He remembered.
The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. My stomach danced with joy but my chest tightened knowing he kept the big moment from me. I didn't need him to confirm my suspicios, I knew in my gut and the last thing he said.
Why had he been pretending still? I mean, I knew he had changed, he was almost back to his usual self but I just thought he was warming up to the idea of me. Or as I would prefer to believe; some inner part of him realised he once loved me.
I pulled back away from him but his grip around me tightened like he could sense I was just about to push him away.
"Richard." My voice was soft, careful, fragile as I was torn between being happy and pissed. "How long?"
He stared ahead and opened his mouth to say something but didn't. Was he searching for the right words? Was he planning to lie? He was just in my bed last night, the first time since all hell broke loose and he didn't think I deserved to know that his memories were back?
