Jeremiah shrugged. “Remy’s done a lot of research. It seems like even the most effective treatments are only slightly successful. I’m not going to submit to therapies that I think are a waste of time.”
Mortification inched its way up Remy’s cheeks at the memory of the homespun amnesia treatments she’d administered. Maureen’s hypnotherapy. The sketch pad. She very much hoped he didn’t mention any of that in this company.
Felix’s attention swung around, landing on Remy. “Thank you for rescuing Jeremiah and taking such good care of him. We will, of course, compensate you for your time as well as the expenses involved—”
“Do I have money?” Jeremiah asked his father.
Slowly, one edge of Felix’s lips curled up. “There’s forgetting and then there’sforgetting. Come now, Jeremiah. You expect me to believe you don’t know the answer to that question?”
“You do have money,” Fiona said, “yes.”
“Then I will handle reimbursing Remy for my care.”
Felix neither argued nor showed surprise. “You must be very tired,” he told Remy, “after spending ten days looking after Jeremiah. You’re a heroine.”
True, Remy thought. Also true: She was being dismissed.
“We’ll let you get back to your life,” Felix said.
It was the face-to-face equivalent of when people said “I’ll let you go” over the phone, when what they really meant was,I want to hang up now. Of course Jeremiah’s parents would want her out of the picture. She was a complete stranger to them. An unknown quantity. Who might jeopardize their son’s secrecy—which they esteemed so highly.
She shouldwantto go and never look back. Except for some unfathomable reason, she wasn’t ready—
“Remy is not leaving,” Jeremiah said.
“Jeremiah—” his mother tried.
“No.”
Felix cleared his throat. “In that case, Remy, would you please excuse us for a few minutes? We’d like to speak with our son privately.”
“Certainly.” No doubt they wanted to speak to their son privatelyabout her.
“You don’t have to go,” Jeremiah said.
“I’d like to.” She owed it to herself to show them that while they had wealth, she had wealth of character. “I could use a cup of coffee. Can I get anyone else a cup?”
The three Camdens gave identical shakes of their heads. Probably because hospital coffee was not freshly ground Arabica.
She scooped up her purse and slipped out.
Jeremiah considered his mother and father. They stirred an echo of familiarity inside him—similar to déjà vu. Their presence was also causing his head to throb. Did he love them? Did he trust them? What was his history with them?
“I feel obligated to point out,” Felix said, “that Remy might be playing you. It’s possible that she did recognize you or learned of your identity after taking you into her home. Then decided to run a long con on you. She might be trying to earn your loyalty in order to worm her way into your heart or bank account.”
Fury swept up Jeremiah’s body.
“It sounds cold, I know,” his mother hurried to add. “But your father’s warning is valid. We’ve learned this lesson the hard way. We’ve both trusted people we shouldn’t have trusted.”
The force of his emotion shocked him. Since regaining consciousness in Remy’s house, he’d experienced annoyance but nothing close to this red-hot anger. He hadn’t known he was capable of it. “I have no actual memories of either of you. Right now, Remy is theonlyperson I trust.”
Felix stepped closer to his bedside. “We can prove our relationship with you through hundreds of photos and videos. She can’t.”
“Only because she and I just met.” A chilling thought occurred to him. His father had mentioned hiring private detectives and lawyers. There were things in Remy’s past she’d kept from him, and he didn’t want his father unearthing them like worms beneath rocks. “Don’t turn your private investigators on Remy. I don’t want her ruined because she was stupid enough to show me kindness.”
“Jeremiah,” his father said, “be sensible—”
“Right now, I have one inch of faith in you. Investigate Remy and you’ll destroy that inch.”
