“There.” The nurse pats my arm again. “All set. You should start feeling better in a few minutes.”
My head and shoulder? Probably.
But my heart? I doubt it.
Chapter Four
NICO
I shouldn’t feel guilty about leaving her there.
Like she said, she can handle things herself.
She’s thirty-five-years-old, after all. No doubt, a capable woman. That was the Sofia I knew, so independent, so driven to make a success of herself. That was something we had in common: that ambition that had us studying late into the night together and spending hours upon hours researching the best colleges and their admission requirements.
And it’s not as if she was happy to see me. She couldn’t have made that more clear.
Although, was I expecting her to greet me with a smile after she’d just been attacked? When she was in pain? When she couldn’t even remember what happened?
Shit.
What are the odds?
Sofia comes to my condo, wanting to talk for the first time in eighteen years, and now she can’t remember why?
My hands still mid-lather, and a rivulet of soapy water runs straight into my eye.
“Shit,” I mutter, and step back under the water, lifting my face towards the shower head to rinse it out.
Could she be lying about the amnesia?
But why? What would it accomplish?
Unless she’s involved in some sort of criminal activity, and that’s why she was attacked? A drug deal gone bad, a late payment to a loan shark, maybe she was supposed to meet someone to exchange stolen goods and the other person attacked her and took off with everything?
I suppose that could be a reason for lying about her memory.
But she didn’tseemlike she was lying.
Giving myself a final rinse, I turn off the water and step out of the shower, then grab a towel and quickly dry myself off. I quickly refold the towel and hang it neatly on the rack before heading over to the counter. As I run a comb through my hair, I spin the idea through my head.
Could she be lying?
It wouldn’t be the first time.
But her surprise when she saw me seemed genuine. So did the frustration that pinked up her cheeks and made her eyes flash with anger.
And if she wanted to cover her real reason for being there, she could have easily made up a story about a mugger attacking her. She didn’t need to say she had amnesia.
After a few runs of the comb, I peer into the mirror, giving myself a quick once-over.
I’ll need to shave in the morning, I decide, since my five o’clock shadow is now more like ten. And maybe I should call to schedule a haircut for this weekend.
But aside from that, I look the same as usual. Which feels odd, since I feel so unsettled and off-balance inside.
What did Sofia think of how I look?
Was she surprised? I’m a lot bigger than I was back in high school. And a couple of inches taller, thanks to a late growth spurt that hit when I was twenty.
