Lost In Me (Here and Now 1)

“Your first day out of the hospital and you’re already back at work,” Mom lectures.

“I’m fine,” I assure her.

“You’re not fine. You’ve had a bad fall and you need to recover.”

“The doctor said I could get back to my normal routine. She said it might even be good for me.”

Mom grins. “And you know what else will be good for you?”

“I can guess,” Lizzy grumbles.

“I have appointments scheduled with three different possible wedding venues,” Mom says. “I thought, what better way to recuperate than to focus on something that makes you happy? Something good.”

“I don’t know if I can—”

“I won’t hear any objections. You’re my daughter, and I’m going to make sure you take care of yourself these next few weeks.” She tilts my chin up and moves my face side to side, inspecting my bruises. If she thinks those are bad, she should see what’s going on under my shirt. “I bet you’ll be healed enough for a wedding in as soon as a month.”

Lizzy chokes on her coffee, and I gape at my mother. “A month?”

Granny tsks. “Don’t rush the girl, Gretchen.”

“Why you would drag your feet when a man like Max wants to marry you is beyond me.”

“I’m not dragging my feet,” I object, but I kind of am. Because don’t I need answers before I can say my vows to Max? Don’t I need my memories?

“So it’s settled. We’ll spend tomorrow looking at wedding venues.”

“I can’t just set a date without talking to Max,” I object.

Mom waves away my concern. “It’s the wedding. All men worry about is the bachelor party and the wedding night. Besides, we need to know what dates the venue you want is available. Then we’ll talk about setting a date.”

I try to take deep breaths, but I keep thinking about the man in my apartment, about all the things I don’t know about the last year. My headache is back and nausea rolls over me. I brace myself on the counter.

“See, Gretchen?” Granny scolds. “You’re stressing her out.”

“I’m okay,” I lie. “I’m just a little overwhelmed. I need Lizzy to bring me up to date on work stuff and I’ll feel better.”

Mom rolls her eyes then sighs. “Fine. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at noon. Elizabeth, don’t you dare let your sister do any work.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lizzy says, irritation clear in her voice.

The women take their coffee and push through the door. A hot billow of August air fills the store as the door floats closed.

“Come on,” Lizzy says. “Let’s get some baking done before you have to spend all your waking hours planning your happily-ever-after.”

My phone buzzes from the pocket of my apron. I wipe my hands on a towel and pull it out.

Appointment with Doc Perkins.

I frown at the calendar reminder. Do I know a Dr. Perkins?

I move to the sink and turn the water on with the back of my hand. Once it’s hot, I wash my hands with soap

and water, dry them, and grab my phone again.

I have no idea how I managed to lose so much weight while doing this job. A single morning in my bakery and I’m jacked up on dozens of taste tests. A little bite of this treat, a sample of that frosting. I practically have a stomach ache. Thank God for my compulsive organization. It was relatively easy to find all my recipes. I was preparing gum-paste calla lilies for this weekend’s wedding cake when my phone buzzed, but I can finish up later.

The reminder doesn’t have a phone number or an address, so I pull up the browser on my phone and do a quick search. “Dr. Perkins New Hope” doesn’t get me any hits, so I try “Dr. Perkins Indianapolis.”