Page 56 of It's a Date (Again)

“It is.” He grins at me. “And it’s what you always order.”

I’m not sure if I should groan or be happy about that. I keep doing the same things I would have done with my memories. Like ordering the same dish. Picking the same coffee shop. Saying the same things. Maybe I don’t have to worry that I’ll make the wrong choice when it comes to figuring out which man I love. Even without my memories, I’m still me. It’s like my essence—my personality and soul—has remained intact. But should I really be trying to do and say the same things? Doing all that has led me down a path of fling-y relationships, serial dating, and the inability to love and be loved.

I shrug. “Guess I’ll have to try something new then.”

Robbie gives me a peculiar look but doesn’t say anything.

The waitress sets two glasses of water in front of each of us. “Ready to order?” she asks in a high-pitched, cheery voice.

Robbie gestures to me.

I order the chicken dip sandwich. Time to switch it up. He orders a cheeseburger and a pilsner beer.

“Anything else?” she asks.

“Yeah, let’s start with the cheese curds too,” I say, handing over the menu.

She jots down our order and tells us she’ll be right back with the drink.

Robbie peers over his glass as he sips his water. “So, you had a date today?”

“I did. With Nash.”

“The chef?”

“That’s the one.”

“And?” Robbie raises his brows. “Is he a top contender?”

“He could be.” My eyes jump around the restaurant before landing back on Robbie. “He’s really sweet and thoughtful, but I don’t know him all that well yet.”

“Well, that’s going to be true for all of them at this point, right?”

I nod and sip my water.

“Did you get the feeling you knew him well before the accident?”

The server returns, setting the beer in front of Robbie and a basket of cheese curds in the center of the table. She leaves us with a smile. Robbie plucks a cheese curd from the basket and dunks it into the aioli. I watch him as he waits for the excess sauce to drip off before popping it into his mouth. He moans quietly as he chews, savoring the flavor.

“Maybe,” I say, eating a curd. “But then again, maybe not.”

Robbie drinks his beer and surveys me over the rim of his glass like he’s appraising my answer. “Who’s your strongest connection?”

“I’ve only had a date with Nash so far and an impromptu lunch with Tyler. My date with Shawn is Friday night, and tomorrow night is my actual date with Tyler. At this point, I guess I’d have to say Tyler.”

Robbie leans back in his seat. “Why’s that?”

I eat another cheese curd and wash it down with water, mulling over my answer. Robbie’s gaze is intense as he waits for me to speak. I don’t want to tell him I was intimate with Tyler before the accident, and I’m not sure why I don’t want him to know that. But then again, doesintimacy even equal connection? And maybe I didn’t even enjoy it. I’m going off things I don’t even remember because I have so little to base any of my feelings on.

I finally land on, “It feels easy with Tyler—or no, natural. Yeah, it feels natural, comfortable.” Does it really feel easy or natural? What even is easy or natural? I don’t know anymore.

Robbie furrows his brow, and his gaze veers to the right of me.

“Speak of the devil,” he says.

I turn my head, following his line of sight. Standing at the bar, dressed in blue jeans, workman boots, and a flannel shirt is Tyler. His long hair is hidden under a black beanie, and he’s surrounded by a couple of large guys in similar attire. They must have all come from work.

“First round’s on me,” Tyler says, slapping two twenties against the bar. The bartender slides four pints of beer toward Tyler and his friends. The guys cheers one another. Someone must have said something funny because they crack up laughing before extinguishing their laughter with a gulp of their drinks.

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