“It would be very hard. I might even doubt what I was being told.”
“Exactly. Especially if you had been mentally and physically tortured for several months.”
“I understand.”
I stood, my heart breaking all over again. Ren touched my hand as I passed.
“I don’t mean to hurt your feelings. There are a lot of worse things I can imagine than being told I have a sweet, kind girlfriend that I can’t remember. I just need time to wrap my mind around this.”
“Ren? Do you think? I mean, is there any possibility? Could you learn to . . . to love me again?”
He looked at me thoughtfully for a moment and said, “I’ll try.”
I nodded mutely. He dropped my hand, and I shut myself in my room.
He’ll try.
A week went by with little to no improvement. He couldn’t remember anything about me despite the efforts of Kishan, Mr. Kadam, and Nilima. He began to lose patience with everyone except Nilima, who he liked to visit. I figured she bothered him much less about it. She didn’t know me as well as the others and spoke of things both of them remembered.
I made him every dish he’d liked while in Oregon, including my chocolate peanut butter cookies. The first time he ate them he seemed to enjoy them, but then I explained the significance of the cookies, and the second time he was less enthusiastic. He didn’t want me to be disappointed when eating them didn’t trigger his memory. Kishan took advantage of his reluctance and single-handedly polished off every batch I made. I stopped cooking soon after that.
I came to dinner one night and found everyone staring eagerly at me from the dining room, which had been decorated with peach and ivory streamers. A large layer cake rested in the center of a beautifully decorated table.
“Happy Birthday, Miss Kelsey!” Mr. Kadam exclaimed.
“My birthday? I totally forgot!”
“How old are you now, Kells?” asked Kishan.
“Umm . . . nineteen.”
“Well, she’s still a baby. Eh, Ren?”
Ren nodded and smiled politely.
Kishan grabbed me in a hug. “Here. Have a seat while I get your presents.”
Kishan helped me sit, and then left to gather the gifts. Mr. Kadam had used the Golden Fruit to summon my favorite dinner: a cheeseburger, French fries, and a chocolate malt. Everyone else got to pick their favorite meals as well, and we all laughed and remarked on our neighbors’ selections. It was the first time I’d laughed in quite a while.
After we finished dinner, Kishan announced it was present time. I opened Nilima’s gift first. She gave me an expensive bottle of French perfume, which I passed around.
Kishan smelled it and grunted. “Her natural scent is much better.”
When it got to Ren, he smiled at Nilima, and said, “I like it.”
The easy smile slipped off my face.
Next was Mr. Kadam’s present. He pushed an envelope across the table. He winked at me as I slipped my finger under the edge to open it. Inside was a picture of a car.
I held it up. “What’s this?”
“It’s a new car.”
“I don’t need a new car. I have the Boxster at home.”
He shook his head sadly. “It’s gone. I’ve sold it and the house through another organization. Lokesh knew about it and could have traced it to us, so I’ve covered our tracks.”
I waved the picture around and grinned. “And what type of car did you decide I needed this time?”
“It’s nothing really. Just something to get you from here to there.”
“What’s it called?”
“It’s a McLaren SLR 722 Roadster.”
“How big is it?”
“It’s a convertible.”
“Will a tiger fit?”
“No. It seats only two, but the boys are men half the day now.”
“Is it more than $30,000?”
He squirmed and hedged, “Yes, but—”
“How much more?”
“Much more.”
“How much more?”
“About $400,000 more.”
My mouth dropped open. “Mr. Kadam!”
“Miss Kelsey, I know it’s extravagant, but when you drive it, you will see it’s worth every cent.”
I folded my hands across my chest. “I won’t drive it.”
He looked offended. “That car was meant to be driven.”
“Then you drive it. I’ll drive the Jeep.”
He looked tempted. “If it will appease you, perhaps we can share it.”
Kishan clapped his hands. “I can’t wait.”
Mr. Kadam wagged a finger at him. “Oh, no! Not you. We’ll get you a nice sedan. Used.”
“I’m a good driver!” Kishan protested.
“You need more training.”
I stopped them, laughing. “Okay. When the car arrives, we’ll talk about it some more.”
“The car is already here, Miss Kelsey. It’s in the garage as we speak. Perhaps we can go for a drive