My blood insta-boiled. I surged to my feet and paced the tile of the room, but that wasn’t enough. I added the kitchen to my pacing route, and that still didn’t help. Outside, I marched the length of my gravel drive all the way to the street and back, but on the second time through, I kept going. Each of my steps could have registered on the Richter scale, I was stomping it out so hard.
I could do joint damage.
It wasn’t good to be this upset.
Especially without knowing what had caused the situation. Finally, when I could breathe better, I called up Tennille. In my sweetest, calmest voice I asked, “You said you sent me some paperwork, right?”
“I thought maybe you hadn’t seen it yet.”
“It’s for real, then?”
“Sure. The lawyers hammered it out perfectly.”
“Lawyers.” Plural. Tennille was one of the few people who’d known the whole sequence of my memory losses. “Did anyone advise me about it?” I had to ask.
“Sure. We went through everything, and you okayed it with someone you trusted, and—you don’t remember?”
She knew I didn’t remember. My neck grew hot, and I pulled at my shirt collar. “Refresh my memory.”
“Come on, Danica. It’s late. I’m with Liam. We haven’t had a date night in weeks, since you left me the full responsibility of the gym. Call me back later.”
She hung up.
But I was still hung up on the paperwork. You went through it with someone you trusted. If it had happened during my Between Episode—why was I using that annoying phrase right now—that could likely mean only one person.
I scrolled through my contacts and dialed the number listed for Jeremy Hotston.