GINA: OMG! Finally. You went dark.
MATEO: I’m OK.
GINA: Apparently!! You’re dating a super-hot NHL player who deeply adores you!
I cringe.
Florian toldme he loves me.
But then, I told him I loved him too.
Can I go to hell for that? No, surely not, it’s not that terrible to say you love someone.
Hopefully.
It’s just that—I’ve never said that to anyone before. No one except Gina. And my parents.
No one romantically.
And now I will not only have to tell Florian that his boyfriend whom he, inexplicably, has decided he loves and has confirmed loves him back, is not in fact his boyfriend, is no one close to him, and that he has come out to his family and paparazzi.
Shit.
MATEO: He lost his memory, Gina. And he got… confused.
GINA: What???
MATEO: Don’t tell anyone!!
GINA: I won’t. But seriously?
MATEO: He woke up from a coma, and I was there. It was a natural assumption.
GINA: If I woke up from a coma, and a woman was there, I wouldn’t assume she was my girlfriend.
MATEO: Well, that’s you. It’s not his fault.
GINA: Hmph.
MATEO: I need clothes.
GINA: Oh, yeah?
MATEO: He thinks I spend a lot of time here! He’ll have questions if I don’t have things.
GINA: Lol.
MATEO: I need at least a toothbrush.
GINA: You want me to bring you clothes.
MATEO: Goddess!
GINA: Fine.
I text Gina Florian’s information, then I pace Florian’s living room while I wait for her to come. It’s nice. Of course it is.
It’s a one-bedroom apartment in a luxury tower in Seaport. Every appliance is new, every counter and cabinet gleams, and the whole place radiates expense.
