She frowns. “You know what’s weird? I love that cheesecake. It seems like the only things I don’t know, can’t remember, are so personal. Like the simple, easy stuff comes back faster. Is that how amnesia is?”
My tongue flicks against my teeth, assessing my choice of words. I can’t see any good relaying what Cash told me.
“Don’t know, Val,” I answer honestly. “It’s freaky shit. Cash said there’s plenty they still don’t know about how the human mind spins its hamsters in their wheels.”
She rolls her eyes. “So helpful. Wish I had my cell phone, I’d just Google it.”
The muscles in my neck tighten. The last thing she needs is to start Googling things on her own.
When I’d left this morning because we ran out of pain relievers and I thought she might need them after her sleepless night, I’d given her Bryce’s old phone. I’d bought him a new one a few months ago.
It only took a few minutes to wipe the data and install some new apps. The only number I’d programmed in was mine.
I also installed a logging app in the background to help me see what the hell she’s dredging up.
Yeah, yeah, dick move. Like I told Cash, this smoke and mirrors shit isn’t easy.
Part of me feels like a royal ass, keeping her from so much, but it’s all for her safety. I can’t risk her freaking out, finding out who she’s related to, and blabbing where she is.
That’s the lie I keep telling myself.
I swallow a sigh. When all this shit’s finally over, I’m gonna need a priest and a bartender to help get my morals sorted again.
“That reminds me, what’s up with the old phone?” Val asks, flipping her hair gingerly away from the bandaged spot on her head. “Did it get lost in the accident? The one you left for me this morning seems like a backup.”
I hesitate. “Yeah, sorry I forgot to mention it. We’ll get you a better one soon.”
“I hope I saved all my contacts somewhere. Maybe they’re backed up on my computer or something if I let my accounts sync.” She’s frowning again. “I do have a laptop or something, don’t I?”
Goddamn. That screaming sound you hear is my lead balloon going down in flames.
This isn’t gonna work.
I can’t keep piling up one lie after the next. There are too many simple, everyday things that just aren’t there, that don’t make sense.
This chick’s got a brain to go along with her glitter. She’s too smart, and sooner or later, she’ll catch me with my tongue tied, and I damn well won’t be able to talk my way out of it.
“Oh, jeez. I…don’t tell me my computer was on the boat too?”
Christ.
I huff out a breath, nodding briskly. “Unfortunately. Surprised it wasn’t physically bolted to your fingers.”
“Oh? Why’s that?” She smiles, intensifying the urge to find a nice big sinkhole to throw myself in. “Keeping up with my busy tour schedule?”
“You guessed it. That and your Pinterest account. You’re a real Hulu fiend sometimes, too.”
“Awesome. I was wondering when I’d figure out my quirks.” Her pearly white teeth peek out of her lips. “But, wait. Couldn’t I just do most of that stuff from my phone? Did I really need to haul my computer around everywhere?”
I shrug. “I never questioned anything. It was your business, honey, and you ran it just the way you wanted.”
That gets a laugh. “Smart man, Flint.”
Fucking hardly.
Sometimes I think all my brains were used up in my own business years ago.
“Well, whatever. I’ll just use your computer to look up amnesia when we get home,” she says and turns, gazing out the window at the ever-changing landscape.
I don’t respond.
By the time we get home, I hope like hell I’ll have figured out how to deal with her latest plans.
Actually, screw it, I’ll just Google everything for her, assuming she doesn’t put up a fuss.
That way, I know she won’t look up anything risky.
We drive on for a few more miles. I’m grateful for the quiet. Val just admires the view, wearing a soft, serene expression.
Meanwhile, I’m praying she stays that way. I think about a lot of crap. Heavy, tortured, cringe-inducing shit.
I wonder what I did to deserve this, driving a forgetful chick who isn’t really my wife, trying not to let my cock cut in on my thoughts every time my eyes flick to her pretty face, the ivory curve of her neck, the all-too-fuckable plumpness of her hips.
Mostly, I keep wondering if there’s a big enough bar of soap in the world to rinse off my dirty, lying tongue. And possibly my eyes.
* * *
Once we get to the food truck, I tell her to wait behind in the air-conditioned comfort while I grab our food. We’ll eat at a beach I know nearby.