Page 53 of Dear Future Husband

“This,” he started, “is my favorite thing in the whole world.”

I slanted him a curious look. “My hair?”

He nodded, not breaking eye contact.

Chelsea came around the corner of the hall, then, wearing a darling modest, light blue sundress, her hair in loose waves and a cream-colored purse on her arm.

Smiling, she stopped in front of us. “Oh, hey you two!”

I smiled broadly while Trey slowly untangled his finger from my hair.

“Hi, Chelsea,” I said as I felt him then continue to pull and play with the curls dangling against my back.

Her grin only grew as she tucked her hair behind her ear. “Trey, are you ready for our date? We need to leave in the next twenty minutes if we want to make it to our regular place by noon.”

I spun back to Trey, whose smirk was smug as he slid me a wink. “Told you she was cute.”

Trey one, Maybelle zero.

He turned back to his mom. “Yeah, Mom. I’m ready for our date.” He brushed by me, breezed a quick kiss to the side of Chelsea’s head and continued on to his room; that was only a couple doors down from mine.

“Sorry Maybelle, I forgot to ask you, are you comfortable spending a couple of hours alone? Trey and I always try to fit in a quick lunch date when he’s in town, but we won’t if that makes you uncomfortable.” She bridged the distance by placing a hand on my upper arm.

“Of course,” I replied. “Don’t stress about me. I started a book last night that I’ve been wanting to finish. You two have fun.”

“Okay, thank you, and I put my number in your phone in case you need anything. Do not hesitate to call.”

Not long later, Chelsea and Trey left on their mother-son date, leaving me to my own devices.

For the first time since waking up, I was alone. No one was in the next room, no one to hear if I called out. I shook away the eerie feeling the silence brought. I retreated to my room, retrieved the book I started. Instead of staying in my room, I ventured into the backyard.

The yard was quaint, with beautiful plush grass, but what caught my eye was in the far corner between two trees. A net hammock hung up, ready and waiting for me and my book.

***

“Mayhem,” a baritone voice called out a couple of hours later, pulling me from my story.

“Hi,” I answered, my nose still between the pages of my book. I hadn’t realized Trey’s quick approach until he was in front of me and plucking the novel from my hands. I tried to snatch it back, but he halted me with one held up finger.

“You can read later. Right now, we’re leaving,” he said as he grasped one of my hands and pulled me to my feet.

The last couple of days of pushing my physical limits were catching up with me. Instead of letting him go and walking on my own, I looped my arm in his and held to his massive arm as we walked the stretch of the yard.

“Where are we going?” I asked, with my eyes focused on the ground in front of me.

“I was thinking ice cream, but the rest is a surprise.”

He helped me up into his black Jeep that was parked out on the road and buckled me in before hopping into the driver’s seat. He threw the car in drive, and we were on the road.

As we drove, I plastered my face to the window, watching the passing roads, buildings, and people. I knew I’d been a member of the world that bustled past theglass, but I couldn’t recall any specific memories, moments, or personal experiences—which drove me absolutely insane.

It was the feeling of remembering the tune of a song, but no matter what you did, you couldn’t recall the name or specific lyrics. Or when you remember someone’s face, but their name just sits on the tip of your tongue and never leaves spoken. The incessant lack of recollection only dries your tongue out and makes your head hurt with frustration.

Instead of punishing myself by trying to remember, I watched the road and the passing world, fascinated, soaking it all in. Trey didn’t speak, only drummed his fingers to the beat ofLook After Youby The Fray humming from his radio. But out of the corner of my eye, I caught glimpses of him watching me, a smile pressed to his lips.

We soon pulled into a drive-thru, up to a massive menu with about a thousand different variations of burgers, custards, and ice cream cones. Trey ordered, paid, and I graciously accepted my treat as he pulled the vehicle into a parking spot.

“How was your date?” I asked, sucking on my red plastic spoon. Trey bought us both chocolate custard cups with hot caramel drizzled on top.