Not that I care.
“So,” he adds. “Have you remembered anything yet?”
Dragging my thoughts away comb-overs and giant bellies and unfortunate warts, I reply, “No. Not yet. The neurologist said they could come back in hours, days, weeks, or maybe never.”
“Never?” His eyebrows shoot up. “The doctorsaid that?”
“He did. He said, and I quote,the brain is a funny thing.”
“A funny thing?” Nico scowls. Then he reaches for his pocket. “He doesn’t sound like a very skilled doctor to me. Maybe you should look for a second opinion. A doctor with extensive experience with retrograde amnesia.”
“I know you’re eager for me to remember why I came to see you. But that doesn’t mean you have to camp out by my room. As soon as I remember, I promise, I’ll tell you.”
Those two spots of pink flare on his cheeks again. “Yes, I’m curious why you came. But that’s not why I want you to regain your memories. If you remember what happened yesterday, it might help the police catch who did this to you.”
“Assuming I saw anything useful,” I retort. “The people who intervened said the attackers were wearing masks. So even if I do remember, it might not help identify them.”
“Can you think of anyone who might have motive to hurt you? An ex? A disgruntled coworker? A former client?”
A cold pit settles into my stomach. I don’t want to think about anyone I know wantingto hurt me.
“The police already asked, but you probably know that. Don’t you?”
Nico’s gaze slides to the left. “Maybe.”
“You hacked—” Suddenly, I remember there could be police coming by to see me any time. And as annoyed as I am at Nico,I don’t want him arrested, either. So in a much quieter tone, I continue, “Did you hack into the police computers?”
He waves his hand in a dismissive gesture. “It’s not important. But yes, I know they already asked you about possible suspects. That doesn’t mean you couldn’t have thought of someone new.”
“I work alone,” I tell him. “Aside from my accountant, it’s just me. And I seriously doubt my accountant has a vendetta against me. Unless it’s because he’s tired of my disorganized bookkeeping.”
“Clients? Ex boyfriends?”
“I don’t really deal with high stakes cases. Maybe some cheating husbands, someone who pretends to be injured to claim disability, but that’s it. I can’t imagine?—”
“You never know what could set someone off. So it’s something to consider. And what about an ex? Someone angry that you broke up with him?”
My fingers twist into the sheets. “No. Not recently. Angry or otherwise.”
In truth, which I’mnottelling Nico, I haven’t dated anyone seriously in over two years. And seriously is probably a gross overstatement. I dated Ric for three months before he decided to get back together with his ex-girlfriend and first love from high school.
Which is pretty ironic, considering.
Nico stares at me. His brows pull together, forming a tiny line between them. He used to get that line when we were studying, and I’d trace it with my finger and call it his thinking line. Then he’d catch my hand and pull me to him, kissing me until all either of us could think about was each other.
I can remember how I felt back then, my body flooded with desire, my heart racing in anticipation, heat building between my thighs and coiling deep inside me. I’d feel Nico’s erectionjutting hard against my belly, and we’d exchange this silent look, and?—
Augh.
Stop thinking about the good times,my inner voice of logic scolds.Think about Nico breaking your heart. Think about the days and weeks and months after, when the world felt so dark and empty, it was hard to even get out of bed.
I know that voice is right.
But it’s hard to shove those memories away when Nico’s standing right in front of me.
“I’m sure the police will find a lead,” I say, desperate to think about something—anything—different. “Or my memory will come back. And in the meantime, I’ll be careful. Add extra security at my apartment.”
“Sofia.”
