My breath snags when I see him, and my heart races when I look at him.
Even without my memories, I know that I love him. I just wish I could remember him.
How did we meet? What was our first kiss like? Our wedding?
These unanswered questions bring a fresh wave of tears.
“Il mio sole.” He wraps me in his strong arms and gently pulls me against his broad chest. The feel of it rising and falling reassures me that he’s real, and the beating of his heart under my cheek tells me he’s mine.
“Say it again.” I sniffle.
He kisses the top of my head. “Il mio sole. My sun. My life. My queen.”
My heart kicks in my chest, and I snuggle closer. “It stirs something in me when you say that. Something bleary and fuzzy in the back of my head.”
His heart pounds under my cheek, and his arms tighten around me. “Then I’ll call you that multiple times a day.”
I pull back and look up at him, but then quickly become self-conscious about how I look. Not only my bruises and swelling, but a small patch of my hair at the back of my head had to be shaved when they sutured the wound.
He gently cups my face and presses soft kisses all over it. Last, he kisses my lips. “I love you, Gina.” His deep voice is thick with emotion. “I love your light and your fire. Find that again within yourself and come back to me fully.”
I grip the lapels of his suit. “What if my memories never return?”
He brushes his lips over my forehead. “As long as I have you and your light, that’s everything I need.”
“What happened to me?” I whisper.
I’ve asked that question several times these past few days. However, every time I’ve asked, nausea rose, rapid and intense, and my bruised face and head started to throb. And Tommaso hasn’t fully answered.
“You were in an accident,” he says, just like all the other times before.
And because I’m quickly fatiguing just standing here, and because the nausea and throbbing warn me that I don’t want to know, I let it go for now.
He scoops me into his arms, and I ease completely against him.
“Dr. Albans says it’s good for me to walk,” I say but snuggle in closer.
Tommaso carries me toward my bed, and I glance at the nursing station desk in the corner of the room. I’ve had one-on-one care, but once I regained consciousness, the nurses were in here less as the tests showed I was stable and improving.
“Dr. Albans isn’t here; your husband is.” Tommaso sits me down on the bed, my heart fluttering. “And your husband can see you’re fatigued, and he dotes on you because you’re his world.”
“Did you?” I ask as he pulls my bag across the bed, checking the contents inside. “Did you dote on me?”
He’s bent over slightly and turns his head to me. “Not nearly enough. We had…” Something passes through his eyes before it’s gone. “We had only married right before your accident.”
“But we dated,” I say as he turns back to the bag.
He doesn’t answer right away as he zips it up and straightens to his tall height. “Not very long. We had a rapid, whirlwind romance.”
“What aren’t you telling me, Tommaso?”
He cups my chin, his hand warm and rough. Like he’s a man who does hard, manual work, yet you’d never guess it from his impeccable suit. “I’m not telling you many things. But I’ll tell you all of it in time, I swear.”
Dr. Albans had warned Tommaso and me not to push for the memories to return right now. To give myself some time to heal.
“I trust you.”
It might be insane, but I do. I can’t help but trust him.
