Help Me Remember (Rose Canyon, #1)(24)

“What are your plans for the day?”

“Spencer is picking me up so we can head to Portland.”

“You sure you’re up for that?”

I can feel the censure through the phone. “Yes, and even if I wasn’t, I’d be going anyway. How are things at the store? Anything from the insurance company?”

My mother has only three great loves in her life: her children, my father, and her art store. She’s lost my brother and almost lost me, my father, and I don’t know if she can endure another.

“I spoke with the insurance adjuster, and he is putting the claim in today so I know what will be covered. In the meantime, I have the water mitigation people here, and Bruno is trying to salvage what he can. I just can’t afford to lose everything.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to rebuild it,” I try to reassure her.

“I hope so. I put so much into it over the last five years. Selling repurposed wine bottles isn’t easy, but we’ve done so much to make each piece unique. I can’t replicate what we’ve lost.”

I know that feeling. “Maybe you can’t replace it, but you can make something even better.”

Mom sighs. “Yes, but I also hate having to deal with this when I should be there with you.”

She forgets she would have left in four days, so it isn’t as if she’d planned to stay much longer anyway. “It’s okay, really. Besides, I have Addy here until the end of the week, and Spencer and I will be working through my past. If I needed you here, I would tell you.”

“Yeah right.” Mom laughs.

“Okay, I normally wouldn’t, but this time, I would.”

There’s a knock on my door, and I jump up. “I have to go, Mom. Spencer is here.”

“Be careful, Brie. I love you very much.”

“I love you too.”

“Call me tonight and let me know how things went.”

“I will. I love you.”

We hang up, and I rush to the door, ready to see Spencer.

“Hey.”

He smiles. “Hey, you look happy.”

“I slept really well.”

“Good.”

He extends a breakfast sandwich, which I take gleefully. “You are a lifesaver.”

“It’s just breakfast.”

“Yes, but . . . I don’t have anything I don’t have to cook, and I am starving.”

“Well, we all know that you and the kitchen are not a match.”

I roll my eyes. “You set the stove on fire one time and you get labeled a hazard.”

One brow lifts. “One time? Try four.”

“I have no memory of that,” I say with a grin. I definitely remember them all, but this memory thing could play in my favor at least once.

Spencer laughs. “Are you ready, or do you want to eat first?”

“I was thinking . . .”

“Never a good sign.”

I ignore him and continue. “I think you should go through the apartment with me. There are clues here, we all know that, but I am too emotional to look at things like you do.”

“And how is that?”

“Like everything is a puzzle you need to put together to see the whole picture. I need you to help me find the pieces, and I’ll see if I can assemble them. You’re like the Yoda of reporters, and the things you uncovered were so out of left field no one else saw them. Maybe there’s something here that points to what happened that I’d overlook but you wouldn’t.”

Spencer nods. “And if there’s nothing here?”

“Well . . .” I fidget, considering my next comment carefully before I say, “Then maybe you can help me figure out who I was seeing before . . .” I gesture to my head and glance away.

“What makes you think you were seeing someone?” he asks.

“Because the cigar thing and then, under my bathroom sink, I found a box of . . .” I am hoping he won’t make me say it because that would be mortifying.

“A box of? Tampons? Pads? What?”

I hate him sometimes. I groan. “Condoms. And it is open and some are missing.”

He laughs and then turns his head.

“You ass! You knew what I was trying not to say!” I scold him.

“I had a guess, but it was really fun watching you try not to turn beet red. Valiant effort on your part.”

Seriously, why do I like this man at all? It makes no sense. Okay, it does. He is insanely attractive, confident, and commands any room he walks into. Spencer can look at you, see more than anyone else, and never judge.

“Anyway, it’s just a few things here and there that make me wonder if there is someone, even if just casually.”

Spencer grabs his pocket notebook and writes something down.

“What are you writing?” I ask.

“I’m making notes of things you mention or do, which I’ll likely be doing often. I think you should do the same. Even if you think something is irrelevant, you should write it down because it might actually be important. Then, when we agree it’s time, we’ll compare notes and see what we find, okay?”

“You want me to write notes about a box of condoms?” I ask with a brow raised.

“Ha. Ha. No, I want you to write down things you see, remember, think about. The more information we have to go over, the better.”