“Do you even love her?” He threw the words like a weapon. “Or was this just some impulsive Vegas thing you’ll regret in a month?”
The question should have felt heavy. It didn’t.
“I love her,” I said. Simple. Direct. No room for doubt.
Jack’s jaw worked, his eyes sharp with disbelief. “And when the hell did this happen? You were engaged to Hannah Pierce—did that slip your mind?”
“We broke up.”
Jack stopped. Just stopped moving entirely. Stared at me. “What?”
“Hannah and I. We broke up.”
“When?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes, it matters.” His voice rose sharply. “You were engaged last week last I knew!”
“And we ended it.” I met his eyes. Held them.
“When?”
“Recently.”
“Define recently.” He said the word slowly.
I said nothing. Just looked at him.
“Mike.” Still nothing.
“How recently?” Silence.
Jack’s eyes narrowed and I said, “That’s not the relevant part?—”
“When, Mike?”
“The details don’t really?—”
“When?”
I held his gaze. “A few hours before you called me to look for Claudette.”
Silence followed my announcement like I knew it would. Complete, absolute silence.
Jack just stared at me. His face went through about five different expressions in three seconds.
“You broke up with your fiancée a fewhoursbefore you married my sister?”
“I broke up with Hannah because I was in love with Claudette.”
He shook his head like I was speaking absolute bullshit.
He ran his hands through his hair, and I saw the frustration in his eyes about the impossible situation we were all trapped in now.
“Your stupidity aside, how did she lose her memories?” he asked. The question brought back every moment of my panic when she’d suddenly gone limp.
“Seizure,” I said. “She was fine one second, then unconscious the next.” I could still feel the weight of her in my arms, the terror of not knowing if she was breathing.
