Author's Note: I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. I considered posting it earlier, but I decided to add a little to it. I did not plan for certain things to happen, they just sort of did naturally, but I think the end result was good. Please let me know if you disagree. Or if you agree. You know I love to hear your thoughts. Enjoy. Have a nice day.

Chapter Eight

Wade had been working on the truck the first time the phone rang. The second time he was inside, but he checked the caller ID, and went to take a shower. The third time, however, he started to get concerned.

"Hello?" he asked, terrified of more bad news.

"Wade!" he heard a jubilant voice screech in his ear, "Guess what? I love Woody Allen!"

"Geez! You tryin' to give a man a heart attack?"

"What?"

"The phone keeps ringing and it's you and I think maybe somethin' bad's happened if she wanted to get a hold'a me this badly. So I pick up the phone, and you yell in my ear what actor you like?"

"No, you don't get it, it's … wait, three times."

"Yeah, this is the third time you called, ain't it?"

"Yeah, but, if you knew someone was calling and you knew it was me, why didn't you pick up?"

She sounded deflated. Wade cursed himself, "No, I just couldn't get to the phone in time before. I was, uh … in the shower, but, you know, I could hear it."

"Oh." Zoe was silent for a moment. Wade wondered if she bought it. He wondered if he should have thought up an excuse that did not involve him naked and wet. "So, if you weren't there, how did you know it was me?"

"I, uh, checked missed calls to see who kept calling"

"Why didn't you call back?"

"I was about to, but then the phone rang."

"If you were all ready by the phone, why did you not pick it up until the third ring?"

Wade let out a groan, "What are you, a doctor, or a detective?"

Silence, "Look, I'm sorry. I just thought maybe you had been, I don't know, avoiding me, or something. Maybe because my questions regarding your love life had made you uncomfortable?"

"Nah." Wade said. He shook his head even though she could not see him.

"They didn't make you uncomfortable?"

"No, they did, but I ain't avoiding you." He was lying. He had been avoiding her. He had to. "So, you said something about Woody Allen." he said, trying to change the subject.

"Yeah," she said, her voice once again joyous, "I mean, it is a tiny thing to remember; favorite actor slash director, favorite onscreen couple when accompanied by Diane Keaton, but it feels like a victory."

"Well, it should," Wade said with a smile. He was happy for her. This was great news. "That's a big deal."

"Are you mocking me?"

"Nope."

"Swear?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die."

"Okay. I mean, that is a pretty childish expression, but okay."

"Well, you always said I was immature. Called me an infant once I think." He knew. He never forgot things Zoe Hart said, especially when they related to her opinion of him.

"Well, immature isn't always so bad."

"That don't sound like you?"

"Hey, don't spoil my triumph!" Zoe said petulantly, "I know I don't remember a lot, but this is progress."

"Huge progress Doc. Huge. I'm thrilled for you, I really am." And a part of him was. The other part, however, could not help thinking how things were going to change when she got her memory back, "Well, I should get goin'. Busy day."

"Right, well, we should go celebrate."

"Sure, though I would have thought you'd've had it with party's after the last one. I'll tell Lavon and Lemon, you call George." The name tasted sour in his mouth. He hated that.

"No, I meant just you and me."

"Run that one by me again Doc?"

He heard Zoe sigh. When she started speaking again, her voice sounded nervous and timid, hardly the Zoe he was used to, "I just … look, when I remembered this, you were the first person I wanted to tell. It felt amazing, but it didn't feel completely real until I told you-"

"Well," he cut her off quickly, scared of where this might be going, "Bet if you'd told someone else first, say Tucker or someone, it would have felt the same, it just feels real 'cause someone else knows beside you and it didn't disappear when you told me."

"No, that's not it. George already knows."

His brow furrowed, "I thought … I thought you said you told me first." Wade knew he had no right to be jealous, but he was anyway.

"No, I said you were the first person I wanted to tell. George was here when I figured it out. He brought over these movies with Woody Allen hoping it would jog my memory, and it worked. Wasn't that sweet?"

Wasn't that sweet? That was George Tucker all right. Always so damn sweet, "As honey. But maybe you and him should celebrate, since he was a part of the victory and all."

"I want to celebrate with you Wade, just you. That's what I want." Her voice was quiet, but firm. Wade didn't answer. After a minute, she said, "Do you not want to?"

He wanted to say, 'hell yeah I want to.' But as great as that would have been, he knew he couldn't. It just wouldn't be right.

"Um, I just … I've got a lot going on today, so-"

"And you don't have a spare minute?"

"Not a one. At any rate, not enough time to celebrate with you." He didn't hear anything, so he said, "Listen, maybe you should call up George. I'm sure he'd love to go out and celebrate with you. In fact, it'd probably make his week."

"Is that what you want me to do?" it was the same tone. She wasn't just asking those words, and he knew it. There was subtext there, but he did not decipher it. He could not let himself.

"Well, you deserve to celebrate."

"Yes, I do." She said. He thought he had won, when she asked again, "but is that what you want me to do?"

'NO!' a voice screamed in his head, 'ABSOLUTELY NOT.' He wanted so badly to go with her. To tell her everything. To tell her to forget George Tucker, to just hold her. Except she had forgotten George Tucker, which was the only reason she was talking to him. He knew she would not hang up unless he answered, so he forced the words out, trying to make them sound as genuine as possible, "Yes, it's what I want."

He waited.

"Oh. Okay then."

"Have a good time."

"Do my best." As they hung up, he thought about how her voice had sounded. Disappointed, hurt, he had done that. Things would be so much easier if she could just hate him like she had when she had first moved to Bluebell all those years ago. Life was so much simpler then. Now, everything was about Zoe, and even without her memories, Zoe was anything but simple.

Wade was right; George had been thrilled to get her call. She suggested they invited everybody else, but he seemed to think it would be nicer if it were just the two of them. It was almost a reversal of the conversation she had had with Wade. Ironic. But she was not thinking about Wade. She couldn't. Not right now.

George said he would take her to Fancies, which was apparently the only nice restaurant in town. George was so nice, and so … normal. With Wade, one second he was sweet and attentive, the next he was MIA. She did not know if having her memories would explain his erratic behavior, or if that was just him being him. George however, well, he made sense. He was always sweet and caring. Sometimes, he would get this look and she knew she was forgetting something important, but she could read him a lot easier. She knew he genuinely cared about her, and that was what she needed. Wade, well, who knew what he cared about?

George was nervous as he waited for Zoe to answer the door. It was crazy, but it almost felt like a first date again, except with a lot more riding on it. When they had gone on their first date, George had known that Zoe had strong romantic feelings for him, and she knew he had those feelings for her. That was made clear in New Orleans. Yes, a part of him had still been in love with Lemon back then, but a part of him had been falling for Zoe since the moment he met her. He had admitted that to her in New Orleans. They had almost hooked up, but then he had realized it would not be fair to hook up with Zoe until he resolved his feelings for Lemon. So that was what he had done. When they had gotten back, he had told Lemon how she had hurt him, and they had tried to work things out, but after Lavon, and New Orleans, and Zoe, they just could not get things back the way they had been. The Reverend had tried to counsel them, but no matter how many exercises he put them through, George could not forget everything that had happened. They had been broken up before the annual Bluebell Battle, which he had ended up entering with Wade, as opposed to Lemon, which had been the original plan. He had gone to Zoe and he had told her where he stood. He had taken her to a film festival in Mobile, away from all the gossip. Then they had gone to a Chinese restaurant and dared each other to try weird sounding things that neither one had heard of. He had driven her home and kissed her goodnight … and then he had kissed her goodnight again. That night he had his first good sleep in months, and by morning, he already missed her. She called him that morning and they talked all through breakfast, telling each other what they were eating, what they were doing, and how they were feeling. They had kept to themselves for a while, knowing that the town would judge and gossip. They had just wanted to be happy, and had lived in their secret paradise for a few weeks. Then, inevitably, the truth came out, but by then, they were so inseparable that no amount of gossip or judgment could ruin what they had.

This time, they did not have that history. This time, he was just her friend, and for all he knew, that was all she saw him as. That was why tonight had to be perfect.

After readjusting his tie, he rang the bell. He heard her approach the door, and then he saw her open it.

"Wow." He said, before he could stop himself. She was wearing a beautiful black dress; her beautiful brown hair was down, falling across her shoulders perfectly.

"Um, thanks," Zoe said awkwardly as she shifted from her right foot to her left and pushed a strand of hair from her face.

"Sorry. I meant to say hi, but, when somebody so stunning is standing before you, sometimes there's this reflex and you just have to say wow." He had been trying to smooth over the situation, but somehow, as he was speaking, his words had gotten away from him and made the whole thing worse. She smiled awkwardly, but the flush of her cheeks and the glow in her eyes told him she was flattered. Maybe even pleased?

"You look nice to."

"What, I don't get a wow?" he said in mock-offense.

Zoe chuckled, "Well, if you want to look as good as me, you need to step it up. I'm talking male model stuff." She responded, playing along. She was smiling, and George could tell she was relaxing a bit. That was good.

"You ready?"

"Yeah, just let me grab my purse." He waited a moment, "Okay, let's go."

Wade did his best to avoid alcohol. With his father, he knew he was genetically prone to become an alcoholic. Still, sometimes, he just had to.

He saw George and Zoe in the parking lot at Fancies. A part of him wanted to kick himself. He was such an idiot. Why did he tell her to … But then, he knew why. He had been trying to do what was right. It seemed like he was always trying to do what was right these days. And what was right was pushing the woman of his dreams into another mans arms. Her fiancé, he reminded himself. Still, it was enough to make a man go crazy. It was definitely enough to justify a drink. And another. And another. He was not going to stop, not until he blacked out.

Zoe's night with George had been fun. They had talked, and laughed. She liked talking to George. He made it so easy. Maybe that was because a part of her remembered him, or maybe it had always been like that. Maybe that was just the type of guy he was. She did not know, but she liked it. She liked talking with George. They talked about his job as a lawyer, and about Woody Allen and Diane Keaton, who were, after all, the whole reason for the outing. They talked about her triumph and what it could mean. They talked about all the medical terms for what she was going through, and for the first time, Zoe could see herself having been a doctor. The medical talk was so warm, so safe, and so familiar. It felt like coming home. George told jokes and made her laugh until she couldn't breath. And when she spilled meat sauce on her dress, he had helped her clean it. And he had told her the dress was still the most beautiful dress he had ever seen, because she was wearing it. They did not drink, because of the medications Zoe was taking, but that was okay. They did not need wine to have a good time.

On the drive home, they had listened to songs she remembered liking, singing along at the top of their lungs and laughing the whole way.

After George dropped her off, Zoe made her way up the steps. It was dark out, which why she did not notice that somebody was on her steps until they made contact with her shoe.

"Ow!"

Zoe looked down, "Wade?"

"Doc? Hey, what you doin' here?"

"I live here!"

"Oh yeah." He said, and then he started cracking up as if it was the funniest thing in the world.

"Wade, how much have you had to drink tonight?"

"Lost count around the fifth bottle." He looked like he was about to hurl. Zoe moved her shoes just in time.

"Okay, you're coming inside." Zoe said, trying to hoist him up. She could feel doctor-esque instincts kicking in. Person in medical trouble. Must take care of. She had no clue how to do that, but she was hoping it would come to her. "Wade, you gotta help me here. I am not that much stronger than I look." she said as she tried to lift him.

Wade helped her help him up and draped his shoulder around hers so she could pull him, "Whatever you want Doc, I'm always happy to oblige." He said. Of course, it was kind of slurred, so it sounded more like, "Wever yawa Doc, always happy tablige."

She brought him in, and propped him up on her couch.

"Keep in mind that I have no memory, an thus, no clue what I am doing, but I think it's best if you stayed propped up. In fact, I'll get some pillows."

She went to her closet to grab the.

"You're killin' me Doc!" he called to her, "S'what I came here to tell you. You're killin' me."

He slurred again, but Zoe was able to make it out. She felt a pain in her chest, but dismissed it. Wade needed her to be of cool head and medical mind. If her was just drunk, then he just needed somebody to stop him from being stupid. If he started to choke on his vomit or something … well … she's cross that bridge when she came to it.

"Here you go, pillows." She leaned down, "Lift your head." He did so, and she placed the pillows beneath it. She had never been this close to his face before. He smelled like beer.

"I was half crazed, full drunk, and your breath smelled like generic beer."

"Snap you out of it with my generic beer breath."

Zoe heard her and Wade's voices swimming in her head. She knew they were memories; they had to be. However, she had no clue what the memory was. It was like when you think of a lyric, but can't remember what song it's from, but worse, because it was her life.

She heard Wade make a noise, and snapped herself back to reality. He looked so strange, lying there, drunk and helpless. She pushed his hair back. It was soft and messy.

He moaned a little, like he was enjoying her touch, but then it turned to a groan, "Please don't do that Doc." He said, half annoyed, half desperate.

She pulled her hand away slowly, "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Just stop."

"I did."

"No, you need to stop, because I can't go through this with you a second time!" he yelled. Then, he added in a whisper, "First was painful enough." He wasn't slurring anymore. He was clearly still drunk, but it was like he needed to say this, and he needed her to understand so badly, that he forced himself to be clear.

"Go through what? What are you talking about?"

"You're makin' my life hell Doc, you know that? You really are. Killin' me a little bit more every step of the way."

It was like an ice-cold Blade going through her heart, "I don't know what I did." She said meekly.

"It's not what you did. It's what I did. Or didn't do. Now it's too late."

"Wade, you're not making any sense."

He chuckled, "I'm drunk Doc. Nobody makes sense drunk."

"But what-" she stopped. He was snoring. Now she just had to wait for him to wake up. Odds were, once he was sober, he would become a lot less honest. She hated that. However, she promised herself that one way or another, she would find out what he was talking about. She needed to know. She needed to know why he hated her so much.