CHAPTER 43
Retrograde amnesia. That’s what they believe Cait has, though it will take months of tests to verify. This is the unbelievable bullshit Linden is the force-feeding me as we sit in his office at work. As far as we can glean from the nurse who was willing to talk, Cait woke earlier this week and she remembers nothing. Yes, I knew the longer she was out the worse it would be, but I had no idea. I had no clue she could face this.
“She’ll remember me.” I’m positive. I cross my ankle over my knee and bounce my foot. I can’t sit still.
“She might,” Linden agrees. He leans back in his chair.
“I have to see her.” I take out my phone, but my hands are jittery.
“The issue is the document you signed. From what I gather, they’re hiring in-home care. She’ll have a long road of physical therapy. Her dad is retiring to aid in her recovery.”
“Meaning, he’ll be by her side, twenty-four seven?” I smack the arm of the chair. “I should be with her, not him.”
Linden gives me a woeful look.
My face drops into my palm. “Fuck me.” Why am I such a colossal fuck-up? Why couldn’t I have waited to sign the papers? Would it have mattered? From the moment Cait woke up, her parents knew they could write me out of Cait’s life and reprogram her. Did I even have a chance under the new circumstances?
“We’ll fight it.” He leans forward, elbows anchored on his desk. “And she could pop out of this next week and remember everything. None of this will mean anything when she returns.”
“What if she doesn’t?” Uncomfortable, I twist in my seat.
He shuffles some papers on his desk. They’re scans of her medical records, something else that cost him a pretty penny.
“My friend, Dr. Suma, explained these to me. She has a brain injury. There’s very little blood flow to the right temporal lobe. That’s where memory’s stored. They’ll keep testing her to better understand her situation, but as it stands now, the area is swollen from a fall she took after...”
After she was shot. I clasp my hands together and twist them tight in my lap. I’m thinking things I shouldn’t—things I never would have before now—if the shooter wasn’t dead already, I’d kill him myself.
Linden clears his throat. “If the swelling recedes, memories may return. But the memories right before the trauma could be lost forever, meaning, she may not remember the hours, days, or even a few years leading to the event. Only time will tell.”
I reach for my phone, open a browser, and type in the airline’s website.
“Hold on.” Linden raises his hand.
I need to do something. I need to make things how they were before. I don’t have time to analyze and discuss. I need to reverse and force us back on track. Even if it’s impossible, I need to search for a way.
He continues, “Besides the possibility of jail time, let’s imagine you have a chance to talk to her. What do you say? How do you explain you’re her boyfriend, that you lived together for years. And even though she doesn’t remember you, you’re in love?”
My face heats. My nose burns. Fucking tears prick the edges of my eyes. I thought I was dry of them but they’re threatening again. I understand what Linden’s saying, but I don’t like it, not one bit.
“She’ll be scared and overloaded. Can you imagine her in a scenario where she’s not in control?” he asks.
I shake my head. She’s a control freak. No less than neurotic. I’ve been too selfish. I’ve been thinking about myself, not Cait. As much as it shatters my heart, it may not be the right time to face her. A fight with her family may not win me any points if I need to convince her we belong together. Will I have to make her fall in love with me again? Oh, God. It’s no small miracle it happened the first time and that was with Steph’s help. Steph, not fate. I cover my eyes with my hands, holding back the grief of losing two of the closest people in my life.
This time will be different. All the things Cait and I shared, all the jokes, all the banter, all the vacations, holidays, and lazy days spent in bed are gone. They only live in my mind now.
“She’s probably scared. I can’t believe I won’t be there for her,” I say. My leg’s bouncing. I bite my nail and stare off beyond the window toward the river, imagining what she’s going through.
Linden joins my side. He places and arm on my back. “It isn’t over. It’s a pause. Possibly a very short one.”
I nod. I understand, but I need to do this my way. Against Linden’s wishes, I buy the airline ticket. That night I land at Reagan National, rent a car, and drive to the Londons’ home in Potomac, Maryland. I have to see for myself where she is. I have to know she’s safe and taken care of. Even if I have no plans to see her while I’m here, I have to give her a place in my mind to live while she’s not with me. It doesn’t matter if it’s three days or three weeks, I have to know.
I keep my distance, parking far enough away that no one will notice me, but close enough to see. In the clear night, every room of the Londons’ mansion is lit. Floodlights highlight tall columns, steep gables, and little spiral topiaries that line the circular drive. It’s storybook. My Sleeping Beauty in her castle. Cait’s told me about it before, but I’ve never seen it for myself. By her description, I have a general idea of which room belongs to her, somewhere on the second floor near the garage.
I want more than anything to leave my car to find her. If only I could reach out and take her in my arms like before. But how long will I have to wait to do that again? To feel her smooth skin under my embrace and whisper how much I love her?
In the darkness behind my car, red and white lights pop on with a quick whoop of a siren, and what’s left of my broken heart freezes. Two police officers step out of their cruiser and approach with flashlights that blind my eyes.