Forgetting You
Page 89
“He’s a graphic designer, he works from home. He’ll likely be here.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll be back soon.”
I gripped the handles of my crutches, and walked across the car park, up the steps and into the building without pausing or looking back. I remembered the flat number Anderson had told me, and the floor. I entered the elevator, and hit the button for the fourth floor. When the doors opened, I made my way down the hallway, counting the numbers on the doors as I passed them. When I came to 406, I came to a stop.
I put my phone on silent just in case the noise of it interrupted an important conversation. I sent Elliot a text that I was okay and would speak to him soon, then I put my phone into the pocket of my dress, lifted my hand and knocked on the door. There was a period of thirty seconds or so where I felt like I couldn’t breathe, then the door opened and I inhaled.
“Noah.”
“Anderson,” I said, swallowing. “Hi.”
He tilted his head to the side and watched me with his dark eyes. I wondered what was going through his head at my unannounced arrival.
“Bailey is dead.”
Anderson blinked, then stepped aside without a word and waited as I silently passed by him and entered his home. There was a short white hallway that I walked down, and at the end was a kitchen that was paired with a large, open sitting room. There was another hallway to the right of the room that I assumed to be where the bedroom and bathroom were. I had no way of being sure, because I had no memory of the place.
“Do you recognise anything, baby?”
I looked around the strange place once again and then shook my head.
“Nothing,” I answered. “I can’t remember anything.”
“That’s okay,” Anderson said from behind me. “You don’t need to remember it.”
I couldn’t help but tense when his hands touched my waist, simply because he wasn’t my partner.
“You’ve lost a lot of weight,” he said, leaving his hands in place. “Are you sick?”
“No.” I cleared my throat. “I’m just eating the diet I normally did – the one I remember, at least.”
“You don’t need to lose weight,” he said, his face moving to the back of my neck as he inhaled my scent. “You were too skinny when we met.”
“I didn’t think so. I was just slim.”
Anderson hummed but didn’t reply. Then, “Sit,” he said, “I want to talk.”
Good, because I did too.
I crossed the space and sat down on the sofa, not being able to help the sigh of relief that left me. I was exhausted, both mentally and physically. My leg hurt like hell.
“Can I put my leg up on your coffee table?” I asked. “It’s throbbing.”
“Of course.” Anderson pushed it closer to me, and helped me lifted my leg up.
“Thank you.”
“Want a cuppa?” he asked with a wink. “Two sugars?”
I found myself smiling as I nodded. “Yes, please.”
He entered the kitchen and put the kettle on while I looked around the room. I gasped when I spotted pictures of myself decorating the wall. I was smiling in every single one, but I didn’t look happy. I knew what I looked like when I forced a smile, and that was exactly the expression on my face in each picture. My stomach clenched. If I wasn’t happy in these pictures . . . maybe I hadn’t been happy with Anderson like I thought I was.
I was planning on divorcing him, but the knowledge that I may have been unhappy in my marriage to him shocked me. For some reason, I’d believed if I got my memories back that I would find myself in love with Anderson, and that had scared me because of how much I loved Elliot. But as I looked at my smile, at my eyes, in the pictures around me, I was starting to believe that may not have been the case.
I looked at Anderson as he walked towards me with two steaming cups in his hands. He placed one in front of me on a coaster, then sat across from me and sipped from his. He watched me the entire time, and it was a little unnerving. I picked up my cup and thanked him. I blew on the steaming liquid, then took a gulp. I smacked my lips together, tasting the sweetness of the sugar and the slight bitterness of something else. It wasn’t bad, just a faint taste. I drank some more, then placed it on the coaster next to my leg.
“You look like your health has improved.”
“It has,” I said with a nod. “My leg is the only thing giving me a spot of trouble right now, but it’s healing, and that’s the important thing.”
Anderson took another sip of his tea.