THIS LOVE Book Box

My wedding day is the biggest disaster imaginable.

I’m in the limo, made up, dressed, and holding a bouquet the size of Dallas when I realize I’ve forgotten my seizure meds in all the rush.

This would be an emergency in any circumstance, but as my hand starts to shake, the tremor rippling up my arm, I know no ceremony will happen today.

My seizures are different. They cause amnesia.

When I wake up on the floor of the moving car, hurtling toward the hospital, I don’t recognize anyone around me. Not the photographer, who insists he is my coworker and best friend. Not my father, who I only recently got to meet. And certainly not the half-sisters and stepmother I barely know.

As we enter the hospital, me tearing away the lace on the itchy, uncomfortable dress, there is apparently one other person who thinks I should remember him. He strides through the curtain, handsome and concerned.

My groom.

But no matter what anyone says, what my circumstances were an hour ago, there’s one thing I absolutely know:

I am not going to marry a stranger.

--
This Love is a hard-won romance between a woman with recurring amnesia and the man who has pledged to always love her. It is the second part of Tucker and Ava’s remarkable story, but you do not need to read about their early years in This Kiss to enjoy this part of their journey. It can stand alone.

Chapter 1: Tucker


My mom, back when she was alive, loved poetry.

I never really understood it, being a twelve-year-old numbskull who’d rather be zapping zombies on my PlayStation.

She’d quote one of them all the time. Something like, “She walks in beauty.”

It had a line about a cheek and a smile.

I could probably Google it, but at that moment, with the first glow of morning casting across Ava’s face, I didn’t need the words.

I had the feeling.

Rosy. Content. She sleeps in beauty.

Ha. Sleeping beauty. Suddenly, the fairy tale made sense, too. I’d cut down thorn bushes to get to her. Could I defeat a dragon?

Maybe those PlayStation hours I’d logged as a kid would come in handy if I had to wield a sword and aim for an imaginary jugular.

But this morning seemed the right kind for poems.

This afternoon, Ava and I would get married.

It felt like a long time coming, but we had met young when we were only seventeen. In the eight years since then, I’d found her, lost her, and found her again, like a river traversing a mountainside.

I hoped the wedding would be a linchpin, a moment in time we could look back on as, yes, this was the day we committed to this course, no matter where it took us.

Ava slept soundly and hated how alarms startled her like a shock to the heart. I leaned over to stroke her pale cheek with the back of my fingers to rouse her gently.

Another line returned from that long-latent memory.

“Mellowed to that tender light.”

I glanced at the ceiling, as if Mom might be there, feeding me the words. “Thanks for being here,” I whispered. Thirteen years gone, along with my father and younger brother, lost in an instant, leaving only me to survive the crash.

But today, on this day, she was with me.

Ava shifted toward me. “What did you say? I missed it.”

“Just good morning.” I leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Happy wedding day.”

She smiled. “But this is the one day you don’t have to get up early.”

My hours at Jiffy Lube normally started at seven. Ava worked for herself and never stirred before nine.

“But it’s the one day you do.” I stayed close, reveling in the sleepy warmth of her neck and bare shoulder.

She blew out a gust of air. “Right. Hairdresser. Makeup artist.” She rolled into me, tucking her head against my chest. “How about I sleep in and rely on my natural beauty?”

“Works for me.” I pulled her in more tightly.

She laid there for a few more seconds, then blew out another huff. “I can’t. Tina would be disappointed. So would Dad.”

“And your sisters.” Ava’s father had a second family who adored her. “They’re all so excited to do girly things with you.”

Ava kicked the covers aside. “I regret agreeing to this big production. We should have eloped.”

“Not too late. I can sneak you out of the house.”

But at that moment, a car door slammed. Then another. Cheerful voices filtered up from the yard.

Then the front door opened. Ava’s stepmother Tina had a spare key. All our close friends and family did. They worried about us. They had their reasons.

Ava ducked beneath the sheets, visible only as a spray of long, brown hair fanned over the pillow.

I burrowed my way next to her until I could make out her shadowy face. “You think they’ll find us in here?”

Fingernails tapped on the bedroom door. “Ava? You up? It’s time.”

Ava’s face tilted toward mine. “That’s Tina.”

“I think you’re stuck.”

“Okay.” She leaned forward to kiss me lightly on the mouth, then threw the sheets down. “Coming!” she called.

I pulled on her arm to drag her in for another kiss before I let her go. “See you this afternoon,” I said. “I’ll be the one in the black tux.”

“I’ll be all in white,” she said. “Unless I make a run for it.”

“You’d better take me with you.”

She grinned. “Of course.” Then she was up, opening the door in her tank top and shorts, slipping into the hall.

I stayed in her warm spot a moment longer, trying to remember more of the poem. It felt like a gift. I had a feeling Mom knew I’d miss her, miss all of them, on a day like this.

I picked up my phone and Googled the words I remembered. The full text showed up easily. Lord Byron.

“She walks in beauty, like the night / Of cloudless climes and starry skies.”

It fit. Mom couldn’t have predicted who I would meet years after she was gone. But all those words suited Ava. Night. Cloudless. Starry.

Gram had been with me that day eight years ago when Ava turned up at the children’s hospital, wired for seizures, same as me. We were about to age out of pediatrics.

Epilepsy had been a battle for both of us, but now, in our mid-twenties, it felt like we had it licked. With puberty and growth spurts and hormonal imbalances behind us, we had treatments that worked. Meds for her. An implanted device for me.

Life was good. And with hope came optimism, so we made the leap to marriage, even though I was taking college classes while working full time.

Her photography business was thriving. She had even hired an assistant, Vinnie, who would photograph our wedding today.

Normal life finally seemed possible.

I slid out of the covers and headed to the window. Down below, Tina’s car gleamed on the curb. It looked out of place against the line of weary houses in need of paint, like a shiny diamond in the dirt.

It wasn’t a fancy neighborhood like theirs in Houston. But Ava and I were making our own way. We were proud of what we’d accomplished, despite everything life had thrown at us.

I turned to the closet. Time for me to head to Gram’s house to meet up with my best buds, Bill and Fuentes. We had it easy with nothing more to do than getting dressed in our fancy duds and driving over to the country club in the late afternoon.

It would be a good day.

And Mom, sitting on whatever star looking down on us, had somehow made sure it started out exactly right.

Maybe I’d add a little Lord Byron to my vows.

 







Chapter 2: Ava





I spent the morning getting my hair tugged, my face painted, and my nails sparkled up.

Each woman who assisted during the day had their own philosophy about weddings.

The hairdresser, who brushed out the curls only to pin them up again, which struck me as terribly pointless, told me, “This is the day you two will love each other the least.”

I puzzled over this one for a while before Tina leaned in to say, “I think she means you will love each other more and more every day after this.”

That hadn’t been the case for my parents. My mother ran my father off, then lied about him for nearly a decade. I only learned how he really felt when I escaped her.

She wasn’t invited to the wedding.

But I didn’t say this to the hairdresser.

Not to the nail tech either, when she told me, “This is the happiest day of your life.”

I couldn’t see how anyone would think that. So far, it had been frustrating and nerve-racking and scheduled to the nines.

A much happier day for me was spent photographing Lady Bird Lake in the center of Austin, the sunlight dancing over the waves. I’d point out to Tucker that the reflections looked like the water had shiny braces, and he would laugh and tell me how much he loved how I described the world.

Maybe I’d understand what the nail tech meant when I got to the end of the day. It could be that the moment we stood in front of the Justice of the Peace and said our vows that all the pain of preparation would evaporate. People said that about childbirth, too.

I wasn’t buying it. Not yet anyway.

The makeup artist came last. She was different. Practical. She winked with a vivid blue-lidded eye as she said, “Doncha worry, darling. No wedding day is perfect. Something will go wrong. It always does.”

I almost leaned away, trying to escape this pronouncement, like Maleficent weaving a curse over the infant Sleeping Beauty.

Tina cleared her throat to cut her off, arms crossed. And Tina rarely got snippy with anyone.

The woman waved her kabuki brush. “Oh, it will be all right. It won’t matter. Might be the chicken runs out. Or a groomsman loses his boutonniere. But the vows will happen. Happiness will win out, I promise.” She dabbed my cheek.

I wondered what would go wrong today.

Eventually, I made it back to my bedroom and got helped into my dress by Tina. She went to fetch Vinnie and my father. We were going to do “first look” father and daughter photos.

I stood by the lace curtains in my bedroom window, the sun streaming over my veil, when the door opened.

Vinnie scooted in first, camera in hand. He’d worked for me for almost two years as an assistant shooter. “You look gorgeous, Mija.”

He grinned at me from below a fat black mustache. His hair was glossy, plumped in front, and he wore a black jumpsuit with a big, pointed collar. He called himself Mexican Elvis and moonlighted as a lookalike in shows around town when we weren’t shooting. Working weddings in this getup got him lots of Elvis gigs.

I didn’t mind. I adored him. He’d been a good friend to Tucker and me since I’d left the big studio where I’d trained and struck out on my own. We’d met in photography class.

Vinnie had married his great love, Armando, last summer. I’d taken those photos.

He was the only person I trusted with my own big day. When I’d told him I was getting married, he had laughed. “Girl, if you could do the whole thing with selfies, you would.”

He wasn’t wrong. I did have a rather exacting look I wanted from my images.

Dad backed into the room to avoid seeing me too soon. “I might be too old to walk without looking.” He held out his arms for balance, like a tall, gray-suited scarecrow.

“You’re fine, Dad,” I told him. “Just a few steps more.”

“Circle around on three, Dad,” Vinnie said. “One, two, three.”

Dad turned.

He sucked in a breath, his eyes misting over.

This made mine smart, too.

Dad held out his arms. “My beautiful daughter.”

I walked into his embrace. Vinnie snapped the shots. I was careful not to smear the makeup artist’s careful work on his shoulder.

“Got it,” Vinnie said. “Gorgeous.”

When I pulled away, I asked, “Can I see?” It was pointless, but I tried anyway.

Vinnie held the camera close to his chest. “No way, boss lady. This is my gig today.”

“Okay, okay.” I smoothed the lace across my bodice. It was already irritating my skin. Everything about the wedding was fancier than I liked, but Dad wanted to go all out. Ceremony on the green at the Barton Creek Country Club, a sit-down dinner after.

When he’d first laid out the plans, I’d balked. Was he trying to make up for the decade of my life he had missed?

Or that my mother wasn’t allowed to attend?

Dad had insisted that no, this was what he’d always wanted for me, for all three of his girls.

It felt extravagant. Tucker and I lived simply. This dress alone cost the equivalent of two months’ rent.

“You’re calculating money in your head again,” Dad said. “I can tell.”

Guilty.

I couldn’t help that I kept a running tally of expenses all the time. I’d been completely on my own when I turned eighteen, living in a women’s shelter to escape my mother. It had been terrifying, not knowing the basics of normal life, like how to use a cell phone and being thrust into the world of rent, utility bills, and holding down a job.

The fear was imprinted on my soul and tattooed on my hip, the words angled so I could read them.

Mom is bad.

Vinnie slid closer, kneeling near my feet. I recognized one of our signature shots, getting below the bouquet and showing the bride’s face above her flowers.

My half sisters, Amanda and Jennifer, slipped into the room. They were my only bridesmaids and wore fitted dresses that floated to the floor in light pink chiffon. They had chosen them. I’d had no idea what to suggest.

Jennifer looked impish at eighteen, her pale hair a riot of perfectly spiraling curls. We’d celebrated her high school graduation a few weeks ago.

Amanda, home for the summer from Tulane, was tan and chic, with a smooth French twist.

Both of my sisters were so much more elegant than me. They took after their mother.

I prayed I never took after mine.

“Ava!” Jennifer cried. “You look so beautiful!”

Vinnie held up a hand. “Don’t get in my frame.”

“We won’t!” Amanda backed away.

Tina stepped inside the room. “Can I come in?”

“Of course!” I called.

Vinnie sighed. “I suppose we have the shot.”

I dropped the pose and wrapped an elbow around his neck. “It’s fine. You’re amazing.” I tried to peek at the screen on the back of the camera, but he held it away.

“No cheating, Mija.”

Busted.

“I need a photo with us all,” I said. “Amanda, Jennifer, Dad, Tina. Come on!”

Vinnie waved us forward. “Yes, before everyone gets sweaty.”

“It’ll be fine,” Tina assured us. “This June has been nice for Texas.”

“It hit ninety today,” Dad said.

“Oh, Dad, always complaining about Texas weather.” Jennifer pinched his arm in his light gray suit. “Don’t say one bad thing about Ava’s big day.”

He cleared his throat. “I stand corrected. It’s a gorgeous ninety degrees.”

We smiled for Vinnie, who stood up on a chair to get a good angle.

He checked his watch as he jumped down. “It’s time! Is the limo here?”

Jennifer ran to the window. “It’s down there!”

I looked over her shoulder at the long white car on the street. I knew it was a staple for weddings, and truly, it was practical with six of us travelling at once.

But my mind still totaled the cost.

Two months of groceries.

Dad lifted my train and laid it over his arm as our group passed through my rented house. The rooms were clean and orderly even though they showed their age in the layers of paint and the scarred wood floor.

The entryway walls were covered with images. Me with Tucker, our heads close together, sun streaming through the leaves. Tucker working on the car, peering from under the open hood, a lopsided grin aimed at me.

Other pictures showed Tucker and Gram. Me with my father, my sisters. Roses. Oak trees. Squirrels from the yard. The Austin skyline.

My gaze slid along them. My life. I was taking the next step.

We walked out into the heat. The sidewalk was lined with dark pink vinca, the yellow daffodils long since faded from spring.

Vinnie hurried ahead to photograph us leaving the house, then ducked inside the limo to get shots of us entering.

Jennifer paused by the door, taking a selfie with her fingers in a peace sign.

“For my Insta,” she said. “I didn’t get a limo for prom.” She shot Dad a look.

“I didn’t get a limo for prom either,” Dad said.

Jennifer sighed, turning her bouquet around in her hands. “That was the Stone Age.”

He chuckled. “Right. The Stone Age of the eighties.”

When the door closed and the driver strapped in, I let out a long sigh. Almost there.

The morning had started so early. The appointments. A light brunch with the women of the family, catered at my tiny table, the meal feeling too fancy for the warped cabinets and mismatched dishes.

My reconnection with my dad a few years ago had been good, but it was hard to keep my simple life separate from his opulent one. I’d lost so much, over and over again, that wealth felt like a burden. Something to slip through my fingers.

I wanted everything I cared about to fit in a bag. Every important moment to be documented in one easy-to-find place.

I fiddled with the bouquet. Marrying Tucker was the right thing. He’d always protected me, knowing from our first meeting that my mother was someone he would need to rescue me from. He’d nearly gone to jail for it.

And now we were here. Making it official.

I pressed my palm to the blooms, reveling in the cool, delicate petals. My fingers trembled.

Was I nervous? Of course not. Marrying Tucker was the best thing I could imagine.

But an alarm went off in my chest. Something was wrong. I held up my hand. The tremor was growing, moving up to my wrist.

My arm dropped to the seat, no longer under my control.

Dad snapped to attention at the thud of my hand on the leather. “Ava?”

I realized with a jolt that I never took my seizure meds this morning. The most important part of my day. The most critical.

They were back in the cabinet over the boxes of leftover pastries from our decadent brunch.

I forgot about them. I was off schedule. Off routine.

I opened my mouth to tell my father, but it was too late. I couldn’t speak.

“Ava?” Dad asked. “Are you okay?”

I wasn’t.

A mechanical whine buzzed in my head. My vision grew dim in degrees, like someone was punching a button to turn the brightness down.

“That’s a seizure,” Dad said. “Damn it.” He grasped my shoulders as I began to tilt.

I could still think, although everything moved in slow motion. Maybe it would be short. Maybe it wouldn’t generalize to my whole body.

But as I listed sideways into my father’s arms, I knew I would not get lucky here.

This one would be bad.

Something will go wrong. It always does. The makeup artist had predicted it.

But this time it wouldn’t be okay.

My seizures differed from most. They caused complete amnesia. My entire memory got erased.

Tucker. My love. My rescuer.

My father, my sisters, Vinnie.

In a moment, I wouldn’t remember who anyone was.

As the blackness took over, I tried to hold them in my mind.

Tucker. Father. Amanda. Jennifer.

I said their names over and over inside my head.

I couldn’t forget them.

I couldn’t start over.

Not today. Not on my wedding day.

Surely, I could hold on.

But then, it all winked out.