“Winter looms.” Loch pulls his phone from his pocket and starts texting. “You’re going to need clothes.” Not looking at me, he continues to text. “I’ll have some sent over unless you have a store preference.” His gaze slides over the leather seat and higher to meet my eyes.
“I don’t remember.” I shake my head, already feeling annoyed with the answer. Will I ever remember, or am I stuck learning to live my life all over again? He doesn’t say anything and starts typing again. Swallowing my pride, I whisper, “I appreciate it, but nothing expensive. You’re already doing so much for me.”
Although nothing rings any bells, so to speak, as we travel through the city, I smile because of the relief I feel tucked inside this vehicle. “I bet I live in Manhattan.”
“Yeah?” My comment piques Loch’s interest, and he rests the phone on the seat next to him.
I nod. “Based on what I’m wearing, the officer thinks the mugger targeted me for the brand of bag I was carrying. They’ve requested footage from the buildings, but I’m sure he’s right.”
“That makes sense.” Unlike the world outside, in the back of this SUV, he appears unhurried, which surprises me, considering he said he was supposed to be in court. Not sure if I’m reading him or the situation well, but a sense of peace washes through me.
Is that what I’m doing?
Trusting Loch?
Since I have nothing left to lose, I settle in for the ride and glance out the window again. “I could live anywhere, and I wouldn’t know it.” Taking a staggering breath, I confess, “Amnesia is strange. I go from feeling nothing to a tidal wave of emotion all at once.” I hold in the oncoming wave the best I can before it crashes down on me again. I don’t want to break down in front of him.
“Nothing looks familiar?” A question within a question is heard from the intonation of his dulcet tone.
“In my heart, everything feels familiar as if I’ve been here before, but in my head, nothing feels like my own.” Looking at him in the shadows, I add, “The truth is, I’m at a loss for more than my memory.” I’m in so deep that there’s no point in hiding anything anymore, even the one thing I’ve kept closest to my chest since I woke up. “I’ve lost myself.”
It's quiet for only a second, and then he lowers his head and his voice between us. “I’m sorry.”
I don’t know why he’s apologizing, but his sincerity makes me feel less alone. Or maybe it’s him that makes me feel better.
5
Tuesday
This is it.
Loch called the hotel a palace earlier, and it lives up to the name. It’s grand, and if I wasn’t dressed in a hospital gown, I might be inclined to feel more like a princess. But the nerves making my hands shake and my breath quicken bury that fantasy.
Even though it’s inevitable Loch will be leaving, once he does, I’m truly on my own. It’s going to be okay. I try to reassure myself to calm my racing thoughts. I know I shouldn’t worry so much. As soon as a missing persons report hits the system, I’ll be notified and reconnected with my old life.
What if no one files a report?
What if no one misses me?
What if—
“This is where my family used to stay when they came to the city.” Loch stands next to me in the lobby. He glances in my direction, seemingly doing a double take. “Is everything all right?”
I swallow hard, feeling the heaviness in my throat. He can’t be responsible for me forever. Be brave, Tuesday. The name still feels wrong. “Fine,” I snap with irritation not intended for him. Licking my lips, I take a breath and face him. Loch Westcott is all I have. “I’m sorry,” I reply, exhaling a deep breath. “Everything is fine. Thank you for asking.”
He angles toward me, and leans in to whisper, “Are you sure?”
Is it wrong to want him to stay?
Is it unwise to invite him up?
I already know the answer . . . That doesn’t stop me from dragging our time out just a little longer. “Where does your family stay now when they visit?”
“They have an apartment on the Upper East Side.”
“Ah.” I grin, a sudden realization hitting me like a ton of bricks. Appearances can be deceiving, but I know how to piece a puzzle together. The private car and driver, the suit, his profession, and the wealthy family who lives in an upscale Manhattan neighborhood. The details all add up to one big picture. Loch is rich.
Even tucked in, my raggedy hospital gown makes me feel underdressed in the luxury of this place and around him. I only have to suck up my pride a little longer. I’m so close to a hot bath, a comfy bathrobe, and a good night’s sleep that I can taste it. That is if I can manage to fall asleep. How can there be so much on my mind while it’s blank of anything that matters?
I stand straighter, walking beside Loch as we’re led to a private desk to check in. Circling the room, I run my fingers along the backs of overstuffed velvet chairs and a bookcase full of dusty spines. The old books with worn covers tempt me. I want to take them down and smell the musty pages. Is anything so soothing as an old book full of adventures?
The transaction is fast. As deals probably are when you have money of Loch’s magnitude. He comes to me and gives me the keys. The attendant moves back to the main lobby and then turns back to us. “I’ll have your bags placed in the room.” Then he looks around. “Do you have luggage?”
“Some packages will be delivered shortly,” Loch says. I catch his gaze on me, but as if he’s being forced to look away, he pulls his attention back to the manager.
“Very well. I’ll have them delivered to Ms. Westcott’s room as soon as they arrive.” Westcott?
“Thank you,” he adds, his voice as stiff as his shoulders.
I grin ruthlessly, taking pleasure in this. “Care to explain?”
It’s hard to be upset when I look into his eyes, but then he says, “He thought you were a call girl.”
That’ll do it.
“What?” My head jerks back. I glance back over my shoulder at the hotel clerk. Speaking of jerks . . . But for real, I’m in a hospital gown that ties at the back. When I turn back to Loch, I ask, “What in Hades would make him think that?”
He runs his hand over his hair, looking down briefly. “He asked me your last name. When I hesitated, I saw the look on his face. I was caught in the heat of the moment, so I went with Westcott.”
“Your last name? Because that makes sense,” I snark and roll my eyes.
“Would you have preferred Smith or Dawson? Maybe Johnson or Johnston?” Annoyance has his gaze hardening as he stares across the palatial lobby. When he eyes me, he adds, “Or maybe her highness suits you better.”
I try it on for size, but I get nothing, not a vibe or any inkling from it. “Okay. Okay. I get it. Trust me, I get it. Westcott isn’t so bad.”
“Wow, thanks.” I almost get an eye roll out of him, but he stops himself.
“No, I didn’t mean it that way. I know he put you on the spot, but please understand how embarrassing it is not to know your own name.”