"Are you sure?"
"Yes. I'm fine. Honestly."
"I'm glad to hear from one of us," he said, giving her an apathetic smile. "I was scared when I saw you were hurt." He scoured a hand through his hair.
"Keep doing that, and you're reaching to drag it out."
He frowned at her comment. "I guess it's a reflex. I was stressed. It wouldn't astonish me to discover every hair on my head has turned white," he told her, another half-smile curling his mouth.
"No," said Rafaella. His hair was dark brown as chocolate and tended to curl only at the edges. He looked and sounded so familiar. So why couldn't she remember who he was or how he fit into her life?
"God. I was so frightened I was reaching to lose you," he said, his voice crude. All traces of humor disappeared. He pressed his eyes closed for a mi
