My Almost Ex

by Piper Rayne

  A week after I moved back into the cabin, I wake up in my spare room and instead of going downstairs, I sit on the edge of the bed for a moment and stare out the front window. The noises downstairs must be from Lucy making breakfast. She’s been trying different foods this week. Since she loved Frank’s soufflé at the inn, she’s “rechecking her palette,” as she likes to say. I chuckle. The old Lucy never tried anything she didn’t already know she liked.

  The same question that’s been plaguing me for the past week resurfaces—how can she be the old Lucy but be so different at the same time?

  Along with testing every food she can get her hands on, she’s been reading her journals and looking at pictures, but if any more memories have come back, she hasn’t told me. Still, last night I pulled in the driveway and stood outside the house, looking at the lights glowing from within. Knowing she was in there tugged at my heart like it was warning me, “you’re invested now.” Sadly, my heart is right.

  I knew when I agreed to help her, the line separating us would get hazy and blurred. But instead of yearning for the old Lucy to return, I’m enjoying getting to know the new one.

  I shrug on a shirt and head downstairs to eat breakfast. I’ve made an appointment with her old principal to bring her in early this afternoon to visit her old classroom and kids. Principal Richards said all the kids have cards and are eager to see her, so I think that will make her happy.

  “Oh damn,” Lucy says as I enter the kitchen, putting her finger in her mouth.

  “Pancake day?”

  She nods with her finger still in her mouth. I pull at her wrist and lead her over to the sink, where I turn on the cold water.

  “I want to see which fruit I like on my pancakes,” she says.

  I glance at the counter to see strawberries, blueberries, bananas, and raspberries.

  “Don’t tell me what I used to like,” she rushes out, and I chuckle.

  “Doesn’t look bad.” I turn off the faucet. “Watch it for a blister though.”

  “It was just the butter on the pan.”

  “Want me to?” I say, reaching for the spatula.

  “No way. You sit and I’ll feed you.” She points at the breakfast stool.

  She’s wearing a pair of pajama pants and a T-shirt that reads, “I had amnesia once, possibly twice. Maybe three times. (I don’t exactly remember having it)!”

  Her vision follows mine down to her shirt. “Oh, Zane got it for me. He thinks it’s funny.”

  I grab a cup of coffee and sit on a breakfast stool. watching her. “And did Susan think it was funny?”

  She chuckles. “What do you think?”

  “My guess is no.”

  “Give the man his prize.” She points the spatula at me as though it’s a magic wand and she’s the fairy godmother.

  “Have you talked with her?”

  She shrugs. “She texted me and I texted back that I’m fine.”

  “Did you tell her you were here?”

  She flips the pancakes and doesn’t say anything for a moment. “No. I’m not sure she’d understand.” She stacks the finished pancakes on a plate and turns off the stove.

  “Did you remember how to do all that? Like how to use a stove and drive a car and things like that?”

  She hands me a plate. “Yeah. The technical term is retrograde amnesia. So I remember things before the accident, but my doctor said usually in cases like mine, my memories closer to the accident are less likely to come back. That’s why I remembered my parents and you, although there’s still so much missing.” She frowns with disappointment.

  “Have you driven a car yet?”

  She laughs and serves me four pancakes before putting two on her plate. “I was with Susan, remember?”

  I chuckle. “Well, maybe we can change that.”

  She glances outside. “I’m not driving from here though.”

  I coat my pancakes with butter and syrup, no fruit. “I’ll be right next to you.”

  “Next to me while we drive off a cliff.” She cuts her pancakes in half, positions the four pieces separately on her plate, and tops each with a different fruit.

  “That’s what guardrails are for.” I wink.

  She chuckles then stares at her plate. “Should we wager on which one is my favorite?”

  “I’ll go with strawberries.”

  “I’m going with banana,” she counters, cutting up the one with blueberries first.

  “You know I might have an inside track on this.”

  She shakes her head. “If you would’ve bet me last week if I liked that soufflé, you would’ve said no, so you actually don’t.”

  “Touché.” I nod at her to start eating.

  I cut a forkful from my stack and pile it into my mouth, wishing we had some bacon. But I’m too lazy to actually make it, and I’m enjoying the game Lucy’s playing with herself.

  She chews then suddenly stops. “It just burst in my mouth.” She laughs, her teeth blue.

  I pick up a blueberry from the bowl and pop it in my mouth. “That’s the best part.”

  “Not for me. Although I do like the taste.”

  “Maybe try a muffin tomorrow.”

  “Good idea.” She points at me with her fork right before she digs into her strawberry pancake. “Hmm…” She swallows. “I did enjoy that one.”

  I wink because it’ll be the winner in the end.

  “Now for the one that’s actually going to be the winner.”

  “Hey now, you keep talking like that and I’m going to make an argument about you not being fair with your decision.”

  Her laughter rings through the entire downstairs. I swear it’s still the best sound I’ve ever heard. When we had the impromptu party over here last week, she laughed too, but not when it was just the two of us.

  She puts the banana pancake in her mouth and looks at the ceiling. “It’s okay. I like it, but it’s not my favorite.”

  I grin.

  “See? I didn’t lie. Technically you’re the winner so far.”

  “And what do I win?” My voice is filled with innuendo I didn’t intend.

  The room quiets and she stops moving. I’m not sure either of us can pretend that our thoughts haven’t lingered on sexual ones at times. I’ve caught her looking at me as if she wants to climb me, and every morning, I have to see her wearing no bra under a thin T-shirt. It takes every ounce of my willpower not to corner her and show her how the sex was between us.

  “If you win, I’ll drive today,” she says.

  “Deal,” I say, eager to get the thought of screwing her on this counter and eating blueberries and strawberries off her body out of my head.

  “Okay then, last one.” She puts the pancake with raspberries in her mouth, chews once, and heads over to the sink, spitting it out. “I can’t do it. All these little things exploded in my mouth.”

  I laugh and finish off the rest of my pancakes. “So is it safe to say I win?”

  Turning around, she plucks a paper towel off the rack and wipes her mouth. “I always loved strawberries?” she asks, seeming a little disappointed.

  I amp up the suspense by shaking my head.

  “What was my old favorite?”

  I point at the banana and she smiles. But the smile is bright and wide as though she would’ve been disappointed if she’d chosen the same fruit she used to like.

  I knew what Nikki told her at the party was too much. Now Lucy is harboring guilt and thinking she doesn’t like the person she was, but I loved that woman. So I vow to myself that I’ll make sure she loves that version of herself too, whether or not she ever fully comes back to me.

  We sit in my truck and she looks way too tiny to be in the driver’s seat. When she lived here, she had a small SUV and refused to ever drive my truck. But new times call for new things.

  “Do I need to go over the brake and the gas?” I ask.

  She shoots me a look to say ‘stop it.’

  I hold up my hands. “Sorry, but
you don’t even remember marrying me. I have to make sure we’re all safe on this expedition.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Let’s remember this is your idea and I do remember marrying you, just not the actual ceremony.” She stares at the dash as though she’s expecting it to turn on by itself.

  “Put the key in the ignition and turn it forward,” I instruct her.

  “I know. I know.” She wiggles her ass in the seat and her back straightens, then she checks her mirrors for the millionth time. I even turned the truck around so she wouldn’t have to back down the driveway.

  I wait with one arm stretched out across the seat and resting on the back of her seat, my other arm relaxed along the door. “Let’s go. We don’t wanna be late.”

  She gives me one more death glare and puts the truck in gear, easing off the brake but slamming it down before we reach the end of the driveway. She cringes. “Sorry.”

  “No problem.”

  She leans forward over the wheel to look right and left from our driveway.

  Eventually I do the same and she playfully swats me. “I think we’re clear,” I say.

  She eases out and turns the wheel like a brand-new driver.

  “Should we see if you can get us to the school?” I ask.

  “I know my way.”

  I hold up my hands and let her take control. Once we’re out of the mountains and she’s heading toward downtown, she relaxes in the seat and her hands aren’t at ten and two any longer. More like three and nine, but it’s progress. Other than being heavy on the brake, she’s doing great.

  “This is fun. I’m gonna have to buy a car.”

  “Where’s your SUV?” I ask.

  “In Idaho.”

  So she drove there at some point. “Why not go down and drive it back up here?”

  She shrugs.

  “What’s with the shrug?” I shift in my seat a bit to face her.

  “I think I want to start fresh. I’ve thought a lot about it, and don’t get me wrong.” She turns my way and I point toward the road. “I want to remember the reason I left, and I’m going to do everything I can to figure it out, don’t think I’m not. But I’m enjoying discovering this new Lucy. How many people get to reinvent themselves?” She pulls up to the school, where they’ve changed the sign out front to welcome her back. “Oh, look at that.”

  While she parks, backing up and straightening out a few times, her words strike me again. She somehow doesn’t like who she was.

  We climb out of the truck and she hip-checks me. “I don’t get a congratulations for remembering how to get to school?”

  “Congratulations,” I say, smiling at her.

  She tilts her head as I press the buzzer to be let into the school. “Are you okay?”

  I nod and look straight into her blue eyes. “You know that you were a great person before the accident, right? I wouldn’t have fallen in love with someone who wasn’t.”

  She loses her smile for the first time all morning and nods. “I know. I’m just having fun.”

  She might be a new version of herself, but one thing hasn’t changed—I can still tell when she’s lying.

  Principal Richards and the entire office staff welcome me back with hugs and well wishes.

  After our initial hello, Principal Richards and I walk down the school hallway, Adam in tow but keeping his distance, allowing me to rediscover this side of my life without him chiming in.

  “So, obviously, your actual class has moved up a grade, but this was your old classroom. We did some swapping and brought in your old class to help you along, see if it triggers any memories.” She smiles as though this is a gift. I appreciate her efforts, but in truth, it just feels like more pressure on me.

  Adam leans along the wall as the principal knocks and enters the room, telling the kids she has a surprise. She dodges the questions about why they’re in their old classroom and who’s here and what’s going to happen to lunch and will they still have recess.

  I chuckle as Adam shakes his head. “Wouldn’t it be nice to have the worries of a kid again?”

  “Absolutely.” I smile at him.

  “Here’s your surprise. Mrs. Greene is here.” Principal Richards holds out her arm as though I’m a celebrity the kids worship.

  I enter, apprehensive I’ll even recollect how to behave with a class full of children. Was I funny, mean, or serious all the time? I still remember my second grade teacher, Mrs. Phillips, and I hated her.

  The class rushes up from the carpet and runs at me, swarming my waist with such a force I almost fall back.

  “Looks like they must have liked you,” Adam says, leaning against a wall. His raised eyebrows make it clear what he’s thinking. I’ve always been translucent to him—he’s able to see right through me.

  The kids all fire out questions in unison.

  “How are you?”

  “My mom said you don’t know who you are?”

  “You left us, and we had a mean sub.”

  I field the questions as much as I can, but Principal Richards tries to calm them and tell them not to stress me out. Then a little girl asks what stress means. I hate when people feel as though they have to be my protector when I can manage just fine.

  “Let’s sit and I’ll tell you a little about what happened to me, okay?” I say.

  They all listen, sitting down and crossing their legs on the rug.

  “Here, we have a chair for you,” the teacher of the class says.

  “Thanks, Abby,” I say, and she freezes.

  “You remember me?” she asks with wide eyes and a smile.

  I look at her again and nod. “I do.” Then my gaze shifts to Adam and he smiles. “Did I meet you after I was married?”

  She laughs. “You did. My husband moved up here to work at Bailey Lumber and that’s when I started teaching here.”

  I release a breath. Maybe this whole immersing myself thing is working.

  “You and Abby used to do lunch every day,” Principal Richards informs me. “You two were always pairing up with special events around the school.”

  “It’s great to see you,” I say.

  “You look great and…” She glances at Adam. “I’m happy you’ve returned.”

  “Me too.”

  A little girl in the front row raises her hand. She’s cute, with two braids, a matching skirt and top, and a name tag that reads Kayla. “Mrs. Greene?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is my mommy right? Do you know who you are?”

  I giggle and sit in the chair Abby put out for me. “Let me start from the beginning. Three months ago, I fell off a horse and hit my head really hard.”

  “I fell off my bike last summer, hurt my wrist,” the boy with Logan on his name tag says. I can only assume the name tags were put on them with the hopes it would either trigger my memory or just make things easier on me.

  “Children—” Principal Richards tries to step in.

  I raise my hand that it’s okay. “It’s similar to falling off your bike, but horses are really high, so when I fell, I had a long way to go until I hit the ground.”

  “That’s scary,” Kayla says.

  “Horses are pretty. We have two,” Gia says.

  “No one cares about your horses, Gia,” Evan says next to her.

  She sneers at him, giving a look she’ll no doubt perfect over the years. I laugh on the inside.

  “So I did forget some things, but I do know that I’m Lucy…” My gaze lands on Adam. Do I say Greene or Davis?

  “Greene, Mrs. Greene. Your last name is Greene,” Kayla says, trying to be helpful, and the rest of the kids groan. “You don’t remember, do you?”

  Adam shakes his head, trying to hold in a laugh, and slides into a chair at the desk.

  “No, I do remember, but you guys know Greene is my married name, right?”

  “Yeah, you’re married to Mr. Adam and he’s a park ranger,” Logan says. “I want to be a park ranger.”

  Adam leans fo
rward and high fives the kid.

  “You had him come in and tell us about his job. Don’t you remember?” Kayla asks. She seems to be the one most concerned about my memory.

  “Can he tell us the story of how he had to scale a mountain to save a man who had no business being up there?” Evan turns toward Adam.

  I stifle my own chuckle, assuming that last part must’ve been Adam’s own words.

  “Later, bud,” Adam says. “Let’s listen to Mrs. Greene right now.”

  Evan turns back toward me.

  “I guess you guys really enjoyed Mr. Adam, huh?”

  “She doesn’t remember?” Kayla looks at Abby with wide eyes like Abby should be picking up the phone and calling 911.

  Abby lowers her hands. “Relax. Mrs. Greene is trying to tell a story and you guys keep interrupting. Interrupting is terribly rude, remember?”

  “I remember, but does she?” Kayla points at me.

  My gaze lingers on Adam behind them and he nods for me to continue and disregard anything they say.

  “Anyway, so I came back up here with the hopes that my memory returns.”

  “And that’s why you left us right before the class concert?” Evan asks.

  Principal Richards groans. “We discussed this before Mrs. Greene came in, Evan.”

  “Unfortunately, Evan, that’s one of the memories that hasn’t come back yet.”

  “My mommy said that Mr. Adam was really sad. I saw him at the store after you left and he was really nice, gave me a high five.” Kayla turns to him. Adam nods that he remembers. “Mommy said if it was her, she’d have a grocery cart full of ice cream and cookies. And I asked why. She said he was nursing a broken heart.” She shrugs. “I guess that fixes it.” She turns around again. “Did you break your heart too?” she asks me.

  I close my eyes briefly.

  “How does your heart break?” Evan asks, staring down at his chest.

  “Where is our heart?” Gia asks.

  “You mean those paper hearts for Valentine’s Day?” Logan says.

  “My grandpa had a bad heart. Is that the same thing?” Ashley asks.

  “Maybe we should just end this,” Principal Richards says.

  “No, it’s okay.” I shake my head. “Your heart is right here.” I lay my hand over mine. “The term broken heart is a figure of speech. It means that someone you love hurt you really bad.”