement shone in his eyes and it made me smile.
“I was so nervous. I paced outside your house for what felt like forever. Your dad, he opened the door and told me to come inside.” John’s eyes lost that spark for a moment before he continued. Had my dad said something to him? “After a short pep talk from your father, he called you down.” The spark returned and the anticipation of his story had me waiting for his next words. “You came down the stairs.” He laughed. “Timid. You were so timid. We were like two kids on a first date. But your hair, Andrea. You had straightened it for the first time, and I’d never seen it like that. You looked so beautiful, and for some reason you looked older to me.” He chuckled before continuing. “I felt like some klutzy high school guy going out with a college woman.” He placed his hand on mine, his touch strong as if he needed me to understand how he felt. “You wore this blue dress that had a slit in it that only gave me a peek at your thigh when you took each step. I think your dad even growled at some point in time—especially when I couldn’t keep my eyes off your cleavage. He wasn’t too happy.” We both laughed at that, and I was so elated to have so much feeling from this man. This was his memory that he seemed to enjoy telling. Had he ever told me before how he had felt that night?
“I took you to a place like this. So when we moved here, we always came here to celebrate our anniversary.” He looked down for a moment. "It's your favorite place. Or at least it used to be." I noticed he pressed a smile. Was he hoping I would remember? Instead I had gone on about how odd the place felt. My mouth went dry thinking back to all I had said only moments ago. I wished I had kept my mouth shut.
Realization hit me hard as my stomach dropped along with my jaw. We were here to celebrate something. What it was, I wasn’t sure of, but why wouldn’t he have told me or reminded me, at least?
“Did you bring me here because it’s—“
As my eyes flicked to John while I asked my question, his face paled and all expression left his face. I followed his gaze to the couple now standing at our table. And I couldn’t explain why, but I felt the same way John looked.
I recognized her immediately as one of the women from the wedding photos on our mantle, even though she had aged several years, she wore layers of makeup, and the spark in her eyes was missing. She also didn't have that genuine smile she had in the pictures. Scarlet lipstick covered her tightly pressed lips and her blonde hair barely moved as her eyes danced between John and me. Standing next to her was an older gentleman. Judging from the lines around his eyes and mouth, I would have easily placed him as her father.
John stood, nervous energy emitting from him, and the way his eyes flicked back and forth between the two immediately put me on guard. He should have warned me this couple would be there, or at least told me anything about our supposed friends. Or foes, since I still questioned who these two were.
"Andrea." The woman’s lips pressed harder, which I hadn’t thought possible. Before I realized it she walked toward me, her arms stretching out to give me a hug. Confused, I jumped up, knocking my napkin to the floor and moving my chair not as far out as I would have liked. Pinned between the table and chair, I reached over for an awkward hug. My mind was a whirlwind, still trying to catch up to who she actually was. Her arms barely touched me as she reached over and air-kissed me on each cheek.
With my eyes I begged John to help me out and let me know who the woman was. She pulled back too soon, before I had a chance to catch John’s eyes for the information. Her smile dropped and she glanced back and forth between John and me.
The woman held me firm with her hands on my shoulders. Her mouth formed a perfect O. "John said you had amnesia. I thought that only happened in movies." She made a small smile, as if she were trying to make a joke.
"No. I'm so sorry. I..."
"Well, that's…so sad." A fake laugh added in there made me glance down at the table. The silverware had my attention all of a sudden, while the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. Was it my imagination that she was adding her little extra quirks on purpose to try to make me feel uncomfortable? ”You'd think your best friend would spark some memories."
I glanced to John, hop
ing for him to rescue me. Instead I watched him roll his eyes, exasperated by her lack of understanding. "Mallory. She didn’t even remember her own husband."
My expression fell as my eyes flew back to Mallory. My stomach dropped and I tried to think of how hurt I’d feel if my best friend forgot who I was. “I’m so sorry,” I told her as I turned back to her.
Her lips pouted in an overdramatic sort of way and then she squeezed my arm. “Andrea, me too. I’m sure it’s been so difficult trying to remember things. Have you forgotten…everything?” She looked back to John, and I noticed his eyes quickly averted from hers.
“Everything. I’ve been trying, but nothing has really come back to me.”
The older man reached over, sidestepping Mallory, and hugged me tight as he cooed, “Aww. We've all been friends for years." He stood back and introduced himself. His silver hair didn’t move, and his hazel eyes offered me a little comfort as he attempted to make up for the woman’s lack of understanding. "I'm Senator Ramone. Mallory and I have been together for a while now.” His voice commanded authority like a college professor. He cupped my hand in his and patted it as he nodded his head, offering a small smile. “You can call me Phil.” One hand left mine to gesture to the woman who was now eyeing John with a smug expression. “And this is Mallory. You two have been friends for years. She was in your wedding."
My face fell as I turned back to the woman. "I'm so sorry. I..."
She waved me away. "No big deal. I'm sure it's been tough for you, trying to remember everything."
My eyes flicked to John’s as my cheeks flushed. Where it came from, I wasn’t sure, but immediately my body tensed as I glared between John and Mallory. The flash of anger shot through me and I quickly shoved it aside.
“Hopefully it'll all come back to you soon." Phil rubbed my arm quickly before taking a seat next to John.
“I hope we’re not imposing?” Mallory’s smug smile and the glint in her eyes made my stomach churn, and I was sure it wasn’t because of the pregnancy. With all those little looks and the horrible feelings that seemed to keep wrestling inside me, I was positive we hadn’t had the best friendship.
Accidents Happen (Forever Happens Book 1) Page 7