Page 39 of Bean

I had no clue, but did it even matter? All I knew was that being with Jarek—ha! I remembered his name on the first try!—made me happy. He quickly got changed into normal clothes and we headed out. My hand in his made my belly spin in the best way, and when we found a cute little café on the beach to have lunch, I was even happier.

We sat next to each other instead of opposite. “So we can both enjoy the gorgeous view,” Jarek said.

I would argue that looking at him was having a gorgeous view, but that was maybe not the right thing to say. Jarek might have said there were no rules, but I wasn’t sure if I believed that.

The menu was limited, but they had various seafood options, so I ordered seafood pasta. I needed some serious carbs. Jarek opted for a salmon burger. “I hope it’s not dry,” I told him after the waiter had left. “They often are.”

Jarek chuckled. “That was information I could’ve used five minutes earlier.”

Oops. “Sorry?”

He took my hand and squeezed it. “I was teasing you. I’ve eaten here before, and the salmon burger is delicious. Their regular burgers are practically inedible, however, and I suspect they do that on purpose to make us order the more expensive items.”

“Hmm, maybe I should discuss that strategy with Zayd.”

“I haven’t eaten a single disappointing dish there.”

That made me strangely happy, even if I hadn’t cooked all of them. “I’ll make sure to tell him.”

“So what did you mean when you said you told yourself our story?” Jarek asked.

There was no harm in telling him, right? “Nash noticed I can remember movies and books easier than real life, so he asked my neurologist. She said it’s because our brains are wired for stories and we remember those better than anything else. I did some research after that appointment, and she’s right.”

I dug my notebook out of my pocket and flipped to the right page. “Research shows that people remember facts better if they’ve been told in the form of a story. When we hear or read a story, the parts of our brain associated with doing that thing in real life light up. Like, if someone told you a story about eating a lemon, you’d make more saliva in your mouth.”

“For real? That’s seriously cool.”

“It is, and so Nash thought that maybe if I put important things in a story, I’d be able to remember them better.”

“And you figured I was important enough to put in a story?”

Right. I hadn’t exactly thought the implications of my statement through. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, right? “Yeah. Is that okay?”

“Of course it is.” He took my hand again. I really liked that he was so tactile. “It’s a compliment that you deemed me important enough.”

“I didn’t want a repeat of the previous time when I didn’t recognize you. I may not have recognized your face this time, but once you said ‘rhymes with Derek,’ I connected the dots.”

“You did, and I was pleasantly surprised.”

Pride filled me. “Thank you.”

“Tell me the story.”

Tell him the… Oh, heck no. That story had parts that weren’t supposed to be said aloud, not anywhere but in my head. And maybe between Nash and me, but that man was a vault. “I can tell you how it starts.”

“I’d love that.”

“Once upon a time, there was a cute young man who worked as a cook in a bar. His name was Bean.”

“Great opening line. Very true. You are cute.”

“Thank you. Nash came up with that part because I would never label myself as cute.”

“You are, though…and now I’m curious how you described me.”

“He looked like a silver bear with gray in his chest hair and softness in all the right places. His eyes were a brilliant blue,” I read from my notes, my voice soft. I peeked at his expression from between my lashes. “Is that okay?”

He swallowed, then lifted my hand to his mouth and kissed it. “Perfect. I’m flattered, sunshine.”