Chapter 43
Forty-Three
I stare down at another text I haven’t responded to. What do I say though? How do I answer?
Zev: It isn’t your fault.
Zev: I should have said that before.
Zev: When you apologized for my pain. That isn’t your fault.
Zev: We’ve both had our burdens to bear. Yours are worse. I know that.
I want to tell him it isn’t a competition. I want to tell him I’m still sorry. I want him to understand that I don’t want to be the cause of anyone’s pain—purposefully or not.
But I type nothing.
“You keep looking at that phone like it might come to life and bite you,” Grammy says. She tilts her head. “Or maybe like it might kiss you.”
I shove the device between my thighs until it presses into the couch I sit on. “No, I’m not.”
“You’ve never been a very good liar, Rosalie. It’s your grandfather in you. So much goodness.” Grammy struts over and sits next to me, her side flush to mine. “Is it Zevulun?”
I gulp. “I’ve caused him a lot of pain.”
“Pish posh,” Grammy says, simply waving away my guilt, as if it were that easy. “The situation has caused him pain. Not you.”
“It’s caused everyone pain.” I shake my head, feeling guilt for something so wholly out of my control.
Grammy nods. “It has. But I’d wager it’s caused Zev the most.”
I scoff—I can’t help it. I’m the one with a broken brain.
“And you, of course,” she says. “But while you’ve been left in the dark, he’s been left alone.”
I sigh. “I don’t know how to fix that, Grammy. I can’t snap my fingers and remember. Believe me, I would if I could. I’d do anything to remember.”
She loops her arm through mine. “Dearest,” she says, her tone motherly and patient. “Before you found out that he knew you previous to your memory loss, how were you feeling about him?”
I squirm a little in my seat, the corner of my cell digging into my thigh.
“Well, I liked him. But how can I be sure that I really liked him, or did I like the persona he was putting on for me? Did he read a romance book because he likes romance or just to have something to talk to me about? I’m unsure about everything now. ”
“Zevulun quite enjoys romance. He and I had a private little book club, just the two of us for a time.”
My brows cinch. “You did?”
“Oh yes. I believe he’s a fan of the friends-to-more trope. My personal favorite is marriage of convenience, but Zev always said that one was too far-fetched for him.” Grammy rolls her eyes, like this is a perfectly normal conversation we’re having.
“Fine.” I shake my head, certain I have a point. “Even if he does like romance books, I don’t know how to trust my feelings. I don’t know if they are sincere or the remnants of one soul longing for another.”
“Darling.” Grammy threads her fingers through mine. “If you can’t trust your soul, then what can you trust? Maybe your mind doesn’t remember our Zevulun. But your soul does—and if anything is worth trusting, it’s that.”
Me: Can you gather our friends? I have some questions, and I think I’m ready to ask them.
Fran: Our friends?
Me: Yes, Fran. As in, the soccer players, the women I don’t remember. Just a few people who you feel have played an important role in my life in the last year or two.
Fran: One second… processing… rereading.
Fran: Just double-checking: Those you didn’t remember, too?
Me: Yes. (Thanks for that double check.)
Fran: Your family?
Me: Just friends this time. I’ve been asking Mom and Dad questions already.
Fran: Wow. You have. Okay then. Let’s do this.
Fran: The guys are out of town for games until Sunday.
Me: That’s fine. I need a few days to collect my questions and thoughts.
Fran: Sounds good. I’ll get it ready.
Fran: Rose… Am I right to assume that Zev is included in this group?
Me: Is he someone who’s played an important role in my life the last year or two?
Fran: A very important role.
Me: Then invite him.
For the record, I knew Zev was on that list. I need Zev there.