He smiles. “I swear all the time.”
“You never swear. You say Jesus, but it’s more like you’re praying. And you say other Ned Flanders–like swear words. Gosh diddly dang and all of that.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “I do not. Who’s Ned?”
“From The Simpsons.” I roll my eyes, clicking my glass against his. “I like you back. Stay out of my personal shit, weirdo. I’m glad you stole my purse, and I’m happy you’re here.”
“Then we don’t need to talk about it anymore?”
I shake my head, praying we never have to talk about it again. He drinks, but his eyes are fixed on me. I cut into my chicken, moaning at the perfection of Emily’s cooking. He moans when he bites his too. “Who made this?”
“My neighbor. She’s awesome. The only family I really have in the world.”
He nods, savoring the flavors. “Tell me how you figured out that you needed to take positive memories in with you, even if they were fabricated.”
He’s the doctor behind the science so I tell him, even though I’m sure it won’t be nearly as fascinating as he’s hoping. And all it’s going to do is make me look like a psycho. We both know I am, a little—I wouldn’t have qualified for the program if I weren’t. “When I got inside the first person’s head, my life melded with theirs. I wasn’t prepared to share so much with a stranger. I know you don’t know me super well, but I don’t like to share. I don’t like talking about things. It makes me uncomfortable, but you can’t go inside without giving something away. Seeing how sad my life was, little orphan Jane Doe, I created a new one. I got Angie to hypnotize me, but I never told her who the real people were who made up the memories. She knew she was my boss in all things. Rory was my partner. But Derek, the delightful doctor I created, was a mystery. I never told anyone who he was.” I narrow my gaze. “How did you know it was you?”
He shakes his head. “I just did. I saw the description of him and knew. I’m from the East Coast but look like I’m from the West Coast. I’m a fitness freak, or whatever you called it. I’m always trying to stay positive. I drive a silver Mercedes.” He glances down. “And I think you must have known, deep down, how I felt about you.”
I swallow hard.
“You must have known subconsciously that I was in love with you.” He looks scared of everything he’s saying. I know I am. My heart races, and my mouth feels like it’s stuffed with cotton balls.
He puts his fork down, no longer looking at me but instead at the table in front of him. He swallows hard like I do and nods, looking brave. That’s the word I would use, brave. “When you’re under, I always talk to you, hoping I can reach you on another level and make you see that we should be together.” He sighs. “And now I look like I should be the person on the table, not the doctor.” He lifts his face, pleading with his stare. “I swear, I’m not some creepy pervert.”
“I know everything there is to know about you. I know you aren’t a pervert.” I reach across the table, doing the thing I think I have always wanted to do, and take his hand in mine. I need to be brave like him. “You are the thing that gets me through. I think I hear your voice and know I’m okay. Somehow, you’re able to find me in the dark and make it light for me.”
“Please don’t ever go back in.” He nods, looking at me. “I hate what I made you do. I hate that you go in there and use science I let the military force down your throat. I don’t want you to go in anymore.”
I squeeze his warm hand, sending chills up my own spine. “I won’t. I won’t go back in unless it’s an emergency. Angie says seven is a lot. But you should know, you didn’t make me become what I am. I might have been a candidate in the beginning, but I could have walked away and declined the offer. No one can make me do anything. That’s how I ended up here. I’m a survivor.”
He smiles, and the air clears of the heaviness around us. “I know you are. I know everything about you too. That’s sort of the problem being us, isn’t it? There might actually be such a thing as knowing too much.”
“No, I like that there are no secrets. I don’t like secrets.”
He squeezes my hand back. “I know that too.” He lifts my hand to his lips, pressing his warm mouth to my skin. We sit, frozen this way for a second, not moving but trembling with the next ten steps we both already have planned out.
The moment I move he does too. As I jump up he grabs my body. Nothing is the way I have imagined. It’s better. Our lips slide against one another, our tongues seeking out the loving caress of each other. His hands are firm, rough even. He slams me into a wall; my legs wrap around his waist as he kisses along my neck and cheek until he reaches my mouth. Everything is better. His lips taste like wine, but he kisses in a way that makes butterflies dance inside me. Our hands move in rhythm made by our hearts beating against each other. He lifts me again, carrying me down the hall. I grip him, nodding with my face as he kisses my neck. “This room here.”