Accidental Shield (Marriage Mistake #6)(60)

Still flustered, I fold my arms.

“Didn’t we learn anything back there? Two against one isn’t fair,” I say, putting on my best fake pout.

He grins, and my heart does a somersault. He’s so good-looking it’s surreal. Even when he’s fresh out of the sea, his hair still a short mess blown by water and wind, he could be any red-blooded woman’s man-sicle on a hot Hawaiian day.

Ugh. His first wife must’ve been certifiably insane to ever let him get away.

If things were different, I sure wouldn’t.

Right now, though, jumping in bed with a strange man I thought I was married to is as far away from what I need as the moon from the earth. What kind of man wants a woman who can’t remember last month, anyway?

Bryce returns shortly with a glass of that decadent mango tea while Flint heads inside to cook. I heave out the air in my lungs, smile at Bryce, and take the drink.

He sits down on the chair next to me, petting Savanny, who jumps up beside him. We start chatting about all the things he’s read about cats on the internet. He tells me he plans to do a science paper on it when school starts again.

Ten minutes in, I wonder if the boy’s heading for a career in feline zoology. He’s a little Bryce-opedia and, I have to admit, pretty interesting.

I’m amazed he remembers so much from reading a few articles and watching YouTube.

He’s a smart boy, a kind one, and I thoroughly enjoy visiting with him. We’re still talking when Flint comes outside and tells us he’s got dinner on the table.

Okay, fine. So I’ll admit it.

I’m a very lucky woman, staying at the Chateau Calum, amnesia and all. The company certainly couldn’t be better. Or the accommodations.

It’s the best place a girl could hope to unwind while she’s got pissed off hitmen hot on her trail.

The conversation continues inside. We chow down on this scrumptious chicken with a Hawaiian barbecue glaze over it, plenty of sauteed veggies, and some garlic rice on the side.

My own appetite surprises me. I’m fit to pop open by the time I drain another glass of water and get up from the table, thanking Flint for the tenth time.

I help clean the kitchen—something I insist I’m healthy enough to do—and we retire to the living room where we watch a movie. They watch it, technically.

I can’t say what it’s even about because I’m spending more time watching them. Bryce curls up in the leather recliner with his legs up and Savanny purring on his lap. The furball trades places halfway through the film for my familiar warmth. Flint lounges on the sofa, on the other end of it from me.

Everything has changed in the past twenty-four hours.

Last night, we sat here alone, watching movies through my illusion. I thought I was happily married to him then, wishing my memory would come back because I wanted to remember everything about him.

Now, I know better.

I also know I don’t ever want to forget anything about him or his son.

They’re good people, and long after this is over, I’ll remember everything about them.

It’s often said we don’t always remember the good people say and do. But there’s no forgetting how they make us feel.

Maybe it took this amnesia hell to make me understand. But I can’t imagine going through life without being more attentive, more grateful for the people willing to soothe my heart instead of stomping all over it.

Even now, most of the stuff I remember comes because I feel it. And those feelings are ugly.

I can’t imagine that’ll ever happen with my memories here. It’d take a lot to sour me on this man and his delightful little boy.

“Hey, Bryce Crispie. You’re falling asleep,” Flint says sometime later.

“Nah.” Bryce’s eyelids flutter open and he lets out a gaping yawn. “This show’s just boring.”

“Nope. You’re so tired you already missed all the sharks with laser beams and chicks in bikinis,” Flint says, turning to me. Joking, he mouths.

Bryce sits up a little straighter and grins. “Just a little tired, Dad. Maybe.”

“Why don’t you head on up to bed? It’ll help you get back in the groove with your summer swim lessons,” Flint says. “Take a minute to shower off the sea water.”

“I will.” Bryce pulls the lever on the chair and sits up.

The noise wakes up Savanny, who darts off my lap, going over to him.

Looking at me, he asks, “Mind if I leave my door open tonight? He can sleep in my room if he wants.”

Impressed that he asked, I agree, “Sure. He’s taken a shine to you, and it’s probably better he comes and goes as he pleases. Might minimize the crazy nocturnal acrobatics cats do.”

“Yeah, he’s cool. Think he likes me,” Bryce says, extending a few fingers for the cat to sniff.

“As much as you like him?” Flint asks.

Bryce’s face goes flat.

“Uh, I hope so. That’s a weird question, Dad.” Grinning, he says, “Night, guys.”

“Good night,” I call after him.

“Don’t forget to shower,” Flint reminds him again. “You’ll end up itching all day tomorrow if you don’t.”

“Okay, okay, I’m on it,” Bryce says, heading for the stairs.

“I’ll be listening,” Flint says.