Page 25 of Amnesia

“Eddie?” Amnesia asked, pushing up into a sitting position. She looked rumpled and tired, dark circles beneath her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Brought you some breakfast,” I answered off hand. “What’s wrong?”

Her eyes drifted toward the items in my hands. “The nurses didn’t try and stop you?”

“They tried,” I said, hooking my foot around the leg of the chair and dragging it across the room beside her bed.

“They’re going to be mad.” She frowned.

I paused. “Do you want me to go?”

Her reply was instantaneous. “No.”

Warmth suffused my chest. “Then don’t worry about it. I’ll make sure no one’s mad.”

Her eyes seemed like saucers in her face. “Everything’s okay out there? In the hall?”

Resisting the urge to frown, I set the box and cups on her bedside table. “Everything is fine. You gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

“What did you bring me?” she asked, peeking at the treats.

I went with it because her voice sounded more like it did yesterday, and the color in her cheeks seemed to be getting warmer. I’d get my answers even if I had to sit here all day.

“Bananas.” I teased her because I wanted to see her smile.

It worked. “I think I’ve changed my mind. You should leave.” She teased.

“You would dismiss me so effortlessly?” I asked, feigning sadness.

“Bananas are no joking matter.”

Chuckling, I held out the cup. “Hot chocolate. Extra whipped cream.”

Taking it, she wrapped her hands around the heated cup and sighed a little. I noticed the goose bumps along her bare arms.

Her brown eyes shifted up to mine. “I don’t know if I like hot chocolate.”

“Give it a go.” I gestured, my heart squeezing just a little.

Tenderness swelled within me as Amnesia tentatively tilted the cup to her lips, allowing the warm, rich liquid to coat her tongue.

Her eyes shot to mine the second she tasted the concoction. She went back for a second sip. Then she smiled. “Yes.”

I sat down, pleased. “I would’ve had serious doubts about you if you didn’t like it.”

“What else you got?”

“Fresh from the bakery… monkey bread muffins.”

She shrugged. “I have no idea what that is.”

Flipping the lid over, I reached in and snatched a pastry out of the box, holding it out to her. She studied it cautiously, as if she really thought I was trying to somehow turn it into a banana. When she finally reached out for it, I snatched my hand back and took a huge bite right off the top.

“Hey!” she demanded.

“You snooze, ya lose,” I said, chewing obnoxiously. With a sound of extreme pleasure, I took another huge bite. Then I retrieved a second muffin and handed it over.

She took it, studying the lumpy top that glistened with glaze and was dotted with cinnamon and raisins. It looked huge in her hand.

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