“He held me,” I murmur into my coffee, “and woke me up with sweet kisses on my neck. He knew my name, knew how I like to be touched. When he saw my ring, he said, ‘You could have told me.’ Then, before he left, he said he hoped Max and I had a nice life—mentioning Max by name.”
Lizzy whistles long and low. “He knows about Max?”
I nod and add, “But does Max know about him?” I let that sink in for a minute. “Max is the love of my life. Why would I ruin that?
“Was he hot?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, but that’s hardly the point.”
“So who was it? Anyone from town?”
“No one I recognized, but that doesn’t mean anything when I can’t remember the last year.”
“Oh, good point.” She sips her coffee. “What did he look like?”
“Young, probably my age. Dark hair, a little shaggy like Max’s, I guess. He was tall, built.”
“Again, like Max,” Liz says.
“Maybe taller than Max and not quite that muscular, but impressive still.”
“You’re describing half of Max’s workout buddies.”
“Fuck,” I groan. “Please tell me I’m not cheating on him with one of his friends.”
“In what ways didn’t he look like Max?”
“Tattoos!” I hold my hands together. Maybe this will be the piece of information that will help Lizzy identify my visitor. “He had several. Some numbers over his left pec and a Hulk tattoo on his right shoulder.”
Lizzy raises a brow. “As in Hulk Hogan?”
“As in the Incredible Hulk. You won’t like me when I’m angry Hulk.”
“You’re engaged to Max Hallowell and having an affair with a nerd?”
“Maybe?” I lift my palms helplessly. “Do you know who he is? I’m really freaking out here.”
She shakes her head. “Not a clue.”
“Stupid amnesia.”
“No kidding.” She paces. Stops. Paces. Looks out the window, toys with her hair, paces some more. Suddenly, her head pops up, making her curls bounce around her face. “Oh my God. So obvious!”
“What’s obvious?” I’m so worried she’s going to say, “Tell Max everything.” That whole “honesty is the best policy” thing has always worked for me, but…
I’m not sure this is a the-truth-will-set-you-free kind of situation. And…
How can I tell Max the truth when I don’t even know what the truth is?
“This is the twenty-first century, right? If you and some guy had a thing, there would be digital evidence.”
“Digital evidence? You think I’d have let him take pictures? Oh God! Video?”
Lizzy winces. “Let’s hope not, but that’s not what I mean. You know, text messages and stuff.”
I don’t even bother replying because I’m scrambling toward my purse so I can look at my phone.
I scroll through my text messages. A conversation between me and Max, between me and my mom. Maggie, Cally, Lizzy, even Cally’s little sister Drew.