Roman shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. Just… I’m sure you have a lot of questions. Maybe I can try to answer them for you. Maybe it’ll jog your memory.”
“Okay. Uh, how did… How did we meet?”
“We were both taken in by your uncle, Charles. You were named after him, actually.”
Uncle Charles.
I repeat the name over and over again, but it doesn’t ring any bells.
“Why did he take us in?” I ask, whispering.
“Your parents passed away in a car accident when you were seven.”
The pressure in my skull builds as tears sting my eyes. I can’t even remember my parents. I can’t remember the man who supposedly took me in and gave me a home. I set my jaw to bite back at the sob I know is building in my throat.
“Oh,” I utter feebly. “And you? Why’d he take you in?”
“I was in and out of the foster care system growing up. Charles was the first foster I didn’t want to run away from. He put us through the same private school, though you were two years ahead of me.”
“Uncle Charles seems like a really generous guy.”
“Yeah. He was pretty great.”
I choke. “Was?”
Roman sighs heavily. “I’m afraid he passed away a couple of months ago.”
A tear betrays me and streaks down my cheek. The rush of emotions flooding my veins is enough to have me seeing stars. My chest constricts with guilt. How could I have forgotten my family? What is wrong with me? Why do I feel so terribly, distressingly alone over people I can’t even remember? If Uncle Charles’ death was recent, shouldn’t I feel mournful? But how can I when I don’t even know who he is?
Was.
My heart aches and twists as the air is squeezed from my lungs in the form of sobs. The tips of my fingers and toes are tingling, my palms cold and sweaty and so gross. I’m exhausted and sad and angry and everything in between. I don’t even realize I’m wheezing, gasping for breath as I cry even harder, shoulders shaking uncontrollably as I weep.
Roman moves slowly, getting up from the little cot he’s been sitting on to carefully sit by my side on the edge of the hospital bed. He places a strong arm over my shoulder. It surprises me just how easy it is for me to lean into his touch, pressing my face against his chest as I try my best to calm down. He still has a hold of my hand, his grip firm and comforting and warm. I may not know who Roman really is, but I can’t stand the thought of being by myself right now. I’m lost in a storm, and Roman’s the closest thing I have to an anchor.
“It’s okay, Charlie,” he mumbles into my hair. “You’re safe.”
“I’m sorry,” I gasp out between sobs.
“What for?”
“I’m making your shirt all gross.”
Roman chuckles softly and strengthens his hold around me.
It’s such a lovely sound.
“You cry as much as you want to,” he says. “I don’t mind.”
“Th-thank you. You’re really sweet.”
It takes a while for me to settle down, but I eventually lose the strength to be upset anymore. I’m tired and a little cranky, lost and totally speechless. I allow myself to get lost in Roman’s warmth. He smells nice, a bit like spicy aftershave and sunblock. Roman holds me firmly, but I can’t help but notice the slight awkwardness to his angle.
It’s like he’s unsure of himself, like embracing me is something he’s never actually done before. I chalk it up to Roman trying not to crowd me, but there’s no denying that despite the lack of physical distance between us, there’s a space keeping us apart, something missing from the bigger picture. What that’s supposed to be, I’m not sure at all.
The doctor arrives a few minutes later. He’s a stout man with a bushy white and gray moustache. He comes in with a tablet in hand, scrolling through what I can only imagine would be my medical chart.
“Hello, Charlie,” he greets. “I’m Doctor Lopez. I’m glad to see you’re awake. How are you feeling? Any pain or discomfort?”
“A little dizzy,” I tell him. “And my head hurts.”
The doctor walks over and conducts a thorough examination. The whole time, I refuse to let go of Roman. His presence is steadying and calming, and I’m worried that if he moves away, I’ll fall victim to my panic again.
“Louisa tells me you’re having trouble recollecting your past,” he says.
I nod slowly. “Yes.”
“Nothing at all? Not even your name? Your job?”
I swallow, my mouth terribly dry. It didn’t even occur to me that I might have a job, a life. I have nothing to go on, no clue as to who I really am.
“No,” I reply. “I just know my name’s Charlie.”
“We’ll have you stay the night,” the doctor says. “For observational purposes.”
“Is she going to be okay?” Roman asks.
The doctor looks a bit solemn, which does little to settle my nerves. “Brain trauma can be a tricky thing. I’ll likely have Charlie undergo another scan so we can see if everything’s functioning as it should. Her lack of memories is troubling, but for now, not a cause for concern.”
“How is this not a cause for concern?” Roman says, bite to his tone. “She can’t remember anything. What if… What if it’s permanent?”
“Most cases of retrograde amnesia are often not permanent. I’m sure given time and an appropriate amount of rest your memories will return.”
I sigh in relief. “That’s… That’s good.”
“This is, of course, not always the case. But I promise we’ll do everything we can to assist you and your recovery. I’ll go ahead and get you on the list for an MRI.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Roman says for me.
I cling to him as the doctor leaves, the warmth of his body and the hardness of his frame my only solace. I can’t imagine what he’s going through. He’s a stranger to me, but I’m clearly not a stranger to him. If I’m really his wife, then this must all be as terrifying for him as it is for me. Roman holds me so gently, speaks with such care that my heart hurts for him. In a weird way, I feel like I’m mourning on his behalf.
I lost my memories. He lost his wife.
“Roman?”
“Yes?”
“I… Thank you. For being so patient with me.”
“There’s no need to thank me, Charlie.”
“No, it’s… You’re probably freaking out as much as I am, but you seem so calm about everything. I’m sorry I can’t remember you. I… I feel really bad that I can’t… God. I can’t even remember our wedding.”
Roman gives my hand a squeeze. “Don’t apologize. We’ll figure this out together, okay?”
While his words are kind, there’s a nervousness about Roman I can’t figure out. He seems like a genuinely nice person, but as far as I’m concerned, I’ve known him for a whole ten minutes. Curiosity drives me. Who is he to me? Can I really trust him?
Why can’t I shake the feeling that not everything is as it seems?
CHAPTER FOUR
Roman
I’m a mess of questions and deep self-hatred.
Why did I have to say we were married? In all fairness, Louisa kind of made the assumption for me, so at the end of the day, I suppose I can just blame her. But I know I could have denied it. Everything happened so quickly and I panicked, and I’m unfortunately known for making terrible decisions.
Like flying to the Cayman Islands last minute to try to convince Charlie to give back the inheritance money only for her to suffer a potentially life-altering brain injury.
I’m probably going to Hell.
Charlie gets a couple hours of sleep, giving me ample time to freak the fuck out. I’m sweaty, but I’m terribly cold. My lips are dry, I can’t stop bouncing my knee, and I’ve wrung my fingers into a knot.
I shouldn’t have said I’m Charlie’s husband, but if the hospital found out the truth, they’d likely kick me out. If that happens, Charlie really will have nobody. We don’t have
any family back in Chicago, and I suspect there isn’t a special someone in her life. Surely they would have called to check up on her by now, or at least be here in the Cayman Islands to spend time with her. We’re not close, but I am the closest thing she has to a friend.
A really distant friend that Charlie hates to the core.
She’s going to hate me even more when she remembers everything.
She’s going to hate me when she finds out I lied.
I drag my clammy palms over my face and groan. “Fuck.”
“Roman?”
I look up quickly and find Charlie on the cusp of waking. “H-hey. Hi.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh, I’m–” I compose myself as best I can. “Sorry. Did I wake you?”
“No. I’m having trouble sleeping.”
“Why? Does your head hurt? I can call the nurse for you.”
“No, that’s okay. Thank you. I’m just restless.”
This is the most civil we’ve been to one another in almost ten years. We didn’t always used to be at each other’s throats. Or rather, Charlie didn’t always used to be at my throat. I can’t pinpoint the exact moment when things between us started to deteriorate, when she stopped seeing me as a friend and started seeing me as a nuisance.
I can’t pinpoint the exact moment I started to have feelings for her, either. Since she was two grades above me in school, I only ever saw her in passing. We’d see each other in the halls, before and after school when Thomas, Charles’ personal driver, dropped us off and picked us up. Charlie was always surrounded by friends, all of them way older and more intimidating than me. I couldn’t really approach her without earning judgemental sneers from the pack of girls who always trailed behind her. Charlie didn’t used to be hostile to me, though. Sometimes, on rare days, she’d throw me a smile or a small wave.
And one day, she was suddenly distant. Miles away.
Cold.
But sitting before me now, Charlie’s unnervingly sweet and quiet. I have to admit I like the way she seems to hang off my every word, eager for answers. I know the circumstances for doing so are terrible, but I like how much she appears to need me. I think Charlie can sense that I’m her only connection to her old life, maybe even the bridge to getting her memories back.
There’s no telling when she’ll return to her old self again, or if she ever will. But until that happens, I promise to stay with her. Charlie’s lost, clearly struggling. If I turn away, try to back out of this horrible situation—that I ultimately caused—I won’t be able to forgive myself. As long as she wants me around, I’ll be here for her.
“Can you… Can you tell me more about yourself?” she asks timidly. “I’m sorry,” Charlie adds for good measure.
The corner of my lips ticc up into a small, fond smile. The old Charlie never would have apologized to me. She was far too proud, brimming with confidence. It’s one of the things I love about her. Charlie’s the kind of woman who can walk into any room and command everyone’s attention. She’s like a star, burning brighter and hotter than her peers.
“What would you like to know?” I ask. My heart’s thundering in my chest. I pray she doesn’t ask something too complicated. The last thing I need right now is to trip over my own lies. She thinks we’re married. She thinks we’re on our honeymoon. If I come clean now, Charlie may never trust me again. If that happens, there’s no telling what kind of a downward spiral she’ll descend.
Charlie nibbles on her bottom lip, appearing deep in thought. “What kind of work do you do?”
I resist the urge to sigh in relief. This, I can answer. “I run an immediate crisis care charity called Phoenix House. It strives to provide shelter, food, and additional resources for at-risk youth.”
Charlie stares at me. “Wow. That’s… That’s really awesome of you.”
The sinking feeling in my stomach almost makes me hurl. Old Charlie didn’t seem to give a shit about my charity or my cause. But this? This is actually nice.
And so, so weird.
With her memories stripped away, I feel like the woman I’m talking to is the real Charlie. There’s no façade, no need or urge for her to pretend. She’s suddenly the woman I knew was always there, hidden beneath layer upon layer of protection. Business and running a multi-billion-dollar company has made Charlie hard over the years. This is the first time in a long time that I’m getting a glimpse at what she used to be like.
I’m ashamed and a little relieved she doesn’t remember me. It was impossible to spend more than a minute alone in a room together, mainly because Charlie couldn’t stand me. I don’t know what I did to make her hate me, but I know I must have done something. I always meant to ask and apologize for whatever transgression I’d committed, but now I might never get to know the truth.
“You said we went to school together,” she whispers. “What was that like?”
I shrug and manage a small smile. “It was school, so kind of boring. For me, at least.”
“Did we hang out a lot?”
“Not really. I was too shy to talk to you.”
Charlie tilts her head to the side, raising an eyebrow. “Really?”
“I remember thinking you were too pretty to talk to a nerd like me,” I answer honestly. This really is the truth.
“Then… When did we start seeing each other?”
The question stuns me into silence. It wasn’t my intention to back myself into this whole we’re married schtick. I want to come out and tell her this whole thing’s fake. Our marriage is fake, and we’re not really friends, but I want to be. At the very least, I’d like things to be polite.
“I didn’t ask you out until two years ago,” I lie, keeping my tone even as possible.
“Why’d you wait so long?”
I find myself pulling facts to create fiction. “You went to Oxford to study business abroad. I stayed in Chicago. Things got pretty busy for the both of us, and the only time we got to see each other was over the winter holidays. I really didn’t have the chance to ask you, and I didn’t think you’d appreciate long distance. So I waited.”
Charlie listens intently, hanging off my every word. It’s nice to feel so needed, as stupid as that may sound.
“What was our first date?”
“We watched a movie and went out to dinner.”
She crinkles her nose, disbelief wrinkling her brow. “That doesn’t… Sorry.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know. For some reason that doesn’t sound like me.”
My heart skips a beat. Is she getting some of her memory back? Is she starting to suspect that I’m full of shit?
“I don’t think I like crowded spaces,” she mumbles. “I think movie theaters are… I don’t know why, but I can’t stop thinking they’re super dirty and I hate that.”
I’m on thin ice. If ever there was a time I regretted not taking an improv class in college, it’s now.
“We didn’t go to the theater. We stayed home and watched your favorite Disney movie off your projector.”
“The Princess and the Frog?” she asks immediately, a flicker of her old self shining through.
I breathe a sigh of relief, grateful she’s answering for me. There’s no telling what might spark her recollection.
“Exactly,” I say. “The Princess and the Frog. You like Tianna because she’s so hardworking.”
She crinkles her nose again. “That doesn’t sound right either?”
“No? That’s what you told me.”
“I like that firefly more, I think.”
“Why’s that?”
Charlie doesn’t look certain of herself, but she replies, “I like that he’s a hopeless romantic.”
I hold in a delighted laugh. Never in a million years did I expect her to say that.
“You like hopeless romantics?”
The corners of her lips curl into a small, pleasant smile. She really is gorgeous when she’s not scowling at me.
“I v
aguely remember… I think I have a collection of romance novels at home somewhere. I think I… I keep them a secret because I’m embarrassed people will judge me for it.”
My heart simultaneously warms and twists, elated only to be engulfed in a dull pain. This is the most honest I’ve ever seen Charlie. In the last half hour, I’ve learned more about her than I have in my entire life knowing her.
“I don’t judge you,” I assure her. “There’s nothing wrong with liking romance books.”
Her smile is sweet. “Thank you. I’m glad to know my secret’s safe.”
She reaches for my hand and gives my fingers a squeeze. Her skin’s so wondrously soft it’s almost unbelievable. Despite the fuzzy warmth she manages to send through my system, I can’t get rid of the unease resting in the pit of my stomach. I can see Charlie’s starting to open up, beginning to trust. If things all go to shit and she realizes I’ve been lying this whole time, I’ll only hurt her.
But I’m in too deep now. No matter what I do, I can’t seem to stop digging my own grave. I can’t abandon her now when she has nobody. I’m the closest thing she has to family. She needs someone to take care of her, to make sure she gets back on her feet okay.
And if I have to tell a lie or two to get the job done, I’ll do it.
Damn the consequences.
CHAPTER FIVE
Charlie
The doctor thinks it’s okay for me to checkout. As far as brain trauma goes, the supposed bruising and minor swelling has healed completely. My memories are still entirely elusive, but as the hours past, I’m able to grasp onto more and more tidbits of my former life.
I somehow know that ravioli in alfredo sauce is my favorite meal. Somehow, I know I don’t know how to ride a bicycle, I like to swim lanes for daily exercise, and I have a strong distaste for bananas. Part of me is frustrated that I’m not remembering anything more useful, but at least it’s progress.
Roman’s still in the hospital room packing up my things for me while I wait out in the reception area next to the nurses' station. Louisa’s manning the desk, organizing my hospital release forms and pointing to lines that require my signature.
Forgotten Inheritance (Inherit Love Book 6) Page 3