Do You Remember(37)

“Graham told me…” I think back to my conversation this morning. “He said he met me when he saved my life. He gave me the Heimlich maneuver when I was choking.”

Harry bursts out laughing. “Seriously? He told you that? No. That’s not what happened. He worked for you. As a freaking accountant. Except he wanted more. He wanted you and he wanted your company.”

“Why would he want my company?”

“You know your company is a pretty big deal now, right? I mean, you’re huge. And now that you’re out of the game, Graham is in charge. Just like he wanted.”

I didn’t know my company was a big deal. The last thing I remember, yes, we were doing okay—starting to turn a small profit. We were on our way up, but nothing that amazing. But Graham had on that expensive suit, and he looked like a successful businessman. I had no idea the business he was successful at was my own.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” I murmur.

Harry adjusts the Mets cap on his head. Even with the sunglasses off, I still can’t quite read his expression. Much like the face that stared back at me in the mirror this morning, Harry looks older too. He’s three years older than I am, so he must be pushing forty now—and he looks it. His beard is peppered with gray. When he laughed, there were more lines than there used to be.

But he is still the same guy. The same cute guy who talked circles around the employee at the store where I was trying to buy a computer that first day we met. The same guy who got down on one knee and begged me to spend my life with him. And I said yes because I couldn’t imagine ever being with anyone else.

“I don’t want to go back to him,” I say in a small voice. “I want to stay with you. Please.”

His brows knit together. “I know. I want to be with you too. You have no idea how much.”

“I have some idea.”

“I thought I’d get over it when you broke it off. And sometimes I thought I almost did, but then you called me and…” His Adam’s apple bobs. “I wish we could leave together. I really do.”

“So let’s go! Come on!”

He glances at Camila, still absorbed in her book. He almost seems to consider it, but then Camila looks up. Fast as lightning, Harry has his sunglasses back on. “We can’t do this. You have to go.”

“But—”

“Don’t take anything he gives you.” His voice is firm, leaving no room for discussion. “See if you can get into that drawer in his desk. And if you need me…” He glances at Camila again, then reaches out for my arm. He pushes up the sleeve of my sweater, then brandishes a pen from his jacket pocket. He writes ten digits on my forearm. “That’s my number. Call me if you need me. But don’t let anyone else see it.”

His fingers linger on my arm just a moment longer than they need to. A tingle goes through my skin. He’s about to leave, and I can’t bear it. I reach out and grab the sleeve of his jacket.

“Don’t go, Harry…”

He lowers his head. “Don’t make this harder.”

He stands up and lets out a low whistle. A brown mutt sprints across the dog park and comes right to Harry. He pulls a leash out of his pocket and attaches it to the dog’s collar. He gives me one last look, then he and his dog leave the dog park without me.

My eyes stray from Harry, back to where Camila is sitting at the bench right outside the dog park. She wasn’t looking at us a minute ago, but now her gaze is directed right at me. Like a laser beam.

I get a prickling sensation in the back of my neck. Did she see me talking to him? Harry was sitting all the way across the bench from me, but if she had been watching us, I’m sure she would’ve noticed we were talking. It seemed like she was absorbed in her book the entire time, but now I’m not so sure. Maybe she saw everything.

I allow my eyes to meet hers. On the way to the dog park, Camila told me one of her secrets. I don’t know whether she knows my secret or not. But I’m hoping if she does, she’ll keep it for me.





Chapter 23


When I get home, I’m itching to go upstairs and have a look in Graham’s office. But Camila won’t leave me alone. We have lunch together, then she plops down next to me on the sofa and picks up the remote control.

“What do you feel like watching?” she asks.

I frown at the TV. I didn’t bring up to Camila the possibility that she saw me talking to Harry, and neither did she. But it’s all I can think about. “What are my options?”

“Basically, anything. We can rent any movie you want. And most TV shows are available streaming.”

“Really?” It’s an interesting concept but slightly overwhelming. How can you decide on anything if your options are everything? “So say I wanted to watch The Princess Bride? I could just do it?”

Camila snickers. “Unfortunately, yes. We have watched that movie five billion times. Ballpark estimate.”

When I was a kid, my mother and I used to watch The Princess Bride at least once a month. It was our favorite movie to watch together. My father started teasingly calling me Princess Buttercup (or Princess for short). My greatest fear used to be of six-fingered men—until I found out my mother had cancer, and I found out there were a lot of things to be afraid of beyond men with the wrong number of fingers. After she was gone, my father never called me Princess again.