Page 2 of That Reunited Feeling

“Um, yes.”

My attempt to squish the crown jewels into one hand isn’t going well.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

You’d think someone encountering a naked man in the hallway of a house that isn’t theirs would be less persistent.

“Visiting.” I keep a firm hold of the goods with both hands and jab at the door handle with my elbow. But it’s a knob, not a handle, so that’s achieving nothing but future bruises.

The woman plants her hands on her hips and tilts what I now realize is an incredibly cute face. An incredibly cute face that awakens a tingling of familiarity at the back of my aching brain.

Holy shit.

It can’t be. It reallycan’tbe.

Those big blue eyes…

They might have fine lines at the corners and darker circles under them, but the spark behind them is the same.

The slightly upturned elfin nose.

The dimple as she purses her lips at me.

But itcan’tbe. Why would she be here? In Maggie and Jim’s house that’s in a small village about fifty miles and years away from our old lives in Boston?

Maybe I’m hallucinating. Maybe therewaspaint stripper in that wine. Or maybe someone sneaked in during the night and hit me over the head multiple times with a brick.

My eyes slide down to the hand resting on her right hip.

Fucking hell.

There it is. The tattooed star in the crook between her thumb and forefinger. An exact match for one on the right hand currently cupping my gonads.

Am I hot? Or am I cold? Is my heart racing? Or has it stopped? Am I still asleep and dreaming? Or nightmaring?

“Hannah?” It feels like forever since that name crossed my lips.

“Congratulations.” She gives me a slow clap. “Obviously I know you’d forgotten about me. But I never imagined it would take you that long to recognize me.”

“Forgotten?” Why the hell would she think that? “I’ve not forgo–”

“Why are you here?”

“Why amIhere? This is my aunt and uncle’s house. Why areyouhere?”

“I work here.”

“What?” This might be less confusing if I had clothes on. Though probably not by much.

“I’m the housekeeper.”

What the fuck? My high school girlfriend, my first love, is my aunt and uncle’s housekeeper?

“I’m sorry,what?” This couldn’t be harder to figure out if a truck were driving back and forth over my brain, making that annoying backing-up beeping noise. “Since when?”

“Couple months ago. Just temporary. Till I move to LA.”

“LA? Why would you move to LA? Why would anyone move to LA? LA is hell on earth. I wouldn’t move to LA if it was the only land mass left on the planet. I’d rather take my chances bobbing around in the ocean. Surrounded by sharks.”

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