She thought back to their phone call. The sound of his voice, his Mainer accent, had been so reassuring, the dropped r’s as familiar as the sound of waves rolling ashore. Lobstah. Satahday. Chowdah.

She frowned, the memory of the call digging in deeper. The conversation was fuzzy. He’d seemed out of sorts, but she couldn’t remember exactly what he’d said.

What if she had a brain injury? She was going to have to go to the hospital, she just knew it. Anxiety swelled inside. She was suddenly eight years old and sitting alone by her mother’s hospital bed. A machine beeped quietly, keeping track of her heartbeats.

Until it stopped altogether.

Lucy’s heart pounded at the memory, making her headache worse. The hospital felt like death. Smelled like death. But she would have to go.

You won’t die, Lucy. What is the matter with you?

She didn’t have the time or mental capacity to answer that question. And why could she remember something that happened sixteen years ago when she couldn’t remember putting on her wedding gown only hours ago?

“Lucy?”

She turned at the deep timbre of Zac’s voice. Her heart soared at the sight of his familiar face. His strong, masculine features, the sharp turn of his jaw. She knew every curve and angle by heart. She frowned at the sight of his short beard. His black hair was longer than she remembered too, a thick curl falling over his forehead.

Shaking the confusion, she jumped up and took a step toward him, eager for the safety of his arms. But the world tilted, and she stumbled sideways on the walkway.

Zac sped to her side, catching her by the elbows. “What are you doing?”

She winced at the gruffness in his voice. Her grip tightened on his forearms. She blinked away the dizziness and stared into his gray eyes, wishing she could see more clearly. He felt stiff and sounded cold. Not at all like her Zac.

“Zac . . . I’m so glad to see you. Will you take me home? Please?”

“Just sit down for now.” He eased her back until she hit the bench, letting go as soon as she was seated.

She looked down at the dress, clutching the frothy material. Their wedding day was ruined. Completely ruined. After all that work.

Sudden tears clogged her throat, filled her eyes. “You weren’t supposed to see me yet.”

Not until she came down the aisle. There was supposed to be awestruck wonder on his face. It was a bride’s right, for gosh sakes. She’d wanted the altar lights on just to be sure she caught a glimpse of his expression.

She frowned at the thought. The chapel was in Summer Harbor, and she was in Portland. It was all so confusing. She rubbed her temple. “I’m afraid I’m a bit befuddled.”

“Where’d you hit your head?”