Deja Vu: A Romantic Comedy

by Sosie Frost

  Hopefully.

  I lifted her close, holding her against my shoulder and wrapping her into a tight, can’t-drop-the-baby hold. I grimaced as I pushed myself up.

  “Oh, that tugs on the stitches...”

  Those had surprised me more than the kiddo…as did the need for the little squirt bottle the nurses sent home with me.

  I steadied myself with a breath and kept the baby on my shoulder. Her little swirl of dark hair was close enough to kiss. I gave her one. She seemed to like that.

  “I suppose you’re hungry.” I patted her back. “This should be…interesting.”

  The furnished apartment had come with everything I needed—a place to sleep, furniture, a kitchen loaded with healthy mommy snacks. The charity had also stacked it with the right amount of literature—lots and lots of breastfeeding pamphlets with so many illustrated tips and tricks that my coffee table looked like a Playboy centerfold spread.

  I wished I had a Nipples for Dummies book though.

  “Step one. Have breasts.” I tip-toed to the couch. “We’re good there. Thanks to you, Clue, I’m ninety percent boob.”

  She enjoyed this fact. And I had to agree—the lovelies were rather convenient so far. Unfortunately, a knock at the door interrupted me before I could tame the ta-tas.

  Maybe I was a far more optimistic person than I thought. The knock might have been my husband or family coming to get me.

  That hope gave me the courage to shuffle with the baby toward the door.

  But I wasn’t coordinated or confident enough to figure out how to hold her one handed. I leaned back, balancing her on my chest with a cautious and steadying arm under her butt.

  “Just a minute!” I called.

  Moment of truth.

  In a blazing rush, I unlocked the door and swung it wide, returning both hands to the baby with a squeal. Doctor Owens watched the circus from the hall. She frowned, shrugged, and offered her help.

  She’d exchanged her white coat for a diaper bag and box of onesies. Her smile grew as she got a good look at Clue.

  “Howdy, neighbor.” She glanced around the apartment. “Are you enjoying your new home?”

  I welcomed her inside, relieved that she shut the door for me. “Doctor Owens—”

  “Call me Rory.”

  “I can’t thank you enough, Rory.”

  Rory dropped the box of hand-me-down baby clothes on my dining room table and surveyed the apartment. “I hope you like this place. It was the best we could do on short notice.”

  “Only two bedrooms…” I teased her. “If I spontaneously birth another baby, we might be a little cramped.”

  “I’ll buy you a house just for the chance to publish that medical case,” Rory said. “Though believe me—your amnesia? That’s a career-maker there.”

  “I’m glad to be of service.”

  “That brain of yours will definitely score me a trip to the Hawaiian conference this year.” Rory grinned. “If you let me present it, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you happy.”

  Clue hiccupped. I mentally set a timer. Ten minutes until she had a hunger meltdown.

  “Well, this apartment is amazing,” I said. “I…can’t even begin to express how grateful I am.”

  “You popped into the hospital at the right time. The Ironfield Rivets are pushing Lachlan Reed’s Family First charity. He founded it specifically to help single-parent families. When the team heard about you? Well, let’s just say…we were all invested.” She gave me a wink. “And since your doctor just happens to be married to a coach and sits on the foundation’s board…”

  “If it’s any help, I do think I was a Rivets’ fan before the accident.”

  “Really?”

  “Lots of good looking guys on the team.”

  “You have no idea.” She set the diaper bag down. “I just wanted to check in and make sure the charity got you settled. You and the baby should have everything you need. We signed you up for a cell phone, and you should be getting a prepaid debit card within a day or so. The charity will refill it every month with a stipend, plus we have an administrator who will help you set up some additional programs for you and the baby. We’ll have diapers delivered to you—”

  “Rory, this is too much—”

  She held a hand up. “I don’t want to hear it. You will have enough to worry about with the baby and your health and finding your family. Let us handle this part.”

  “I don’t know much about myself,” I said. “But I don’t like feeling helpless.”

  “You’re a new mother now—that’s how it feels all the time. Panicky and exhausting.” Rory smiled. “My daughter is six months old. Believe me. It’s hard, but there’s no love like it.”

  I had plenty of confusion, fear, and hesitance. I needed a little love.

  “At least the baby’s with you,” Rory said. “You won’t be alone through this.”

  “Yeah, she’s good company. A regular party animal. She said she’ll make sangria a little later while we assemble her bedroom furniture.”

  Rory groaned. “They didn’t build it for you?”

  The boxes were stacked on the far side of the living room. I hadn’t had time to look through it all.

  “I’m just glad to have it,” I said.

  Rory checked her phone. “My husband can help. He’ll be back from practice in an hour or so. I’ll have him bring some of the guys with him.”

  “No, really. I don’t need an entire offensive line to put together some furniture. Besides…” I would have shown her my shaking hands, but they were clutching the baby. “I can’t just sit around waiting to be healed. I have to do something.”

  “Sleep.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

  Rory laughed—a maniacal, maternal, knowing laugh. “Suit yourself. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “I just got hit by a truck. How hard can a baby be?”

  “I put my number in your phone already. Call me the instant you regret that statement.” She checked her watch. “I expect to hear from you in two hours.”

  “That soon?”

  She merely chuckled. “And I want you to call me if you develop any complications from the concussion. Dizziness or nausea or headaches.”

  “Thanks, Doc.”

  “Now feed that baby. She’s rooting.”

  “Rooting for who?”

  “Better be the Rivets.”

  Rory wished me luck—a supportive sort of encouragement that seemed to double as a warning. She sounded just like the nurses at the hospital. Oddly enough, they hadn’t worried about a woman with no memory taking her baby home. They sympathized with the single mother raising the child alone.

  Good thing it’d only be a matter of days—maybe hours—before we found my family.

  Rory promised to check in on me, and I locked the door behind her.

  The next stage of my master amnesia plan: Feeding the baby so I could settle her butt down just so I could build her a place to set said butt.

  I had just managed to untangle my bra from my shirt when another knock rattled the door.

  Clue whined.

  Me too.

  This knock was more forceful than before. Or confident? Either way, Clue was now hungry, wet, and in no mood for entertaining more strangers.

  Or maybe I was projecting my own displeasure.

  I patted her bottom. “Give me another minute, kiddo. Then you can toss a bell around my neck and call me Bessie.”

  I peeked through the peep hole.

  My stomach dropped.

  “Might be longer than a minute, Clue.”

  Sirens again.

  I turned in the bed, pitching the pillow over my head. It didn’t block the noise. People shouting in the street. The squeal of tires.

  Gunshots.

  The flashing lights dazzled my room with reds and blues. I knew better than to go to the window, but I checked the time. Three in the morning.

  I rolled over and plugged my fi
ngers in my ears. No matter how many sirens and arrests, the neighborhood never seemed to get any safer.

  Just a lot more tired.

  Of everything.

  The twist in my gut wasn’t a good reaction to the flash of the badge. The officer dressed in civilian clothes, but he pushed aside his suit jacket to keep the badge clear.

  Like that would convince me to open the door.

  My first forgotten instinct wasn’t how to hold my baby or soothe her cries.

  It was a hesitance.

  “Who is it?”

  The rumbling, melting caramel voice answered with a confident warmth.

  “Ironfield police. May I come in?”

  The last thing I needed was for the neighbors in the fancy-pants penthouse to resent the lady with the screaming newborn and cops banging her door down. That’d make them circle the welcome wagons.

  Besides—the flutter of hope returned.

  Maybe he had good news? Maybe they figured out who I was.

  Maybe they found Clue’s father?

  I opened the door. My breath hitched.

  If only amnesia struck twice so I could again fall in love at first sight.

  The moment rushed past us too quickly, and I regretted the single heartbeat that stole the perfect infinity from me.

  The police officer stood tall, proud, and with such confidence it was as if he bore the world on his broad shoulders and balanced it all with poise and strength. The crisp, immaculate suit stretched taut over his muscles. The button-down shirt and pressed slacks weren’t a patrolman’s uniform, but it still radiated authority.

  He stared at me—his eyes a brighter blue than any uniform. They weren’t soft or inquisitive, but intelligent. He got all the answers he needed with a single glance, but the arch of his eyebrow could spill anyone’s secrets.

  I swallowed hard, staring at this beautiful man. He wore his hair longer than I expected for an officer, just a tease of blonde he could run through his fingertips. He didn’t smile, but his lips naturally upturned. Far too friendly for a cop. He wore a thin beard—neatly trimmed and close to his jaw. The rough, dust color framed his fair complexion but strengthened an already strong jaw and angled cheekbones.

  This wasn’t fair.

  I was two days from a shower, holding a fussing baby. My hair had burst from the weak ponytail holder, and my shirt stained with a variety of fluids—most not mine.

  At least Clue wasn’t the only one drooling at the moment.

  “Hello.” It was all he said.

  All he needed to say.

  If he was the type of first responder to save me after an accident, I’d jump in front of anything. Ambulances. Fire trucks. Sports cars. I’d even leap into the road before other types of food trucks to chance encounter a sexy foreign guy. Tacos for the Latino. Pizza for an Italian.

  “Hi…” I swallowed. Nearly took my tongue with it.

  The moment went on for too long. Embarrassingly long.

  At least I’d learned something about myself. I wasn’t a blabbering idiot. Just a silent one.

  “How can I do you?” I fumbled over the words. Damn it. “I mean. What can I do for you?”

  He hesitated, just staring at me. Did I seem that exhausted? Overwhelmed? Astounded by how gorgeous he was?

  “Is this a bad time?” he asked.

  “Is there ever a good time with a newborn?” I allowed him inside. “Might as well talk now. I’m…”

  Under his gaze, I forgot the name the nurses gave me. Was it irony, brain damage, or sleep deprivation that humiliated me?

  I forced a smile. “Maybe that’s why you’re here. Hopefully you know who I am…I could use another hint.”

  The officer chuckled. His words went soft as he stared at the bundle in my arms. “Is that…her?”

  I gave Clue a bounce before she started to fuss. “Nope. This is a loaner baby. They let me have my pick before I left the hospital. She was the cutest.”

  “You picked good.”

  I held my breath as he approached, leaning over to get a better look at her. “Well, I thought about taking two…but that felt greedy.”

  “Yeah.” He agreed. “Then this might not be a social call.”

  “Ah. So I’m not in trouble?”

  “You were just discharged from the hospital. What sort of trouble could you have found?”

  “Well, trouble landed me in the hospital, so you tell me, Officer…”

  He stared at me, almost forcing me to hold his gaze.

  That wasn’t a problem. It was a good gaze.

  “Do you remember me?” His voice warmed. “At all?”

  Uh-oh. I’d expected an interrogation. Instead I got a pop quiz.

  “Believe me…” I was too tired to lie. “I’d remember someone who looked like you.”

  Ah, embarassment. Now that was a familiar feeling. It heaped on me in the hospital with all the poking, prodding, and after-birthing I did.

  I attempted a recovery. He permitted it with a grace I envied.

  “I mean, I’d remember a police officer,” I said. “I know my doctors and nurses, but you…”

  I searched his face, concentrating on anything that might have connected me to the past.

  And I found it.

  Something.

  A flutter. A skipped heartbeat. A rush of heat and awkwardness and…panic?

  I had met him before. The memory wasn’t vivid, but it was real. The first honest-to-God flash from before I woke in the hospital.

  I seized that flicker and wrapped every bit of willpower around it, fighting to keep it in the forefront of my mind like a dream fading after the alarm rang.

  “You…” The excitement built in me. “Yes! I remember you!”

  The news wasn’t as thrilling to him. “You do?”

  “Yes! You were the officer who helped me after the accident. You were there!”

  He nodded, though he was slow to answer. “I responded, yes.”

  Oh. And now I understood his hesitation. “My water broke on your shoes.”

  He chuckled and examined his feet. “Don’t worry. I got a new pair.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  “Miracle of childbirth, right?”

  “I wouldn’t know. I don’t remember that part.”

  “Probably for the best. From my angle, it didn’t seem very pleasant.”

  “Pixies and rainbows,” I said. “The nurses told me I birthed pure sunshine.”

  On cue, Clue gave her interpretation of rising and shining. She crowed like a pissed off rooster, and I had no doubt she’d be waking up everyone in the building at all hours of the night.

  “I’m sorry, Officer…” I shook my head. “I can’t remember your name.”

  “Do you remember yours?”

  “Got a warrant?”

  He smirked. “You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?”

  “Where’s the fun in that? I have no memory—I need to get my kicks somewhere.”

  “You can’t remember anything?”

  I shrugged. It soothed the baby, and I gave her a bit of a shimmy to quiet her down. “Is this the first time someone hasn’t remembered you, Officer?”

  “Might be. I should make sure that pigs aren’t flying.”

  “Flap your wings?”

  He laughed. “Ouch.”

  “Sorry. I…must get a little sassy when I’m nervous.”

  “And I get a little arresty when I’m irritated.” He winked. “Hopefully it won’t come to that.”

  “Never say never.”

  “There’s no need to be nervous.” He extended a hand. I couldn’t shake it without jostling the crying baby. “I’m Detective Shepard Novak.”

  He waited as if that would be enough to trigger my memory.

  It probably should have been. He was a hero—an officer helping a pregnant woman who went into labor. Apparently, I couldn’t stop insulting him.

  “Detective Novak,” I said. “I won’t forget that now
. Promise.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  It wasn’t right to stare at those stunning blue eyes, and I’d have done anything to rid myself of that fuzzy tingle that teased over my spine. The baby gave a little whimper, and I distracted myself with her blanket. He cleared his throat.

  “I’ve been assigned to your case, Evie. I’m here to ask a couple questions. I want to see if there’s any information you can offer that will help my investigation.”

  I swallowed hard, nearly choking on hope. “Have you found my family yet?”

  The pause lasted just long enough to answer for him. “No one has called the department yet. But it’s only been a few days.”

  “Five.” I corrected him. “It’s been five days.”

  “That’s a short time.”

  “I was pregnant. Someone has to be looking for me.”

  “I’ll do everything I can to reunite you with your loved ones.” He focused on the baby. “I know no man would want to be away from his woman and child.”

  “Well, he better get his butt in gear.” I grimaced as Clue fussed harder, her displeasure edging from a whimper into full-throated cry. “I don’t remember anyone or anything, so it’s kinda up to him.”

  “You remember nothing?”

  “Sorry. That should answer all your questions.”

  “Not in the least.”

  The baby was nearing breakdown, and every cry rattled in my head. “I’m sorry. I should take care of her. I need to change and feed her, and—”

  “I’ll wait.”

  “What?”

  Shepard nodded to the baby. “Take care of her. I’ll wait.”

  Easier said than done. I was still referencing packets, books, notes, and YouTube videos to figure out how to tend to her most basic needs.

  “Can we do this some other time?” I asked. “I’m not sure I can help you today…or at all.”

  “But I might be able to help you. Take your time with her. I need to make a call to the station anyway.”

  Was he tenacious or an asshole? It didn’t matter—I couldn’t concentrate on questions while the baby cried. I left him in the living room and gathered my supplies, most of them still parked on the boxes and furniture crammed in the corner.

  Including my changing table.

  It was fine. I had the diaper and blanket, wipes and ointments, towels and water. I even grabbed a spare roll of scotch tape, just in case. I made a little area on my bedroom floor and gingerly set Clue down.