Free Always Something There to Remind Me by Beth Harbison Page A

proportion to the way I remembered him.” Which was barely at all—we dated long enough for me to remember his name, but not long enough for me to feel confident I’d recognize him in a lineup.
    “This isn’t the same,” Jordan said, sounding a little impatient. “Don’t play a playah, honey, you and I both know how he felt about you. Nate remembers you.”
    “I don’t know,” I said flatly. I didn’t. I had no idea anymore. In fact, I had serious doubts that I’d ever really known him.
    “Then that’s another thing you need to find out,” Jordan said, with the finality of a death sentence. “Find him and put this whole thing to rest.”
    I shook my head again even though she couldn’t see me, and my audience in a Honda at an intersection had moved on when the light changed. “I can’t do it.” There had to be another solution. “Don’t you have some sort of puppet I could talk to instead? Have a mock conversation to work this out?”
    “I seriously doubt Mr. Snoodles would fool your subconscious.”
    “Look, I’d be willing to wrap Mr. Snoodles around a vibrator and pretend I love him if there was any chance.”
    “Find Nate. Talk to him.”
    My call waiting beeped. My first thought, as always, was Camilla. Child emergency. I was always braced for the worst. “Hold on a sec,” I told Jordan, and switched over. “Erin Edwards.”
    “Erin, it’s Jeremy.” As if I’d mistake that voice for anyone else’s. My relief that it wasn’t a child emergency was short-lived as he continued, “Can you come to your office right away? We have a catastrophe on our hands.”
    A catastrophe. Good. That sounded like just what I needed to get my mind off of things. I switched back. “Jordan, I’ve got to run. But thank you , truly. I really appreciate your help.”
    “No problem. Think about what I said, okay?”
    “I will.” I wouldn’t. No way. I’d tried hard to bury my feelings for Nate so deep, no one would see them again until my autopsy. I couldn’t possibly open that wound again. “Call you later.”
    *   *   *
    Forty minutes later I was on TV.
    Had Jeremy mentioned the words “camera crew,” I might have showered before hightailing it over to work. Possibly done something with my hair. Maybe put on some makeup so I didn’t look like I was actually haunting the hotel instead of working in it.
    As it was, I found him hiding in his office. “I can’t be on camera!” he shrieked like a little girl. “I have a zit!”
    Oh, for God’s sake. I looked at his face and saw nothing. “Where?”
    “Right here .” He pointed at the nothing on his chin.
    “I don’t see anything, Jeremy.” Why did he always have to get so hysterical over everything? And how was it he was still the boss, given that I had to take care of him all the time?
    “You have to handle this.”
    Every muscle in my body seized. “Oh, no. No, no, no. The deal was that I have nothing to do with the on-camera stuff. You had me cancel my vacation to stick around and help with the specific codicil that I would not be on the show, even in a background shot. Remember?”
    “They just need to do some establishing shots.” As soon as he’d found out VTV was coming, he’d learned everything he could about television production and liked to toss the terms around like an expert. “And they also want to start getting some background information on the planning. They probably won’t use it.”
    Right. Just like my mother wouldn’t keep the unflattering blowfish pictures she got of us every year extinguishing birthday candles. “Jeremy, I am telling you right now, there is no way I’m going on camera. You agreed to that, rather enthusiastically, when I told you that six months ago.”
    “Six months ago, I didn’t have Mount Everest on my lip.”
    There was no point arguing. He wasn’t going on, so I was stuck. Honestly, when Jeremy had called claiming there was a catastrophe and that I had to get over there right