***
Present Day
“I can’t wait to get drunk,” Lizzy calls from my bathroom, where she’s putting on her makeup. “Are you going to get drunk with me or are you still obsessing about calories?”
“I might drink some.” I force a smile.
I guess if I’m going to keep the body I spent the last year finding, I’ll need to keep some of the new habits Lizzy finds so annoying. But right now I’m too worried about potentially being a cheating bitch to give my habits—new or old—much thought. Anyway, Dr. Perkins seemed to think I shouldn’t be counting calories. Though I’m not sure a pitcher of daiquiris is what she had in mind either.
Truth be told, I’m terrified to go to this party. What if I run into Mr. Hulk Tattoo? What if he outs our relationship—or whatever it was—to everyone? But I can’t spend the rest of my life hiding in my apartment, so I’m going.
“Is Max coming?”
I shake my head. “He has a late client and can’t make it.”
Lizzy flips her head upside down and adds some sort of magic curling goo to it. “You know what I’d like?” she asks as she scrunches handfuls of hair.
I plug in my flat iron and lean against the doorframe while I wait for it to warm. “What would you like?”
“One hot fucking night with Nate Crane.”
I nearly choke on my tongue laughing. “Asher’s rocker friend?”
“What? Maggie has Asher. Why can’t I have Nate?” She flips her head back up and wriggles her eyebrows at me. “Tell me you wouldn’t sacrifice everything to have a night of dirty, no-holds-barred sex with Mr. Rock God.”
I just shrug. “I have Max.”
She rolls her eyes. “Right. Max and Mr. Hulk Tattoo, meaning you got more sexy male ass last night than I’ve had in the last six months. Yet another reason I deserve a night with Crane. I’m the only one around here who isn’t getting any.”
“Poor thing.”
“You have no idea. Max can’t keep his hands off you.”
I frown at my reflection and run my finger along my newly defined jawline. Max can’t keep his hands off me. I wonder if that started before or after I lost the weight.
She digs through my makeup bag. “So any revelations about last night’s mystery visitor?”
“None.” Stupid amnesia.
“Well, I vote that he was some nut job. You should really call the cops. The guy’s probably stalking you or something.”
“I don’t think I want to do that. Not yet.”
“But you’re going to tell Max, aren’t you?”
Anxiety lodges like a wet ball in my throat. “I just want to have more information before I tell him anything.”
“Hanna, this is serious. I saw a 60 Minutes episode once about a guy who imagined he had this whole relationship with the woman he was stalking. He watched her all the time, so in his mind they were together. Then she started dating someone and the dude flipped out and pulled a gun on him.”
I turn and she’s staring at me, worry in her bright blue eyes. I don’t know how to explain to her that my heart told me I could trust this guy. “There’s too much we don’t know. I don’t want to screw things up with Max for nothing. I need to get some facts straight. That’s all.”
“Okay.” Her eyes brim with tears. She lunges forward and wraps her arms around me. “I’ve missed this.”
“What?”
“My sister. I’ve missed talking about things. Confiding in each other. You have no idea how lonely it’s been for me these last few months.”
“I hope I never have to find out,” I whisper, and she squeezes me even harder.