Blank Slate Kate

Chapter 25

I scan the crowd of people in the Ottawa train station, looking for Ryan. He said he'd be here to pick me up and I have no doubt that he is. But the crowd thins out, people leaving with their friends and family or heading out alone, and I still don't see him.

I drop onto a bench and dig in my purse for my phone. As my fingers brush it, I hear, "I'm here!" and look up to see Ryan rushing toward me clutching a beautifully wrapped bouquet of red roses. My heart warms just at the sight of him. It takes me by surprise, how strongly I feel.

"I'm sorry," he says when he reaches me. "The florist took ages to get these guys put together for you. They look great but I didn't plan on it taking half an hour. I'm really sorry. You haven't been waiting long, I hope?"

"Five minutes," I say, although it was probably closer to ten, and I'm rewarded by seeing his shoulders relax.

"Thank God. I didn't want you to think I'd forgotten you."

"I carried bread out of a restaurant for you, I can't imagine you'd forget me."

He laughs and wraps an arm around my shoulders. "Not in a million years, honey." He holds out the roses. "Anyhow, these are for you. A welcome back to Ottawa."

I take them and breathe in their sweet rich scent. Welcome back. I can't tell him that nothing looks familiar so far. "They're gorgeous. Thank you. Hey, did I take the train a lot?"

He shakes his head and picks up my suitcase. "Hardly ever. So don't be worried if the station doesn't ring any bells. Oh, my, that's a lovely suitcase."

I laugh. We bought it together last Saturday so I could travel to visit him today, and the store clerk who was helping us kept saying, "Oh, my, that's a lovely suitcase" about everything I gave even the slightest bit of attention. "It is, isn't it? Truly lovely."

"The loveliest of the lovely." He takes the suitcase for me and we start walking as he adds, "I'd say it's just like you in that regard but that'd be kind of cheesy."

"True. But sweet."

He gives my arm a squeeze. "Consider it said, then."

He takes me and the suitcase out of the train station and loads us into his car. "Okay," he says once we're all in, "here are the options as I see 'em. I can take you home and let you see the place, then we can either eat something there or go out. Or we can go out first and then go home."

"I was thinking about this on the train. I'd like to see the house now." The sooner the better, in case it brings back my memories.

He nods and starts the car. "And then dinner?"

"Sure. Do you cook?"

He gives a burst of startled laughter. "Honey, if I didn't believe you have amnesia, which I do, I would believe it now. I managed to burn water once."

"Oh, you did not."

He turns and looks at me, his face deliberately blank, then begins to drive out of the parking lot.

"You did? How?"

"Forgot the pot was on the stove. It burned off all the water then charred the pan black. We'd only been married a few weeks at that point and that cookware set was a wedding present so I felt terrible."

I smile. "Did I forgive you?"

A dreamy smile plays at the corner of his mouth. "Once I replaced the pan, and promised I'd never touch it again, yes."

His smile, though, suggests there was more involved. Newlyweds? They'd almost certainly ended up in bed to seal the deal.

They? We. I had been a newlywed with this man. I still couldn't quite take it in.