The water is scalding against my skin. It beats against my back, runs in rivulets down my face, but I don't flinch away from the heat. Charlie and I sat on that bench until my ass was frozen, so I welcome the warmth happily. The steam wraps me up like a blanket, making me reluctant to get out. I've been moving all day, so to have a moment of stillness is a blessing. I tilt my face up and let the water wash the last twenty four hours away, then cut off the stream. When I step out of the shower, I feel refreshed. Almost like myself again.

I grab the nearest towel and wrap it tight around my body. It's soft to the touch and the perfect shield against the cool, bathroom air. I walk around the glass wall and head out the door to the rest of the bedroom, my head wrapped up in thoughts of where to go from here.

Which means I don't see Carter standing near the bedroom door.

"I've always loved your hair like that."

I nearly drop the towel at the sound of his voice. Clutching it like a lifeline, I make sure all the important bits are covered before facing him. He's still wearing his work clothes, a tailored suit in navy blue. He's got pajamas folded up in his hands, suggesting he plans to sleep in the guest room again. It's hard to pinpoint how I feel about that.

"What?"

"Your hair. When it's wet and all the curls separate. I've always loved it like that," he explains, a hint of a smile playing across his lips.

Instinctively, I reach up and stroke the damp curls, letting them weave around my fingers. My mind searches for anything to say back, but I draw a blank. I'm not used to this Carter who blatantly compliments me. Snarky Carter? No brainer.

Husband Carter? A total conundrum.

"That summer you taught me to swim? I'm surprised I learned anything at all," he continues. He doesn't seem to mind my silence. "I kept getting distracted by it every time you came up for air."

I remember this memory just fine. Jitters dancing in my stomach whenever he swam by. Sun glistening off his golden skin when he got good enough to race me. It was one of the few times we spent just us, splashing around in a hidden pond near the back of our neighborhood. Being that close to him with no one else around had been exciting, and I would never want to leave, even when my fingers pruned painfully.

"Anyway," he continues when I stay quiet. "I'll be down the hall if you need me." He turns to leave.

"Wait," I blurt out as he grabs the doorknob. He hesitates to see what I'll say. Honestly, I'm right there with him.

It strikes me that I don't want him to leave. I'm not sure what avoiding him has gained me other than total loneliness. After spending the whole day with Charlie, the thought of sitting in this room alone isn't very appealing.

Then I remember I am very much naked under my towel. I flush as Carter takes note. His eyes flicker down to my collarbone, the same place he left bite marks just days ago, before forcing them back to my face.

"Just...turn around. I'm gonna get dressed."

He raises a brow. "I've already seen everything, Amber. Many times."

"Did I ask? Or did I say turn around." I'm standing my ground on this one. Married or not, I am definitely not at that level of comfort with him.

Carter tries and fails to hold back his disappointment. He sets his clothes on one of the chairs, then passes me to walk down the hall I just came from. "I'll brush my teeth, then. Be right back."

Triple checking to be sure he's really gone, I shimmy back into the nightgown from yesterday. The slippery, pink satin feels cool against my skin, and I shiver at the thought of him seeing me in it again. I could throw my safety sweatshirt on as an extra barrier, but I fight the urge and sit in the same chair as before.

Carter isn't gone long. He settles in across from me, and ironically, it feels like deja vu. The only difference from yesterday is I'm much more relaxed; things are still messy and confusing, but there isn't the same fear attached to it.

"It didn't work," I admit, breaking the silence. He frowns, so I clarify. "Your list. No matter where we went, I couldn't remember anything."

He sighs. "Damn. I thought at least one of them would trigger something."

"No dice."

"Well, I'll just have to write another one tomorrow. Maybe the next places will—"

"Carter, what are we doing?" I ask bluntly. "What's the point of going on another scavenger hunt around Manhattan when we both know it isn't going to change anything."

"We don't know anything, Amber. The doctor said if we expose you to familiar—"

"What the hell is more familiar than my own daughter, Carter?"

The words burst out before I can stop them. I didn't mean to mention Brynn, and the guilt pooling in my stomach makes it hard to even think her name. But I stand by my point; if seeing her wasn't enough to bring back a memory, how can we expect anything else to?

"I'm sorry about what happened with Brynn."

His apology throws me. "For what? You didn't run in fear from a two year old."

"Because I should've known how you would take it. There's a lot you've worked through over the years when it comes to your family, and we didn't take the decision to have kids lightly. Brynn's mother isn't the woman sitting in front of me now, and I shouldn't have put you in that position so soon."

I'm taken aback by his explanation, but one part in particular sticks out. "What did I work through with my family?"

Carter leans back in his chair and rubs a hand down his face. "I called Ben this morning to update him on what's going on. I didn't realize you hadn't told him on the phone."

I can only imagine how well that conversation went. "I'm surprised he hasn't sent a squad of ambulances to the apartment."

"Trust me, he was planning to. I assured him you were fine and that we already went to the hospital. I explained how far back the memory loss goes." He hesitates before saying the next part. "There are some things he doesn't want me to tell you."

I bristle at that. "Ok, I love Ben, but since when do we let my little brother call the shots?"

"I said he doesn't want me to tell you. He wants to tell you himself, in person."

"I get to see Ben?" I ask, my heart in my throat. Just the thought of seeing him wipes away all the frustration from the past few days.

Carter smiles at my excitement. "Yeah. He couldn't get off work until next week, but he booked the first train out of Philly on Friday."

Friday. Meaning for the next week, I get to anticipate what could possibly be going on with our family. I have an idea who it pertains to; when I looked through my phone, it wasn't just Mark's name missing from the call history. There was no trace of either of my parents; their new numbers aren't even in my contact list. I'm not exactly shocked Mom and I don't speak, but how did I lose Dad too?

Carter leans over and takes my hands, drawing my attention back to him. "Look, things with Brynn could've gone better, but I don't want you to think it has anything to do with you as a parent. She only knows one word, and she knows it for a reason. She loves you more than anything, and you reciprocate that love tenfold. You are not your mother, Amber."

I grip his hands to keep myself upright, not realizing how much I needed to hear the words until they're out in the open. The way my parents raised me was something I never wanted to pass along. To put it bluntly, being a good mom wasn't something I thought I could do, so Carter's reassurance means everything.

That being said, it's weird having it come from him. A pit forms in my stomach again as thoughts of Mark bubble to the surface. For the thousandth time since waking up, I'm tempted to ask Carter about him. But then his thumb grazes my palm, shooting tingles up my arm. The idea of ruining this moment with a possible argument isn't very appealing.

So instead, I ask a different question. "How did we get here?"

"I thought we covered that part already," he says sarcastically, but he's grinning.

"I mean," I gather my nerve, "how did we get to this point? How did we end up married?"

The question hangs between us, making the air thick. He studies me, thinking over his next words carefully. Instead of answering right away, he shrugs out of his jacket, then loosens his tie. He moves onto his sleeves, undoing the buttons at his wrists and pushing them up to his elbows. It exposes the tattoo covering his right arm, and it takes all my strength not to stare at it.

He leans back in his chair, seemingly more comfortable. "Let me ask you this. Why didn't you get your license in high school?"

It comes totally out of left field. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. For three years, your mom forced you to ride to school with me, and instead of getting your license, you let her. Why?"

Fighting off a blush, I give him the reason I give everyone. "I don't like driving. It freaks me out."

"Wrong," Carter says with a smirk. He nudges my foot with his. "That's just what you told people. No, the real reason is the same reason I never fixed the windows in the truck. Any excuse to get you to talk to me."

Any reason to be near him. Stunned, I blink back without any idea what to say. The license thing is something I've never admitted to anyone — hell, I don't think I admitted it to myself before this conversation. Still, I fail to see how any of this is related.

But Carter's not done yet. "And that day at the log, when we first kissed. Do you remember what I said to you?"

My stomach flips as I recall how it sounded in my ears. I couldn't forget those words if I tried. "I've always mattered to you."

Carter laughs softly. "What an understatement that was. I think even as a kid, I knew you were it for me, and as I got older, that feeling never went away. It wasn't a question of if I'd spend my life with you, just if I'd get the chance. Things may have been rocky at our start, but after that day at the log, there was no doubt in my mind. Kissing you felt like breathing for the first time in years. From that moment on, I was yours."

I'm lightheaded, and I realize it's because I'm not getting any oxygen. Drawing a ragged breath, I fight to keep my composure. My mind simultaneously wants to embrace and reject what he's saying. Since middle school, everything Carter's ever done suggested he didn't care. It wasn't difficult to deny my feelings when he made it so easy for me.

But the look in his eyes is so sincere, it's obvious he means it. I wrack my brain for something to say, but I've completely forgotten the English language. After years of suppressing my emotions in regards to Carter, my words don't flow as easily as his.

He saves me the trouble. "You don't have to say anything. I already know you feel the same."

"How?"

"We've had this conversation before," he says with an easy smile. "Plus, you saying 'I do' was a pretty good hint."

"Ha. Another moment I can't remember." I lay the sarcasm on thick in hopes it'll cover up the bitterness.

He eyes the fireplace pensively before shrugging out of his button down, revealing a thin undershirt that leaves his toned arms exposed. "I have an idea. There's something I wanna try."

"If it's LSD, I'm in. Not like my brain can get any more fucked up," I reason.

Carter ignores me and gets to his feet. Using a switch on the wall, he dims the bedroom lights, then turns on the fireplace again. It bathes the room in a soft glow that warms my skin.

"What are you doing?"

He grabs a remote off the mantle and hits a few buttons. From somewhere above me, soft guitar music starts playing.

"Come here," he says finally, holding out his hand

"We're going to dance?"

"If you'd stand up and get over here, yeah." He gestures again for me to take his hand. Eyeing it nervously, I eventually relent.

My palm buzzes in his as he guides me to the center of the room. Carter wraps my arms around his neck, then slides his grip down to my waist. Instinctively, I lay my head against his chest and inhale, the smell of his cologne tickling my nose. He applies pressure to my hip until we're swaying with the rhythm of the music. A soulful voice joins in with the guitar, singing of a love rekindled.

"This was our first dance," Carter murmurs against my hair. "I brought you home to South Carolina and married you on the beach where I grew up. It was small. Simple. Just the way you wanted it. By the time we started, the sky was so dark we could see every star up there. We only had a few pews, but that was enough. Everyone who mattered was there."

I let his words paint a picture in my mind. I can imagine his parents front and center, with Julia clutching a tissue to combat her tears. Henry would cry too, but he'd blame the wind from the ocean. Carter's father tries to put on a tough face, but he's always been a softy.

Ben would be wearing a black suit and probably look just like our father. He'd be sure to sit in my line of vision so he could make me laugh during the vows. Hesitantly, I add Mom to the picture. I like to think she'd put aside our difference for something as big as my wedding. She'd be poised, wearing something conservative as usual, and she wouldn't cry. That I know for sure.

And then, there's Mark. It's harder to picture him attending a wedding for Carter and me; his face when he caught us mid-makeout is still fresh in my mind. But I know there's no way he wouldn't have come. Maybe he'd stand in the back, hands stuck deep in his pockets. He'd be uncomfortable and not very happy, but he'd be there. It wouldn't be right without him.

"Chloe was all over the place," Carter continues, trailing his fingers up and down my spine. "I thought she was going to bite our wedding planner's head off. I'm not sure why we hired one when the maid of honor insisted on doing everything herself."

This doesn't surprise me at all. Chloe doesn't play around when it comes to pulling off plans, so I'm sure she was a total nightmare to everyone else. But with me, she would've checked in frequently to make sure I was stress-free, then squeezed my hand encouragingly before walking down the aisle first. Guilt worms it's way in when I realize I haven't asked about her once.

"Standing at that altar, I don't think I've ever been more nervous in my life. I sweated through my shirt before we even started. You made fun of me when you stripped it off later," he whispers right in my ear, making my breath hitch. "And when I saw you, so beautiful in that white dress, it felt like my whole world was walking towards me. I'm man enough to admit that I cried."

I'm right there with him. Inhaling sharply, I grip his neck harder to help fight back the tears. We lull to a stop as the song fades away, leaving only the sounds of my sniffles. Carter reaches back and unlocks my fingers, then draws my arms down until they rest against his chest.

"Then, I took your hands in mine," he brings my wrist up to his lips, kissing it softly, "and in front of everyone, I told you how much I loved you. How I've loved you all my life. And how I'll continue loving you until my last breath — through sickness and through health."

It's the final blow. Tears flow freely down my cheeks, and Carter uses a thumb to wipe them away. Of all the things I can't remember, this is the most devastating. The pictures I conjure up aren't enough. I want to remember my father walking me down the aisle. I want to remember Carter's face when he first saw me. I need to remember the moment we exchanged vows, rings, our first kiss as husband and wife.

Reluctantly, I meet his eyes. "It isn't working, Carter. Why isn't any of this working?"

He studies me, then sighs. "I don't know. But this wasn't the idea I was talking about."

"What?"

"This wasn't to bring your memories back. I just wanted an excuse to hold you," he says, his smile tinged with sadness.

"Then what's your idea?" I ask, confused.

He pushes a curl away from my face before cupping my cheek. "I think we're going about this wrong. Exposing you to things from a life that's unfamiliar doesn't make sense. We should be focusing on things that are consistent from the life you still remember. The bridge between the two."

"So what are you saying?"

My eyes flutter closed when he leans in, planting a kiss on my temple.

"I'm saying, we're going home."