I hung up, walked into the kitchen, and grabbed a seltzer from the fridge. It cut through the dryness in my mouth and was far more hydrating than the coffee. It didn’t have the kick of wine, and right now, I’d kill for a bottle or two, but the seltzer was what I could have.

Reaching in my pocket, I pulled out the shiny new First Meeting coin and did something I’d never done before. I called my sponsor, Mark.

45 HIM

45

HIM

NOW

Saturday, March 19, 2022

10:00 p.m.

Outside your apartment building, I stared up at the light from your corner unit. You’d not been home tonight. Where had you been? You went to your meeting on Seminary Avenue today and stayed longer than you normally did. Most times when you made a meeting, you were late, rushing in five minutes after the start time. But today, you’d been early, waiting at the door when the meeting coordinator, a tall, lean guy in his midthirties, got there to unlock the door. You’d helped him with one of the bags in his hand, you’d shared a joke, and you’d vanished inside. You’d stayed past the regular end time and walked out with the same coordinator. He’d hugged you, held you close.

The longer your body lingered close—too close—to his, the more my anger grew. Whatever was going on between you two looked like it was far beyond the realm of professional, and I didn’t like it one bit. Many men who went into counseling weren’t the most mentally healthy individuals. They carried their own demons that they struggled to control. Someone like that would think nothing of taking advantage of a pretty woman who’d had a rough couple of months. It wasn’t right.

I should’ve been the one taking care of you. I should’ve been the one to take you home from the hospital and nurse you back to health. The accident had been just that. An accident. I’d not meant to hurt you. I would never have done that.

But your sister had been a guard dog at your hospital room, keeping a watchful eye on anyone who came and went. And when you were discharged, your sister took you to her own home and kept you there for a week.

When you finally returned to your apartment, I’d kept a close eye on you, but I’d not approached. I wanted to make sure your amnesia was indeed permanent. And if your memory loss was the real deal, I needed to plan for our second chance.

I’d screwed up the first time. Been too anxious. Too ready to show you how much I loved you. And you’d freaked.

Just like Clare had panicked all those years ago. I’d not wanted to hurt her, either. I’d loved her. Loved you both.