land that’s been in your family for generations to a man who’s going to destroy it to build some tourist trap.”
The pain in her voice sent an uncomfortable sensation through his chest. Something remarkably like guilt ate at him, but what did he have to feel guilty about? None of this was his fault.
“How did we meet?” he asked. “I need to know everything.”
She toyed with her fork, and her lips turned down into an unhappy frown.
“The first time I saw you, you were wearing an uptight suit, shoes that cost more than my house and you had on sunglasses. It annoyed me that I couldn’t see your eyes, so I refused to speak to you until you took them off.”
“And where was this?”
“Moon Island. You were asking about a stretch of beachfront property and who owned it. I, of course, was the owner, and I figured you were some guy from the city with big plans to develop the island and save all the locals from a life of poverty.”
He frowned. “It wasn’t for sale? I remember it being for sale before I ever went down there. I wouldn’t have known about it otherwise.”
She nodded. “It was. I…I needed to sell it. My grandmother and I could no longer afford the property taxes. But we agreed we wouldn’t sell to a developer. It was bad enough that I was forced to sell land that’s been in my family for generations.”
She broke off, clearly uncomfortable with all she’d shared.
“Anyway, I figured you for another stiff suit, and so I sent you across the island on a wild-goose chase.”
He sent a glare in her direction. For the first time, a smile flirted on the edge of her lips.
“You were so angry with me. You stormed back to my cottage and banged on my door. You demanded to know what the hell I was doing and said I didn’t act like someone who desperately needed to sell a piece of land.”
“That sounds like me,” he acknowledged.
“I informed you that I wasn’t interested in selling to you and you demanded to know why. When I told you of my promise to my grandmother that we’d only sell to someone willing to sign a guarantee that they wouldn’t commercially develop the stretch of beach, you asked to meet her.”
An uncomfortable prickle went up his nape. That didn’t sound like him. He wasn’t one to get personal. Everyone had their price. He would have simply upped his offer until he found theirs.
“The rest is pretty embarrassing,” she said lightly. “I took you to meet Mamaw. The two of you got along famously. She invited you to stay for supper. Afterward we took a walk on the beach. You kissed me. I kissed you back. You walked me back to my cottage and told me you’d see me the next day.”
“And did I?”
“Oh, yes,” she whispered. “And the day after, and the day after. It took me three days to talk you out of that suit.”
He lifted a brow and stared.
Her cheeks turned red and she clamped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, God, I didn’t mean it like that. You wore that suit everywhere on the beach. You stuck out like a sore thumb. So I took you shopping. We bought you beachwear.”
This was starting to sound like a nightmare. “Beachwear?”
Her head bobbed up and down. “Shorts. T-shirts. Flip-flops.”
Maybe the doctor had been right. He lost his memory because he wanted to forget. Flip-flops? It was all he could do not to stare down at his very expensive leather loafers and imagine wearing flip-flops.
“And I wore this…beachwear.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You did. We bought swim trunks, too. I don’t know of anyone who goes to an island and doesn’t pack something to swim in, so we got you some trunks and I took you to my favorite stretch of the beach.”
So far her version of the weeks missing from his memory was so divergent from everything he knew of himself that it was like listening to a story about someone else. What could have possessed him to act so out of character?
“How long did this relationship you say we had go on?” he croaked.
“Four weeks,” she said softly. “Four wonderful weeks. We were together every day. By the end of the first week, you gave up your hotel room and you stayed with me. In my bed. We’d make love with the windows open so we could listen to the ocean.”
“I see.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t believe me.”
“Bryony,” he said carefully. “This is very difficult for me. I’m missing a month of my life and what you’re telling me sounds so fantastical, so utterly out of character for me, that I can’t even wrap my head around it.”
She pressed her lips together but he could still see them tremble. “Yeah, I get that this is difficult for you. But try to see things from my perspective for just a few moments. Imagine that the person you were in love with and thought was in love with you suddenly can’t remember you. Imagine what kind of doubts you have when you discover that everything he told you was a lie and that he made you promises he didn’t keep. How would you feel?”
He stared into her eyes, gutted by the sorrow he saw. “I’d be pretty damn upset.”
“Yeah. That about covers it.”
She stood and pushed the serving cart back so that she could step around it. Her hand crept around the back of her neck and she rubbed absently as she stood just a short distance from where he sat on the edge of the bed.
“Look, this is…pointless. I’m really tired. You should probably go now.”
He shot to his feet. “You want me to go?” It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her if she was out of her damn mind, but that wouldn’t win him any more points with her. “After dumping this story on me, after telling me I’m going to be a father, you expect me to just walk away?”
“It’s what you did before,” she said wearily.
“How the hell can you say that? How do you know what I did or didn’t do when I don’t even know? You said you loved me and that I loved you. I’ve just told you I can’t remember any of it. How do you get that I walked away from you? That I somehow betrayed you? I was in an accident, Bryony. What was the last day you saw me? What did we do? Did I dump you? Did I tell you I was leaving you?”
Her face was white and her fingers were balled into tiny fists at her sides.
“It was the day after we closed on the land. You said you had to go back to New York. It was some emergency you had to attend to personally. You said it wouldn’t take more than a day or two. You told me you’d be back, that you couldn’t wait to come back, and that once you’d returned, we’d discuss what we’d do with the land,” she said painfully.
“What day was it? The date, Bryony. The exact date.”
“June third.”
“The
