The limo was a Rolls Royce Silver Shadow.
Where had he seen one like it before?
The license plate would tell him where the car was registered. But what was it? Why couldn’t he remember?
It wasn’t fair.
Everyone else had normal memories and ran rings around him, especially Pierce who was the one with the countless lists of events and annals used torefresh his memory.
Peering at Clare’s phone, Griffin relived their day visiting the sights of Dublin. Everything he’d posted was saved on his account in the cloud.
While waiting for the rideshare, he went back meticulously, reading his notes and listening to his own commentary.
He wanted so badly to believe she’d been true to him, but it was easy to take advantage of a manwho couldn’t remember things. Had she found the true Heart of Brigid only to swap it for the quartz version and leave him passed out in the dungeon?
What if she’d planned on fooling him the entire time? She’d stolen the Heart of Brigid once; what was to stop her from playing out the search and then swiping it from under his nose again?
This time, she could claim someone kidnappedher and that it wasn’t her fault. She could have pretended to be dragged through the dungeon. Maybe she’d left the country with the so-called kidnapper and was on her way back to America by now.
How well did he truly know her?
How could he love her if he didn’t remember anything about her?
Reading posts and looking at photos didn’t mean he knew her. She was just like any otherperson on social media he’d had no personal experience with. A familiar stranger known only through soundbites, tweets, likes, and shares.
Griffin held his head in his hands and groaned.
He hated starting over again and being told all of the stories of his life or lives. How could he ever trust anything to be true?
