Chapter 32
“Wow. There are a lot of people here.” Abigail clung to Simeon’s hand as they wove through the crowds surging into Founder’s Park as dusk fell around them.
Simeon turned to grin at her. “Yeah, tickets sold out weeks ago. Good thing we’re family.”
“I guess so.” Abigail had been listening to Lydia’s songs, but this was her first time seeing her in concert—that she remembered—and she’d had no idea that her sister-in-law was so famous.
“There’s Joseph.” Simeon pointed to his brother, who was waving both arms over his head from the front row of seats that had been set up in the grassy area in front of the stage. It took a little more weaving and jostling, but they finally made their way to the section the entire Calvano family had already claimed.
“Abigail.” Ava wrapped her in a hug, followed by Ireland, whose baby bump was just starting to show.
“Look at you.” Abigail couldn’t help gushing. “I have your blanket almost done. And then I’ll start on yours,” she promised Ava.
Would she someday be knitting one for her own baby?
The question flashed briefly through her mind, but she didn’t let herself dwell on it. She was content with where things were in her relationship with Simeon right now. It was way too soon to think about children.
“Do you want anything to drink?” Simeon’s breath whispered over her shoulder, and Abigail shook her head but let herself lean back into him. Both Ava and Ireland grinned at them.
“Good evening.” From the stage, a man Abigail didn’t recognize called out to the crowd.
“That’s Harrison Bemis,” Simeon whispered as they took their seats. “He organizes Builders for the Kingdom projects. If Liam had waited any longer to ask Lydia out, I’m pretty sure Harrison would have asked her.”
Abigail nodded, glancing down the row. She spotted Liam’s teenage daughter Mia but not Liam. “Where is he?” she asked.
“Managing the lighting, I’m sure. Or sneaking a last-minute kiss.” Simeon snuck his own kiss onto Abigail’s lips, and she laughed, resting her head on his shoulder.
She hadn’t looked at the laptop once all week, and putting it away was the best thing she could have done. With some distance from the story, she could see that it had been absurd to think it could be her memoir. And that had allowed her to accept that she might never know her past. To focus on moving forward.
With Simeon.
She impulsively lifted her head to kiss his cheek.
He turned to her with a surprised smile. “What was that for?”
She shrugged. “I’m just happy.”
“Good.” His look said that if there weren’t hundreds of people around them right now, he’d pull her in for one of those deep kisses that left her feeling lightheaded and safely anchored all at once.
Around them, the crowd broke out in wild cheers, and Abigail turned to see her sister-in-law gliding onto the stage. The music started, and Lydia’s resonant alto launched into a ballad.
As the concert continued, Abigail couldn’t decide if she was glowing more from the music or from Simeon’s arm around her, but she supposed it didn’t matter. She would just let herself soak up this night.
At the end of the first set, Ireland stood to slide past them. “Sorry. Need to use the restroom.”
“I’ll go with you.” Abigail pushed to her feet as well. “Be right back.” She squeezed Simeon’s shoulder on her way past.
“I’ll miss you.” Simeon gave her a goofy, lopsided grin.
“Aw, you two are so adorable,” Ireland said as they started toward the restrooms.
All Abigail could do was grin and nod.
Fortunately, they made it to the restroom ahead of the crowd, but by the time Abigail had washed her hands, the small room had filled, and there was nowhere left to stand.
She’d have to wait for Ireland outside.
She stepped out the door and moved away from the building to leave room for the line that had formed. Bugs flitted in the lights above, but fortunately they’d left her alone so far. She let her gaze go higher, to the stars sparkling against the dark backdrop of the sky, a smile tickling her lips as she thought of the night she and Simeon had lain out under them.
Something solid bumped against her, and Abigail took an involuntary step backwards, bringing her gaze back to earth.
“Oh, Abigail. I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you.” Wendy stood in front of her, smoothing the cropped tank top she wore along with a pair of denim shorts that showed off her legs.
“That’s okay,” Abigail mumbled. She scanned the crowd for Ireland.
“Hey, I just wanted to tell you.” Wendy grasped her arm as if they were best friends. “I’m so glad you decided not to go through with the divorce. I mean, that day you came in to get the papers, someone could have knocked me over with a feather. And then with the amnesia and all. And seeing you at the store with another man. I mean, I didn’t know what all to think.” She finally paused to take a breath, and Abigail thought of a thousand things she could say.
But her whole body seemed to have gone numb—including her tongue.
“There you are.” Ireland materialized at their side. “I thought you’d gone back to our seats, but Simeon said you never came back.” She turned to Wendy. “I’m Ireland.”
“Wendy. Nice to meet you.”
“You too. I’m sorry to interrupt your conversation, but we’d better get back before Simeon sends out a search party. I barely stopped him the way it is.” She laughed and took Abigail’s arm.
“Of course. Enjoy the rest of the concert.” Wendy waved and disappeared toward the stage. Abigail’s eyes followed her, but the crowd had already closed in around her.
“I don’t think I’ve ever met her before,” Ireland said, steering them back toward their seats. “How do you know her?”
“I don’t, really.” Abigail pressed a hand to her swirling stomach, the word divorce still tumbling through her head.
“How about some pie before we head home?” Simeon glanced to the passenger seat, where Abigail was staring out the side window. He shifted the car into reverse and waited for a young family to cross behind them.
“Do you mind if we go home?” Abigail asked, studying the family. “I have a headache.”
“Of course. Let’s go home and get you some aspirin.” A headache might explain why she’d been so quiet for the second half of the concert, though Simeon had an uneasy feeling there was more to it than that. She’d gone to the restroom completely cheerful and cuddly and returned subdued and distant. And no matter how hard he had tried, he couldn’t account for the change. In his experience, headaches didn’t strike that quickly.
“Is something else wrong?” he asked.
“No,” she answered too quickly. “It was a really nice concert. Lydia is an incredible singer.”
“She is.” Simeon stuffed down his frustration. He didn’t want to talk about the concert. He wanted to talk about her—them. About why it was that every time their relationship seemed to be moving forward, she decided to throw things into reverse.
She’d finally let go of her crazy notion that her book could reflect her real life—and now something else was holding her back.
It had been two months since the accident. The first time they’d met, they’d been engaged within three months. Shouldn’t it be faster for her to fall in love with him the second time around?
Simeon’s thoughts went to the email he’d gotten earlier today, confirming their trip to Ecuador. Tomorrow was the last day he could cancel and get any money back. He’d been holding off—at first because he’d hoped she’d get her memories back in time and they could use the trip to celebrate, and later because he’d hoped their relationship might be at a point where it made sense to take a trip together.
Earlier today, he’d thought they were there. He’d planned to ask her over pie.
But now . . .
He sighed. Maybe it was best to cancel the trip rather than lose the money. They could always go someday in the future.
Assuming she stayed with him.
He pulled into their driveway and turned off the vehicle. Abigail had closed her eyes somewhere along the drive, and she didn’t open them now. He reached to wake her, but she spoke before his hand made contact.
“Were we getting divorced?” Her whisper snapped around the vehicle, and Simeon yanked his hand back.
“What?”
“Were we getting divorced?” She turned her head to him, opening her eyes. In the faint glow that reached them from the porch light, he could see the doubt in them.
Something hot and sickly pooled in his stomach. “Why would you ask that?”
Abigail lowered her gaze to her hands, which were playing with a pen in the console between them. Simeon should wrap those hands in his, reassure her, but he couldn’t seem to move.
“I ran into Wendy at the concert.”
“Wendy,” Simeon repeated dumbly.
Abigail nodded. “She said we were getting divorced. Before the accident.”
Simeon’s fists clenched. This time Wendy had gone too far. Talking to him about things that were none of her business was one thing. But talking to his wife—that crossed a line.
“I’m so sorry she said that to you.” His voice was hard with anger, and he worked to gentle it. Abigail wasn’t the one he was angry with. “She has some . . . issues. I’ll talk to her.”
Abigail nodded, but her pleading eyes met his. “But were we? Getting divorced?”
Carefully, Simeon took her hands in his. “No,” he said firmly. “We most definitely were not getting divorced. Come on.” He released her hands. “Let’s get you inside so you can take some aspirin and go to bed.”
Abigail nodded and opened her door. Simeon took her hand as they walked to the house. Inside, he sent her upstairs, promising to be up in a minute with the medicine.
He moved to the kitchen to get it, trying to ignore the bite of his conscience. He hadn’t lied to Abigail. She may have had the divorce papers drawn up, but she had never given them to him.
Because she was in an accident and got amnesia.
All right. Maybe that was a technicality. But even if she had presented them to him, he would have refused to sign them. He would have fought for their marriage to his dying breath.
Just like he was doing now.
He palmed the medicine and grabbed a glass of water, then headed upstairs.
He knocked on the bedroom door, and she called for him to come in. She’d already changed from her ruffled sleeveless shirt into an oversized t-shirt that Simeon recognized as one that used to be his. Seeing her in it did something crazy to his brain.
“Let’s go to Ecuador,” he blurted.
“What?” Abigail looked at him as if he’d spoken a foreign language.
“I was going to surprise you for our anniversary. I’d actually bought the tickets the day of the accident. I keep meaning to cancel them, but I just can’t bring myself to do it. Because I still want to go with you.”
She looked doubtful. “Simeon, I don’t think— I mean, my memories probably won’t—”
“It’s not about getting your memories back. It’s about making new ones. Away from all of this.” He waved a hand around. “Just you and me.”
He crossed the room to pass her the water and medicine. Once she’d swallowed the pills, he took the glass from her and set it on the table, then held his hands out to her.
She set hers in them. “You really think this is a good idea?”
“I do.” He held his breath until a grin broke over Abigail’s face.
“Well, then, I guess I could handle a little vacation. If I have to.”
“Good.” Simeon pulled her to him, then dropped his head, letting his lips search out hers.
This trip would be exactly what they needed.