"Am I really just your housekeeper?"
He froze. The flash of panic in his eyes made him look, for just a moment, utterly exposed.
"Hiding something? What do you mean?"
"Caroline, did you remember something?"
I wanted to scream yes. I wanted to demand an explanation for everything he'd done to me.
But for some reason, when he asked that question, I shook my head as if something else had taken control of my body.
"No. I just feel like something's off. All of it."
The relief that washed over Barnaby's face was impossible to miss.
"You just went through a serious injury. Feeling disoriented right now is completely normal. It'll pass."
"Come on, let's go home. We can talk on the way."
On the drive back, Barnaby was behind the wheel. Lena sat in the passenger seat.
I sat in the back, staring at their intertwined fingers, a vicious ache spreading through my chest.
Barnaby talked and talked. He said we were about the same age. He said after my parents died and I had nowhere to go, he'd taken me in.
He said I wasn't really a housekeeper in the traditional sense. That in his heart, I was like a sister to him, just not by blood.
He said so much.
But he never once mentioned the five years we'd spent in love.