He wanted to wrestle the phone away from her the way he’d once wanted to wrestle the bottle of Advil away. This time, his IV restrained him.
Remy froze, head bent.
A sinkhole opened in the center of him. “What did you find?”
“Fiona Camden is not the name of your wife. That’s the name of your mother. Hang on. I’ll google Jeremiah Camden’s wife.”
“Don’t.”
“Yes.”
Time scraped by. Probably just seconds but it felt like minutes.
Remy made a soft, sad sound . . . the kind of involuntary noise people make when hit with terrible news.
He didn’t ask what she’d found because he was sure he didn’t want to know.
She hauled her attention up to him. He’d seen many different moods cross that face, but this was the first time he’d seen this mixture of regret and sorrow. “Your wife, Alexis Camden, passed away fifteen months ago.”
Again, rightness echoed within him at the news. But it only brought more weight. Pound after pound. “How did she die?”
“It says here that she committed suicide by jumping from a cliff into the lake below. She was only thirty-one.” She bit her bottom lip.
He’d felt guilt in the dreams. Washethe reason she’d jumped off a cliff? “Did we have kids?”
“No. You don’t have any children.” She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry she’s dead and now I’m also sorry that I insisted on looking her up. It would have been better for you to find this out in a more compassionate way from someone who’s close to you.”
“You’re the only person who’s close to me.”
“I’m very sorry.”
“I don’t know her,” he reminded her again. “I’ve never even heard the nameAlexisuntil now.”
“I was so certain that the two of you were living an epic romance . . . .”
“You made that up,” he pointed out gently. “Just like you make up the stories surrounding your sculptures.”
“To me, your dream really did indicate an epic romance. In fact, your romance probablywasepic. Which is why you still wear your wedding ring. I’m sure you’ve been devastated over the loss of Alexis ever since her passing.”
It was clear to him thatRemywas the one devastated by Alexis’s passing. She’d told him once that she saw herself as the champion of his marriage. She was very attached to the fiction she’d created around him and his wife. “Can you pull up a picture of Alexis so I can see if she’s the one in my dreams?”
Remy found an image on her phone and displayed it to him.
He could hear a cart hissing down the hallway and the sound of a door closing. His headache turned unbearable as he squinted at the photo. “Yeah. She’s the one I dreamed about.” Long and flowing dark hair. Blue eyes. It was awful to look at this healthy, young, beautiful person and know that she’d killed herself.
In some strange way, his amnesia had been acting like an anesthetic, protecting him. When the anesthetic wore off, what level of destruction would be waiting for him?
A knock sounded. He and Remy looked toward the door.
An older man swept inside as if he owned the building.
“Are you Jude?” Jeremiah asked.
“No,” the newcomer answered. “I’m your father.”
ChapterEight
Remy swung toward the stranger.
