Page 29 of Lemon Pound Cake Club

She remembered who she was and the game changed.

I smiled.

"I forgot about you."

I set the frame on a floating shelf. The next box held a stack of photographs. I took my time looking through them. One picture stood out.

Zaire and I stood barefoot on the beach, laughing together. My head leaned on his shoulder, with the ocean stretching out behind us.

I couldn’t remember the joke he told, only how happy we looked. I placed the photo on my desk. At the bottom of the box was a small yellow recipe tin decorated with tiny painted lemons.

My grandmother gave it to me years ago. Inside, I found handwritten recipe cards, stained with vanilla and butter from all the baking over the years. I touched the top card.

Lemon Pound Cake

I smiled despite my pain.

"My favorite."

The recipe was simple, with no secret ingredients or complicated steps. The card’s edges had softened from years of use.

I put the tin in a desk drawer because some things deserve a permanent place.

Someone knocked at the front door. I glanced at the clock. It was ten-thirty.

I walked through the foyer and opened the door.

Simone stood on the porch wearing distressed jeans, a white tank top, and big sunglasses. She carried a camera on one shoulder and balanced two iced coffees in one hand.

"I brought caffeine."

I laughed.

"You didn’t have to do that."

"I know." She handed me a cup anyway. "But I wanted to."

She looked over my shoulder.

"Am I interrupting?"

"Not at all."

"Good."

She smiled.

"I figured since everyone else already claimed you, I’d steal an hour with you before Nia plans another event."

I stepped aside.

"Come in."

She walked in and glanced around the house as she entered.

"It’s beautiful."

"It finally feels like ours."