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What if it’s only been weeks? Clearly it took me only weeks to fall for him the first time. Or to at least have a real relationship amidst the fake marriage. At least that’s what he says.

Why do I need more proof? What am I afraid of?

Livia smiles like a Cheshire cat. Like she tricked me into admitting something I wasn’t willing to admit to myself yet. She probably did.

“I’m going to get ready. Would you please make me a sandwich for the road?”

“It will be my pleasure.” She opens the fridge.

“Oh, Livia, I’ll text you a list of ingredients for dinner. I’m cooking tonight.” I take my notepad. In the doorway, I turn to her. “Have I ever cooked for him before?”

She beams. “Yes.”

“Saar, so good to see you. What are you going to do with your first paycheck?” Nora, my very hands-off boss, asks when I walk into the studio.

“I didn’t know you’d be here.” My interview-related anxiety spikes.

She laughs. “Don’t worry, I won’t breathe down your neck. I only stopped by to say how grateful I am you decided to join the team.”

We only spoke over the phone since the injury, and probably before, I guess.

“It’s a wonderful opportunity. I love it.”

Frankly, this was the most wonderful surprise of my memory loss. That somehow, somewhere, I found the courage to be heard. To be seen for what I have to say instead of how I look.

I’m still in awe that I took the leap, if I’m being honest.

“You took your time, but you made the best decision. Good luck today.” She waves at our producer and leaves.

Before I think better of it, I call after her, “Nora, this may be a strange question. But I’m kind of surprised I took the opportunity. I just… I don’t remember…”

Shit. I should focus on my interview, not bothering her with my insecurities and confusion.

“When we met the first time, you were lost. As was I when I quit modeling. I guess you were just trying to find yourself again. It took you several weeks, but you finally called me and told me Cormac made you realize you needed to take the leap. I don’t know what that handsome husband of yours said or did, but the world is grateful.”

I lean against the wall, trying to piece the puzzle together. Something I promised myself not to try anymore.

New memories are what matters, but fuck the darkness—when it comes to my recent life, it is so frustrating.

“Look, Saar, I can’t imagine how you feel. But I know that the only way to live is by moving forward. You more than proved yourself, so who cares how you got here?”

I nod, smiling. She is right.

“Just don’t get shot again to improve your ratings.” She winks, and I gasp soundlessly. “Shit. Too early for that joke. I’m sorry, darling. You better go; your guests are here.”

I turn to find Andrea and Ivy Cassinetti walking down the long corridor. Fuck, they are a gorgeous couple.

He whispers something, and she rolls her eyes. He growls something I can’t hear, but his gaze on her is full of adoration. She shakes her head and then notices me.

“Oh my God, Saar, I’m so happy to meet you. And so freaking nervous about this.”

And just like that, I know this interview will go well.

And it does. We talk about their community art program, but also about Andrea’s addiction and recovery, and Ivy’s body image issues. They are both relatable and honest. And I fall in love with my new job a bit more.

“Thank you for being so authentic, and not shying away from issues.”

“My antics were well documented in the media, so at least now I own the narrative and hopefully will inspire someone,” Andrea says. His phone rings. “Excuse me, ladies.”