Chapter 97 #97
Chapter 97
~Shailyn's POV~
I slide into the passenger seat, and Dwayne starts the car without saying anything.
The silence stretches for maybe thirty seconds before I break.
"She asked me how I feel about losing my memory."
Dwayne glances at me. "And what did you say?"
"That I feel lost. Like everyone knows me except me." The words tumble out before I can stop them. "Like I'm walking around in someone else's life, pretending I belong here."
"You do belong here."
"Do I? Because most days I feel like an imposter. Like I'm playing dress-up in Shailyn Belmar's life."
"What else did she ask?"
"About Dante. About how I feel about him."
"And?"
"And I told her I love him. That he's been amazing and patient and everything a husband should be."
"But?"
"But she asked how I feel, not what I think I should feel. And I didn't know how to answer that."
Dwayne's hands tighten on the steering wheel. "What do you mean?"
"I mean... I feel grateful to Dante. Safe with him. But is that love? Or is that just... comfort?"
"Those can both be love."
"Can they? Because Dr. Clara made it sound like I'm hiding behind comfort instead of actually feeling things."
"Are you?"
"I don't know. Maybe. Probably." I turn to look at him. "Does that make me a terrible person?"
"No. It makes you human."
"I'm pregnant with his baby, Dwayne. I should be madly in love with him. I should feel butterflies and excitement and all those things."
"Should is a dangerous word."
"What does that mean?"
"It means you're putting pressure on yourself to feel a certain way instead of just feeling what you feel."
I lean my head back against the seat. "This is exhausting."
"I know."
"How did the session go otherwise?" he asks after a moment.
"It was intense. She kept asking questions I didn't want to answer. About my marriage. About my feelings. About..." I trail off.
"About what?"
"Nothing. Just... everything."
Dwayne suddenly turns off the main road.
"Where are you going?" I ask.
"You need to clear your head. I know a place."
"Dwayne, I should get home—"
"Fifteen minutes. Just fifteen minutes to breathe."
"Okay. Fine. Fifteen minutes."
He drives to a park I don't recognize. Not just any park, a fun park with rides and games, but the gentle kind. No roller coasters. Just carousels and Ferris wheels.
"A fun park?" I ask as we pull into the parking lot.
"A calm, fun park. Nothing strenuous. Just... fun."
"I'm pregnant."
"I know. That's why we're not going on any crazy rides. Just the easy ones."
We get out, and Dwayne buys tickets at the entrance.
"You don't have to do this," I say.
"I want to. Come on."
We walk through the park, and despite myself, I start to relax. The air is crisp, the atmosphere is cheerful, and there's something about being here that feels... light.
"Cotton candy?" Dwayne offers, pointing to a stand.
"You're trying to bribe me with sugar?"
"Is it working?"
"Maybe."
He buys two bags, and we walk while eating the fluffy pink sugar.
"When's the last time you had cotton candy?" he asks.
"I don't remember. Literally don't remember."
"Well, now you have a new memory."
"Is that what this is? Memory making?"
"Maybe. Or maybe I just wanted to see you smile."
I do smile. I can't help it. "Thank you for this."
"You're welcome."
We ride the carousel, me on a stationary horse, him standing beside me like a bodyguard.
"This is ridiculous," I laugh.
"You're smiling. That makes it worth it."
"You're being very sweet today."
"I'm always sweet."
"No, you're usually brooding and mysterious."
"Brooding and mysterious? Really?"
"Yes. You walk around like you're carrying the weight of the world."
"Maybe I am."
"Then put it down for fifteen minutes. Just be here."
He looks at me, and there's something in his expression that makes my breath catch.
"Okay. I'm here."
We play a few games—ring toss, balloon darts, nothing too exciting. Dwayne wins me a stuffed bear.
"For the baby," he says, handing it to me.
"Thank you."
We're walking toward the Ferris wheel when I see them.
Dante and a woman.
They're standing by the exit, talking. Or arguing. I can't tell from here.
The woman is young, maybe mid-twenties, with long dark hair. She's standing close to Dante, too close. Her hand on his chest. He didn't remove it.
"Shailyn?" Dwayne follows my gaze. "Isn't that—"
"Dante. Yes."
We watch as the woman reaches out, touching Dante's arm. He pulls away slightly but doesn't move completely.
"Should we go say hi?" Dwayne asks, his voice tight.
"No."
"Shailyn—"
"I said no."
The woman leans in, saying something. Dante looks around nervously, then says something back. He looks tense. Wary.
"Who is she?" I whisper.
"I don't know."
"Should we—"
"No. We watch."
Dante pulls out his phone, shows the woman something on the screen. She nods, then says something else. He shakes his head firmly.
Then he walks away. Fast. Like he can't get away fast enough.
The woman watches him go, a strange expression on her face.
"We should follow him," Dwayne says.
"No."
"Shailyn, if he's—"
"It's probably business."
"That didn't look like business."
"It's business. It has to be." My voice sounds hollow even to me.
"You don't believe that."
"What else could it be?"
"Shailyn—"
"I don't want to talk about it right now. Please."
The woman walks away in the opposite direction, disappearing into the crowd.
"We should go home," I say quietly.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. I'm sure."
We walk back to the car in silence. The lightness from before is completely gone.
"Shailyn," Dwayne says as we get in. "If something's going on—"
"I'll handle it."
"How?"
"I don't know yet. But I will."
"You don't have to do this alone."
"I know. But this isn't your problem to solve."
"Everything about you is my problem."
I look at him sharply. "What does that mean?"
"It means I care about you. And if Dante's doing something—"
"I'll find out. On my own."
"Shailyn—"
"Dwayne, please. Just take me home."
He starts the car, jaw clenched.
As we drive, I pull out my phone and text Hannah: Need to talk. Important. Call me when you can.
She responds immediately: Is everything okay?
Not really. But I need your help.
Always. I'll call you tomorrow.
I put my phone away and stare out the window.
Dante and that woman. The way she touched him. The way he looked around nervously.
It wasn't business.
I know it wasn't business.
And I'm going to find out exactly what it was.
But not with Dwayne.
With Hannah.
Because if my husband is hiding something, I need someone who won't let their feelings get in the way.
Someone who can be objective.
Someone who isn't Dwayne.