His face contorts in shame. "Yes. I have a photographic memory."
"Why on earth would you be embarrassed by that? Especially around me." I sit up straight. "In fact, I just realized you know almost every mortifying fact about me, but I know none about you." I flop back on the couch. "I want to know three embarrassing things equal to rehab, in love with my best friend and suicide. If you can. I dare you. Top those."
Jem glances at me, and I raise an eyebrow. He takes a second to gain courage, and then says, "My parents never loved me." My eyebrows drop. "We were…adopted. Father thrust us upon Mother, but even he never treated us as children. I was raised by nannies and tutors, subjected to psychiatrists, doctors, and trainers to make us the best we could possibly be. We barely left the compound, rarely associated with other children. We were treated more as experiments than children. I didn't go to proper school until I was thirteen when I began college. I was so frightened there among…people, I barely uttered a word the entire first year. Does that count?"
"Hell, yes. I-I'm so sorry."
"As you said before, 'Alls well, yada yada.' They're dead now."
"Did you ever try to find your birth parents?"
"All the records were destroyed in the fire. That's how they died. I was away at college at the time. Jordan drove up to tell me, then he vanished for awhile."
"Why?"
"He said he wanted to 'discover who he really was,'" he says with disdain. "I refused to go with him. He took it badly."
"You were in college, you couldn't just drop everything."
"That's what I said, but once he gets his mind set to something…" He shakes his head.
"Do you keep in contact with him?"
"We…see each other on occasion. I have no idea where he is right now, what he's up to," Jem says grimly.
"That bothers you."
"More than you can imagine." He disappears into his head, and judging from his expression, it's not a good journey. He snaps out of it with a half smile. "Anyway. Can that be number two?"
"I'll count it. So, what's number three?"
His gaze returns to the TV with a frown. He hangs his head for a moment. "Well, um," he clears his throat, "I…as you may have noticed…" He scowls, "I've only ever had one girlfriend. My-My fiancée. I-I-I never learned flirting or other social graces. Women tend to think I'm odd, and there were…other considerations. And since Uma, I suppose before her even, I've been so focused on my work it didn't seem that important."
"Save millions of people's lives or go on a coffee date. I can understand that."
"You can?" he asks as if a weight has lifted.
"Yeah. I mean, I was all about my career. Still am I guess. Whenever I was sitting across from some man droning on about golf, I wished I was back at the precinct or running down a lead. It's what made me happy, not…you know. I mean, it felt physically good when it was happening but hollow. There are more than a few encounters I wish I could take back. No, realizing what's important to you and doing it, despite what others think, is admirable. Just so long as when the real thing comes along, you don't bury your head in the sand from fear." I shrug. "So, do I know all your secrets now? Nothing else you want to tell me?"
"I…no. That's all."
"Then I win. I've had a far more embarrassing life than you. You never have to be nervous around me again."
"I…okay."
I yawn. "Good." I turn back to the movie and snuggle on the armrest before pulling my legs onto the couch. "Then I do believe this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship, Dr. Ambrose." I close my eyes. Damn, am I tired. I yawn again and stretch out my legs so my feet touch his thigh.
I feel the warmth of his hand hovering over my bare foot for a few seconds before he hesitantly rests it there. "Friends."
I fall asleep minutes later enjoying the feel of him against my skin. It's enough. For now.
CHAPTER SIX
Independent Woman
A person would think that those who can afford a thirty dollar salad would have manners, but I guess money can't buy you class. Even hundreds of miles from home and people still feel the need to point me out to their dining companions. A man I recognize as a Senator stares with impunity. Not even my glare stops his rude behavior. It's been a fucking year, I should be yesterday's news by now. Nope, still a circus freak.
Lucy's late. I figured if I was in Independence, her new homestead, I should take her out to lunch. A pittance for basically saving my life, but it's a start. Last time I saw her was just after I got out of rehab. She and Dobbs picked me up, drove me home, and she stuck around for two days just to make sure I settled back in. Hell she even attended my first AA meeting on the outside with me. Lucy may look down on me, she may not approve, hell I'm not even sure she likes me, but that woman was more of a mother to me than Maeve ever was.