Julian has been wonderful, though. He’s more than patient, and he goes out of his way to make sure I have everything I need. The more I’m around him, the more I can see what must have attracted me in the first place. I realize it’s been only a short time that I’ve “known” him and that no one is perfect, but he definitely possesses more than his fair share of charm. If I weren’t in love with Gabriel, maybe I would be able to entertain the thought of being a wife to Julian in every sense of the word, but I can’t go there yet.
I place the marker on the page and close the book I’m reading. Julian’s last patient is at four thirty, and so he won’t be home until after five. I decide to call Gigi. Her phone rings four times, and just as I am ready to hang up, she answers. “Addison! How are you?”
“I’m okay. I’m sad, but I’m okay, Gigi.”
“Oh, honey. This is so rotten, what you’re going through. I wish I could do something to make it better.”
“I already feel better hearing your voice. I miss you,” I say, trying not to cry.
“I miss you too. This whole place feels so empty without you here.” She stops, and I hear what sounds like a stifled sob.
“Gigi,” I begin. “You and Ed, you’re like family to me. The only family I’ve known. You’ll always be part of my life, no matter what.”
“I hope so, Addy. I would hate to lose you.” I know she’s thinking of her own daughter too. “Tell me, have you been able to remember anything?”
“No, not really, but some things do seem familiar in a way. Julian’s been good to me, not rushing me, so that’s really helped.”
We talk for another fifteen minutes or so, and even laugh, and when we hang up, I feel better, more grounded. Gigi has always been able to do that for me. I pick up the book from my lap and try to read, but I’m unable to concentrate. I think about Valentina again. I’m grateful that Julian gave me time to adjust before bringing her home, although I’m sure it’s been difficult for both of them to be apart these extra three days. We talked about how much I should tell her. We don’t want to frighten her; she’s too young to be able to grasp the concept of amnesia. At first, he suggested we devise some sort of fantastical story to explain why I left and stayed away. Some of the scenarios he came up with sounded like fairy tales. But the more we discussed it, the more we came to the same conclusion. We want to tell her the truth in a way that is simple enough for her to understand, and will assure her that I didn’t deliberately abandon her.
I go back to my book, but soon my eyelids are heavy. I lower the book to my lap and close them.
*
My phone alarm goes off at five o’clock, startling me from sleep, and the book falls to the floor. The sun is beginning to lower in the sky, and the library has grown darker. I sit up straight in the chair, stretching and yawning at the same time, then rise and switch on a lamp. There’s a crimp in my back from sleeping in the deep-seated chair. Julian will be home any time now, and the nanny will be here in less than an hour with Valentina. As I climb the stairs to my room to brush my hair and freshen up, the thumping in my chest begins, and my armpits are damp. I’m as nervous as a deer in the crosshairs. I take my sweatshirt off, throwing it into the hamper, and pull a white cable-knit sweater on over my jeans. When I sit at the vanity, my eyes look tired in the mirror. I press the inner corners of my eyelids, hoping to correct it, and apply a peachy gloss to my lips. I wonder if Valentina will think I’ve changed since she last saw me.
Sighing at my reflection I reluctantly get up and head downstairs. My stomach feels like it’s twisting around itself, as if all of my insides are battling with each other. When I reach the bottom of the stairs, Julian is standing there.
“You’re home. I’m so nervous, Julian.” My hand grips the bannister.
“Don’t worry. It will be fine, I promise,” he says, and his quiet confidence and deep voice help to soothe me.
“Right. It’s going to be fine,” I repeat.
“Come,” Julian says, taking my hand. “She’ll be here any time now.”
Just as we reach the foyer, the front door opens, and Valentina enters with her nanny. I’m struck by how small and innocent she looks. She stands still, continuing to clutch her nanny’s hand, and stares at me, her eyes as big as saucers. Then she looks up at the older woman, who nods and smiles at Valentina.
“Sweetheart,” Julian says, rushing toward her and swooping her into his arms. “Mommy is home. Just like I told you.” He puts her down and then places a hand on Valentina’s back, gently moving her toward me.