Epoch (Transcend Duet #2)(11)

“The usual gluttony,” he replies without making the slightest glance in my direction.

“Griffin and his dad are smoking a turkey. I’m in charge of the mashed potatoes.”

He nods once, keeping his gaze on his busy hands. I miss him. Even though I see him five out of seven days, I still miss him. And the worst fucking part … I still carry that picture of him in my pocket. It’s my dirty little secret.

It’s flat-out crazy because I can’t explain my need to have it near me or my need to stare at it for long minutes when I’m alone or out of the camera’s view.

“Are your parents coming to your house or are you going to their house?”

“Not sure.” He brushes past me with no visual acknowledgment as he lowers to the floor and kisses Morgan goodbye. “Love you, baby doll. Have a good day.”

I stare him down, silently begging for him to look at me, but he doesn’t. This shouldn’t hurt, but it does.

“Hey …” I jump up and chase after him.

He stops at the door. “Yeah?”

That’s all I wanted, just to have him look at me.

“Hey what?”

I shake my head, feeling stupid for my desperation. “Um …” I wanted him to look at me and now I can’t keep my gaze locked to his. It’s too matter-of-fact. Neutral. Impersonal.

It’s exactly what I thought I wanted.

“I was thinking of going through Morgan’s clothes. She’s outgrown a lot of them. Do you want them put in bags to sell or donate or …” I bite my lips together for a few seconds. “Do you want to save them in case you have …”

Gulp. Choke. I’m dying. All I wanted was for him to look at me and it’s careened into a train wreck.

“Have more children?”

I shrug.

“I pay you to watch Morgan. I’ll deal with her clothes and their fate.”

I nod.

“Anything else?”

“No,” I murmur.

“Okay.” He opens the door.

I grip his arm. I have no idea why. My brain has a two-second delay.

Nate stares at my hold on him a few seconds before shooting me the look. The why-the-hell-are-you-touching-me look. I crawled onto his lap and cried my eyes out. He promised to never let anything bad happen to me. And now we’re here in this cold existence.

Yank your arm out of my hold, Nate. Reprimand me for crossing a line. Tell me you’re just obeying my wishes. Do anything. Say anything. But don’t just look at me, frozen in place, submitting to my touch.

I suck in one breath after another, each time hoping the right words will spill from my mouth, but every inhale dies in a wasted exhale of nothingness. Right now my feelings don’t have words, so I release him.

After a few more seconds of silence, I turn and go back to Morgan. The thunk of the door sounds behind me.

*

The next few days I spend all of Morgan’s nap time staring at the photo of Nate. Sometimes I keep it in my book instead of in my pocket. If he’s monitoring the video feed, all he sees is the book, not the photo I keep shifting from page to page like a bookmark.

This heightened fucked-up-ness spurs me to make an appointment with Dr. Greyson.

*

“It’s been awhile,” I state the obvious before Dr. Greyson gets the chance.

“I’m here when you need me.” He leans back, hands folded in his lap.

“Thank you. Can I just throw everything out on the table and let you figure out how to piece it all together?”

A tiny grin graces his face. “I can’t promise to piece anything together, but I’m here to listen and help in any way I can.”

I sigh, readying myself for the big spill. “I’m engaged to Griffin.” I hold up my hand so he can see my ring.

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks. I love him. I’m happy with him. He’s my dream come true. I love his family. I love that his family loves me and even my mom. Our moms have lunch together. They’re genuine friends. We’re planning a spring wedding. I want a hundred babies with Griffin.”

Dr. Greyson lifts a single brow.

“Okay, maybe like four … but you get what I mean. My relationship with my mom has greatly improved. She’s living again, not just grieving my father’s death. And she’s even started taking photos again.”

I pause to catch my breath.

“It sounds like things are going well for you.”

“I know, right? It’s the perfect life. What more could I possibly want or need?”

He nods. “I sense there’s more. Maybe the true reason for your visit?”

“It’s Nathaniel Hunt. I know this feels like a conflict of interest. I’m not sure he even still sees you. I haven’t asked. But here’s the issue: He thinks I’m the reincarnation of his childhood friend. The things I told you I know about him? He thinks it’s because I’m his friend Daisy. I didn’t believe this for the longest time because I didn’t remember her, only him. How could I be her and not remember her? It makes no sense.”

Dr. Grayson leans forward and steeples his fingers. Things are serious since we’re already at steepled fingers.

“The problem is … I’ve had these memories or flashbacks of her. And I say her because I still don’t connect her to me. But the only logical explanation for these memories and my knowledge of this time before I—Swayze—was born is that I’m her. So …” I sigh. “I honestly believe I’m her.”