Page 28 of My Dark Prince
He pulled a pen out of his clipboard and began jotting notes. “What hurts?”
“Everything apart from my toes. I can’t feel them.”
“Do you remember what happened?”
I shook my head, tears stinging the backs of my eyelids. I didn’t know anything. Not what happened, not where I lived, who my friends were, what I did for a living …
“Please stay calm.” Doctor Cohen paused to pat my hand. “I’m here to catch you up on everything. There’s nothing to worry about. This is completely typical for your kind of injury.”
“W—” I hesitated, scared of what I’d hear. “What happened to me?”
“You slipped into a water hazard on a golf course.”
My head spun. “Golf course?”
I didn’t know how to golf, and I’d never taken interest in it. Jason and Philomena Auer dedicated whole weekendsto the sport, which was enough reason for me to avoid it entirely.
“You hit your head pretty hard on machinery on your way down and suffered a concussion.”
A flash of memory zipped through my mind like thunder. Water. I remembered water. A lot of it. Everywhere.
“How long was I underwater?”
“Not very long. He said a minute or two, maybe.”
“He?”
“Your rescuer.” Doctor Cohen set down his clipboard, hooking it on the edge of the bed. “A man by the name of Oliver von Bismarck.”
Oliver.
Butterflies fluttered behind my ribcage. I remembered Oliver. My boyfriend. No. More than that. My …everything. And he saved me. We were still together.
The instant relief that settled into my bones swept away the nerves.
I rolled my shoulders back, shocked at how much less it ached, now that I had some semblance of familiarity to clutch onto. “Is he okay?”
“Yes, he’s fine. You’ve got quite the sturdy workhorse out there. Came in dripping wet and stripped in the halls after we assured him you’d be fine.”
I laughed, wincing at the way my throat twisted and scratched. “Stripped?”
That sounded like Oliver alright.
“Gave the nurses quite the show.” Doctor Cohen must’ve caught my horror because he shook his head, unable to hold back his grin. “Don’t worry. He kept his pants on. The nurses offered him a spare shirt.”
“Where is he now?”
“Waiting outside. Do you remember him?”
“I do.” I paused, thinking, trying to remember the last time we saw each other. It felt like chasing a finish line that wouldn’t stop moving. “I remember being close to him.”
Flashes of that day on the lake flickered in my head. Him, promising forever. Me, clawing at his back for a deeper kiss. My cheeks flushed. I cleared my throat, fighting the wave of longing that swept through my chest.
Doctor Cohen waited patiently, encouraging me to continue with a nod.
“Is he my …?” I left the question hanging.Partner? Best friend? Husband?
No. Not husband. I wasn’t particularly attached to the Auer last name, all things considered. I doubt I’d even hesitate to change my last name to von Bismarck if we married.
