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.
I was falling for him, too, and that scared the hell out of me. How could I fall in love with someone when I didn’t even know who I was? I had no clue what I wanted in life. What I already had. What I’d lost.
All of the unknown was maddening. And terrifying.
Laying in bed with just my thoughts was no way to pass the time, so I grabbed the magazine from where it lay across my comforter and flipped it open right to the middle.
I found myself staring at the same woman who stared back at me in the mirror every day.
I closed the magazine. My pulse beat in a panicky rhythm with such force, I could feel it at my throat, wrists, and fingertips. I rolled up off the bed, out of breath for no other reason than shock alone, and put my back to the closet as I stared at the magazine that lay upon my bed.
“What the hell?” I breathed.
Sweat had bloomed on my upper lip and the nape of my neck.
None of this made sense.
Why the fuck was I in a magazine spread? What had I been selling?
I shook my head. No, it couldn’t have been me. I must have made a mistake. Maybe it was just a girl who looked like me. After all, I’d just gotten used to my own reflection. It would be easy to make a mistake like that.
I went back to the bed and stared at the back of the magazine. I waited for my pulse to slow, but it didn’t.
“Remember,” I pleaded with myself.
Nothing. No memories surged to the surface. I was still just me, the girl who couldn’t remember a damn thing, and I was still staring down at the first real answer to cross my path. Staring down and doing nothing.
I growled at my own weakness and grabbed the magazine again. I flipped frantically through the pages until I found the one that had frightened me.
There was no doubt about it. That was me.
My name was written in the bottom corner. It was an eyeliner ad.
Eyeliner.
“What’s happening?” I half-whispered, half-moaned. My brain was spinning a mile a minute, trying to find something concrete to latch onto, but there was nothing. Nothing.
And then my reeling mind found something to focus on.
Cal.
He’d been lying to me this whole time.
I wasn’t a nanny. I was a model and, apparently, a fairly successful one.
I closed the magazine and my eyes, and I blew out a slow breath through my nose. I had to calm down. Getting worked up and spiraling out of control in a blind rage wasn’t going to help me.
But a computer would.
I marched downstairs, the magazine clutched in my right hand, and went into Cal’s home office, where I moved the mouse to wake up the screen. Luckily, it wasn’t protected with a password, and I was able to open the web browser without any roadblocks.
I typed in my name.
“Lina Nelson,” I said aloud as I typed.
My finger hovered over the Enter button. Why I hadn’t thought to search for myself online, I had no idea. It should have been the first thing I did, but I wouldn’t have known I was famous. I wouldn’t have known I’d have an online presence.
I pressed the button, and images of me flooded the screen.
Me drinking energy drinks. Me laughing in a bathing suit, holding a bottle of sunscreen. Me in a sparkly dress at what appeared to be a New Year’s party, holding a bottle of liquor. Me in a wedding dress, showing off flashy earrings.
Me everywhere.
I swallowed. Nausea rolled in my gut.
And then the front door opened.
“Lina?”
His voice echoed down the hall to me. I straightened up but didn’t call back to him. What the hell was I going to say? “Hello” seemed rather pathetic, given the circumstances.
I heard him coming. His boots struck the hardwood with every step. He passed the open door to the office, stopped walking, back tracked, and looked right at me.
“Lina?” he asked.
“You lied,” I said.
His brows drew together in that way I thought was attractive. Now, I saw it for what it was: dishonesty and guilt. Cal stepped into the room. “What are you doing in here?”
I handed him the magazine. I hadn’t even realized that I’d been holding it so tight that all the pages had crumpled in my fist. “Page twenty-six.”
He flipped it open and stared down at my image. His mouth opened, but no words came out. I stared at him, wondering what lie he was going to concoct on the spot in an effort to keep me here. In this house. With him.
“You had an answer this big for me, and you kept it to yourself,” I said. “Why? What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Lina, please—”
“You don’t get to ask anything of me, Cal. Not now. Answer me one thing. Was I ever a nanny for Asher? Or was that all some fictional bullshit you weaved to stop me from leaving?”
He shook his head. “I never lied, Lina. I didn’t want to overwhelm you. I thought…” He trailed off and shook his head as he tossed the magazine down on his computer desk. “I made a mistake.”
“I’m leaving.”
“What? No. Please, let’s talk about this. There’s more to this than what you think. Just give me a second to explain it all.”
I walked around the desk and shouldered him out of my way. “No, you had plenty of chances to explain it. I wouldn’t believe a word that came out of your mouth anyway.” My throat ached, and my eyes burned. Tears were coming, and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
I marched up the stairs, and Cal followed. He was talking, but I wasn’t listening. I didn’t give a damn what he was trying to say. It all sounded like excuses to me. Weak, selfish excuses.
I threw some of my things back in my carry-on. Not all of them. I didn’t have time to pack it all up before the real waterworks hit me. I needed to get out of this house. I needed privacy.
“Lina,” Cal pleaded as I brushed by him again and hurried down the stairs. He was right behind me. He reached out and caught my elbow when we reached the main floor. “I was scared.” His voice sounded very unlike him. “I was scared that I would never see you again. And fuck, did it feel good to have you back in my life.”
I glared at him. “So, it’s been all about you this whole time?”
Cal hung his head. “I’m sorry.”
“Goodbye, Cal.”
I marched out. He didn’t come after me. Thank God. I couldn’t bear to even look at him. My insides felt like they were melting, and my brain screamed at me to run, while my heart pleaded with me to stay here. To stay with Cal.
But I didn’t dare stay.
When I emerged out on the driveway, I found myself standing in the headlights of Nick’s car. He got out, pulled his jacket closed around his neck, and looked back up at the front door where I was sure Cal was standing. “What’s going on?” he asked. “Are you all right, Lina?”
I shook my head. “I need to get out of here.”
Nick licked his lips. “All right. Where do you want to go?”
“A hotel. Please. Please get me out of here.”
Nick walked around the hood of the car and opened the back door. Asher was inside, and he ushered him out and told him to go right to his dad. Asher waved at me as he ran past, but I didn’t wave back. I couldn’t. The first tear had escaped.
Nick opened the passenger door for me. “Come on, Lina. Let’s get you out of the cold and somewhere far from here.”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
31
Callum
I closed and locked the front door after Asher came inside. He took off his boots and looked up at me, his eyes full of confusion. “Dad?”
“Yeah, kiddo?”
“Where is Lina going?”
I dropped to a crouch in front of him and put my hand on his shoulder. “I’m not sure, Ash. She needed to go away for a while and have her own space to figure things out. It’s been hard for her.”
“Is she coming back?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
He frowned. “Is she sad?”
I looked down. “Yes.”
“Why?”
I couldn’t think of a single thing I could say to help Asher make sense of all this. I never should have put him in this position in the first place. Lina was right. All I’d been thinking about was myself and what I wanted. Not what she needed or deserved, and not what was best for Asher. I had let everyone down.
“Dad?” Asher prompted.
“I don’t know, Ash. I’m sorry. I wish I had a better answer for you.”
Asher bit his lip. “Are you okay?”
I forced a smile and nodded. “Yes, I’m okay. Everything will be okay. Did you have a good time at Grandpa’s?”
Asher nodded. “Yes. We watched cartoons, and played cards, and made tacos, and next time, Grandpa says he’ll show me how to make spaghetti.”
“Sounds delicious.”
“It was.” Asher grinned, and his smile was interrupted by a long, drawn out yawn. He rubbed at his eyes with his little fists.
I ruffled his hair. “Come on, Ash. Let’s get you ready for bed. It’s that time.”
Asher took my hand, and the two of us made our way up the stairs. He told me more about his time at my dad’s house. He even tried to talk to me while brushing his teeth, and he got toothpaste all over his cheeks and halfway down the handle of his toothbrush. When he was done, he had a hot bath. I sat on the tub as he splashed in the bubbles, and then I dried him off.
Asher got into his pajamas and climbed up into bed. I tucked his blankets in around him, and we played the usual game of me tucking him in too tightly and him squirming to get free. After plenty of giggling, I tucked him in how he liked and kissed his head.
“Have a good sleep, kiddo.”
“Love you, Dad.”
“I love you too.”
“Hey, Dad?”
I caught myself on his doorframe and turned back. “Yeah, kiddo?”
Asher sighed. “Can you help Lina not be sad anymore? She’s too nice to be sad.”
“Yeah, she is,” I said.
“So you’ll fix it?”
“I’m working on it, Ash.”
I left Asher’s door open a crack and went back downstairs to whip myself up a quick grilled cheese sandwich. The day had gotten away from me, and despite the guilt eating at me, I was starving. I’d been at Kelli’s for a lot longer than I thought. I’d have to call her and let her know what happened when I got home. That Lina had left.
Maybe she would still be able to help.
I sat and ate my sandwich alone. Then I cleaned my dishes and was about to flick on the television when my front door opened. I looked over the back of the sofa to see my father stroll in. He went straight into the kitchen and returned with a single glass of scotch. He sat down on the sofa across from me and fixed me with his disapproving stare.
Neither of us spoke for some time. I wasn’t willing to start the dialogue for good reason. I knew my father was going to tell me all the things I didn’t want to hear, and by the time this conversation was done, I was going to feel like an even bigger asshole than I already was.
But he wasn’t going to start it either. He just sat there, staring at me.
I sighed. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Then enlighten me,” he said.
“You’re thinking that this is what I get for stringing her along. For not listening to you. You’re thinking that here I am, yet again, keeping things from Lina Nelson. First, it was Harvard, and then, it was this. I know I messed up. I know I hurt her. I don’t need to hear it right now.”
My father laughed. It was a sound I had never heard come out of him
before. There was no mirth or joy to it. It was just this dry, angry sound, and he shook his head at the ceiling as he leaned back on the sofa. “You still have it backwards, Callum.”
Callum. He only ever used my full name when he was really upset. I was in for a rude awakening. I could practically smell it in the air.
My father met my eyes again. “You still think this is about you. You’re still incapable of looking at this objectively. Sure, I’m mad that you repeated your past mistakes, despite my warnings. And sure, I’m mad that you lied to a girl who deserved much better than that. And I’m also mad that you let Lina’s feelings come into play before you put a stop to it. But do you want to know why I’m really angry, son?”
No. No I did not. “Yes.”
My father leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. He wasn’t the old man he’d become anymore. He was his old self, full of life and strength. “I’m angry that I just had to drive her to a hotel and leave her there, alone, because you let things get this far. I had to check her in because she was in tears, Callum. She was crying over you. And son, I love you, but you do not deserve her tears. Not for this. She is broken and lost, and you had the tools to really help her. Instead, you spent this time trying to become her friend again. Her lover. I’m angry that we’re having this conversation. I’d been hopeful that you would set things right before this happened. This is incredibly disappointing, Callum.”
Talk about a kick to the gut. My father had said all the things I needed to hear but didn’t want to hear. All the things that hurt just as badly as watching Lina walk away and get in his car an hour and a half ago.
I looked down at my hands. “You’re right.”
“I know I am. And yet here we are.”
“Here we are,” I said.
My father took a few sips of his scotch, put the glass down on the table, and slid it over to me. “So how are you going to fix this?”
My Holiday Reunion Page 18