Monica felt tears prick at her eyes. She blinked quickly, willing them away.

“What happened? Is she…?” Rob inquired but couldn’t finish the thought.

Monica shook her head. “She’d had a really rough life already. She lost both of her parents, then she was shipped cross-country. She was only my third assignment. I placed her in a foster home with this couple who seemed perfect. They had a safe home and full-time jobs and an older son who was about to leave for college. They wanted to offer their home to a teenage girl. I put her there. I did that to her.”

The tears rolled down her cheeks now, and she didn’t care to stop them.

“It’s okay,” Rob whispered, clutching her hand in his and running his thumb back and forth in a sweeping motion.

“It’s not okay. They did horrible things to her, Rob, things that you can’t even imagine. It was my fault for not seeing through their lies. It was my fault.”

This had been the subject of nightmares, the cause of therapy, a never-ending black cloud looming over her. No matter what, Monica could not let go of the guilt and shame associated with Josie Banks.

“Can you imagine being responsible for something so horrible?”

“It’s not your fault those people were terrible.”

“It’s my fault she had to live with them, my fault that she was too scared to tell me the truth about them. She’s twenty-two years old now. She uses drugs and sex and God knows what else to avoid having any real relationships. She’s so damn talented, an artist. I check in on her, always trying to guide her toward a better life, to save her from herself. Josie doesn’t want to be saved, though. I guess I’m just being selfish. Because if she turned out okay, that would mean I didn’t fail.”

She broke down again, this time losing all control. She sobbed against his shoulder, painting his shirt in misshapen circles of salt water. Monica clutched his arm, needing to feel and consume his strength. She sighed when she felt his hand rub comforting circles on her back. The feel of Rob’s love made it easier to manage.

“Darlin’, you did what you could. I’m sure she knows you didn’t intend for any of that to happen.”

Monica swiped at her eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath. She forced a smile down at Rob’s worried face, regretting burdening him with such tragedy.

“I know. I do. I just want her to be happy. I almost feel guiltier now that I’ve found you.”

“Monica?” a deep voice called from a few feet away.

She looked up to find her coffee beau, Evan, standing there. She forced a smile and glanced around, trying to figure out where he had come from. Feeling vulnerable, she wondered if he’d overheard any of their conversation. Rob sat up quickly but remained relaxed as Evan approached.

“Hi, Evan. Fancy seeing you here,” she said, shielding her eyes from the sun so that she could look up at him.

“Yeah, I was heading to the museum with some friends when I spotted you. You’re looking much better than the last time I saw you.”

Both Monica and Rob looked around for his friends but found no one waiting.

“Yeah, a day off will do that,” she said. “Oh, Evan, this is Rob. Rob, this is Evan.”

Evan stepped closer, enjoying how he towered over the seated man. He offered his hand in a gesture of forced politeness. It would gain him points with Monica if he remained casually friendly to the boyfriend. Rob gripped his hand and Evan almost grunted from the force of his hold. The corded muscles and tendons of Rob’s forearm were evident as he kept his expression indifferent and his hand crushing Evan’s.

Rob nodded and released his grip from the would-be suitor, hoping that his warning was clear. She’s mine.

“Evan knocked me on my ass the other day in the rain. He bought me coffee to make up for it,” Monica offered, completely unaware of what had just transpired between the two men.

“Did he?” Rob asked.

“It was the least I could do,” Evan acknowledged. He looked around, wringing his hands together before turning back to address the couple. “Well, I’d better get going. It was good to see you again, Monica. Rob, nice meeting you.”

“Likewise,” Rob spat at his retreating form.

When he was out of sight, Monica turned to Rob only to find his gaze still trained to the empty space where Evan had been. His blue eyes were slits and his face was contorted into a menacing scowl.

“Rob? He’s gone, you can stop crushing my hand now.”

Rob snapped out of his jealous daze and released her hand. She smiled at him and shook out her fingers, exaggerating the pain just a bit.

“That guy’s a douche bag.”

“Aww, sweetie, you’re jealous,” she teased. “That’s so cute.”

“No, I’m not,” he denied.

Monica straddled his lap and kissed him on his forehead, then his nose, then his lips.

“Yes, you are, but it’s adorable. The green-eyed monster suits you.”

“You could have introduced me as your boyfriend, you know.”

“Is that what you are?”

Rob shrugged, suddenly aware of their unidentified relationship.

“Boyfriend seems so juvenile. You can be my partner, my lover, my special guy,” she sang in a dramatic declaration.

Rob chuckled, letting his anger slip away.

“Regardless, I don’t like Khaki Pants Church Clothes Evan. I want you to stay away from him.”

Monica laughed and placed more distracting kisses on his face along his hairline. She combed her fingers through his hair and gave him an obedient smile.

“He’s nobody. I’ll never lay eyes on him again,” she promised, though she couldn’t know how far from the truth that statement would prove to be.

Tristan lay awake for nearly an hour, holding Josie close and memorizing her sleeping face. When she began to stir, he placed a kiss on top of her hair and inhaled. He found her intoxicating.

“Good morning,” he whispered, his lips still pressed into her hair.

Josie hummed in response and squeezed him closer. Perfect, she thought, everything is perfect. She marveled at how soundly she’d slept and how utterly content she felt.

“REM sleep usually only accounts for twenty-five percent of our sleep, but with you it seems much higher. Do you remember your dreams?”

“I used to just see all those faces, yours, my parents’, but now I don’t remember anything. I bet they’re mostly about you.”

“I hope so,” he answered, running his hand down the curve of her spine. “Josie?”

“Yeah?”

“Didn’t you ever want to know about your life before amnesia?”

“I would sometimes think that I wanted to know, but I was too scared to face it. I thought, what if it’s worse than what I do remember? I was happy to leave it alone. That way I could imagine it was a good life.”

“It was a good life,” he confirmed.

“Thanks to you, I know that now,” she answered, smiling.

“When we were thirteen, you forced me to go see the movie A Knight’s Tale. You were obsessed with Heath Ledger. I begged you to go see Joe Dirt. I couldn’t stand the thought of sitting in that theater for two hours while you sighed and drooled over that guy.”

Josie laughed.

“Well, he was beautiful. I was crushed when he died.”

“Anyway, I gave in and went to see your movie. You went on and on about how hot he was. I was so jealous,” Tristan said, laughing at the memory. “It worked out in my favor, though.”

Josie lifted her head and rested her chin on his chest.

“How’s that?”

“After the movie, you were so worked up that you dragged me into the bookstore and attacked me in the self-help section.”

“I attacked you?”

“Yes, attacked. It may be the only time in my life that I was oblivious to books. The best parts of that night were the smell of paperback books and your perfume combined, the shelves cutting across my body and my hands in the back pockets of your jeans. We made out until one of the employees busted us. You gave me my first hickey and let me feel your boob. By thirteen-year-old-boy standards, it was epic.”