Chapter 7

That person was my best friend, Bethany Campbell.

When I had my car accident, she was overseas at an intensive, totally isolated designer BootCamp, completely cut off from the world. She didn't get a single update. The moment her training ended and she landed, she turned on her phone and saw a WhatsApp message from my mom, telling her I was in a car accident and had lost my memory.

Bethany didn't even bother with jet lag or dropping off her luggage. She just came straight to my place. Well, no, I'd asked her to meet me at a café instead.

Honestly, I was being a little selfish not letting her come straight to my place. I didn't have many friends, and Bethany was the only one I could open up to. I wanted to figure out what was really going on between me and Quentin. Other people might not have a clue, but Bethany? She must know something.

"So," Bethany said, taking a big gulp of her coffee like she was trying to steady herself, "you remember everyone and everything else just fine, but Quentin's just gone from your mind? Like, totally erased?"

"Yeah! Isn't it wild?" I nodded with a helpless look. "I can't remember a single thing about him. The doctor calls it selective amnesia. Can you believe that?"

Bethany looked me up and down, making sure I was in one piece except for my brain, then finally let out a sigh of relief. "Any other injuries?"

I shook my head. "Nope. All the physical stuff's healed. Just stuck with this memory mess now."

"Alright," Bethany said, setting her coffee cup down and getting serious. "So, you asked me to meet you today because you wanted to ask me something, right?"

I took a deep breath and nodded, finally asking the question that had been weighing on me for so long. "Beth, just tell me the truth. Are Quentin and I... really married?"

Bethany's eyes went wide, and the spoon in her hand clattered into her coffee cup, splashing a few drops of brown liquid.

She shot up from her seat, her voice rising an octave and drawing the attention of everyone in the café.

"Margaret! What are you talking about? Quentin's your good friend! He's like a brother to you. Sure, he's got that face that could make anyone swoon, but you can't have those kinds of thoughts about him! Haven't you two always told people you were just childhood friends, like brother and sister?"

"Brother and sister?" I was just as stunned, almost dropping my cup. The steam from my coffee blurred my vision, and Bethany's agitated face was a little fuzzy in front of me, but every word she said hit me like a hammer. "You... you mean, like, actually related by blood?" My heart was pounding in my throat, and I felt cold all over.

If we were really blood siblings, how on earth would my parents have ever agreed to us getting married? Would they have lost it?

"Of course not!" Bethany looked at me like I'd grown a second head, then rolled her eyes. "What are you even thinking? You're an only child. Where would a real brother come from? And even if you were, do you think your parents would ever let you two get married? Would they have gone completely nuts or what?"

I let out a huge sigh of relief. Thank God, it wasn't the kind of soap-opera-level drama I'd been dreading. I mean, sure, my parents could be a little scatterbrained sometimes, but when it came to something this serious, there was no way they'd mess it up. I was the one with amnesia, not them.

"So what's with this whole thing?" I quickly hushed Bethany and tugged her back into her seat, making sure she kept her voice down.

Bethany leaned in close, her voice dropping to a whisper as she started to break it down for me. "You seriously don't remember any of this?"

"Obviously not! If I did, would I be sitting here grilling you like my life depends on it?" I shot back, exasperated.

"Alright, alright," Bethany said, clearing her throat. "Let's break down how things were between you and Quentin. The three of us grew up together, but we didn't really get close until middle school. That was when you started telling me about what was going on at home."

Bethany said Quentin was three years older than us. When we were in elementary school, he was already in middle school. By the time we hit middle school, he'd moved on to high school. Even though we all lived in the same neighborhood, we didn't hang out that much. Later, when our families moved even closer and my parents got busier with work, they'd often ask Quentin to pick me up and drop me off at school, as it was on his way.

Honestly, Quentin was a total heartthrob from day one. Even when he'd just started high school, he was already tall, good-looking, and had this charm that made all the girls around him smitten. So of course, all the curious classmates kept coming up to me, dying to know what was going on between me and Quentin.

And my go-to answer, every single time? "He's my friend, a brother."

"Honestly, most people didn't buy it at first," Bethany said, reminiscing. "You two didn't look alike at all, and he was way too nice to you—like, not just the usual 'big brother next door' kind of nice. But you always insisted. I even got all serious and asked you if you had a crush on Quentin. Do you remember what you told me?"

I shook my head, totally lost.

"You said, 'Not at all. He's just my friend, like a brother to me. Way too serious. I'm actually kind of scared of him.'" Bethany said, putting on my old serious voice for effect.