I lean my chin on my other hand and grin. “No, you haven’t mentioned it. Maybe you should tell me all about it.”
His gaze snags mine, and I suddenly feel heat creeping up my cheeks at the intensity. “I am so damn happy, Abigail, that you walked right back into my life.” He leans over and presses a kiss to my cheek. My face is probably flaming by now. “I didn’t know how much I needed you until you were here.”
I take the last bite of my soup and suddenly yawn. “I’m so sorry,” I rush to say over my rude yawn. “I’m still not quite up to snuff.”
“You should go back to bed. It’ll take a few days before you get over it and feel better.” He leans over and tests my forehead again. “Cool as a cucumber,” he says.
“Gran still says that.” I grin at him.
“Ma does too.” He gets up and takes the dishes to the sink to wash them. “And you shouldn’t overdo it. Get your behind back in bed.” He shoos me with his hands toward the bedroom. “Go on. Get.”
“I thought we were going to play UNO,” I complain.
He stares at me in that way he does when he’s really thinking hard about something—one eye open and one closed. He sighs. “One hand,” he says. “One. Then you need to rest.”
He very quickly washes the dishes while I go and get the UNO cards out of my keepsake box.
“Oh, I remember that box,” he says as he looks over my shoulder in the bedroom. “Your grandfather made it, right?”
I nod, gently running my fingers over the engraved name on the top. He’d carved it himself. “It’s the only thing I took with me when I left Charles.” I look into his eyes. “It was the only thing that matters.”
“Why are the UNO cards in there?” he asks, as he sees me retrieve the pack.
Now I really do blush. Heat floods my face. “That’s just where I left them.”
“Why are you lying?”
“I’m not lying.”
He closes one eye, and I know he’s serious about whatever he’s trying to figure out. “Yes, you are.” He points a finger at me. “I know you, Abigail Marshall. I know when you’re lying.”
He’s right. He does know me. I may not have seen him for many years, but I feel like no time has passed at all. “That summer, after your dad died…”
His brow furrows but he says nothing.
“…and you didn’t come back to the lake…” I stop to clear my throat. “I put the card deck and your Monopoly piece in my memory box.”
“Why did you do that?” he whispers.
This time, it’s me who shrugs. “I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.”
I reach into my memory box and pull out his favorite Monopoly piece. I hold it up so he can see it in my palm. He always wanted to use the man on the horse. I always picked the iron.
“You put my piece away?” he says quietly.
“I didn’t want to play with anybody else.” I curl my hand around the game piece and hold it tightly for a moment. Then I return it to my box. I’m not ready to let it go yet. “I still don’t.”
Suddenly, he reaches for me, pulling me tight against him. His arms wrap around me and he squeezes me hard. I wrap my arms around his trim waist and hold on as tight as he is. “Thank you,” he says.
“For what?” This time, I’m the one who’s confused.
“For remembering who I used to be and not just judging me for who I am right now.” He squeezes me one last time and then sets me away from him.
My eyes are suddenly wet, and I blink hard to brush the tears away. “I liked who you were then, and I like who you are now.” I shake my head. “You’re still the same person, Ethan, even if you don’t feel like it.” I lay my hand on his arm. “You feel exactly the same to me.” I gently tickle his abs. “Except now you got this washboard stomach, my God!” I laugh as he tries to wiggle away from my fingers. “No, stop! I’ve been wanting to touch them for so long!” I’m teasing. Sort of. They really are a thing of wonder.
He grabs my hand, laughing as he shoves my probing fingers away. “Stop it,” he complains, but I can tell he