"Yes, they told me that," she said, glad her face didn't go scarlet at the mention of Montague. "Although they both seem very happy about it. I just don't think I'm cut out for motherhood. Too selfish by far."
She fought to keep her emotions under control for a second, dropping her gaze until she'd gotten herself together. She didn't like talking about her memory so much, not when she knew no more than anybody else. "They don't know. I'm having to keep a diary, write when I forget, times, memories and things. They're hoping it'll give them a pattern so they'll know how to treat me."
She raised an eyebrow. "How? If I wasn't so sure that I shouldn't be telling anybody, I'd tell you, but suffice to say my memory loss isn't brilliant. I've been saying things I certainly shouldn't be saying," she said vaguely. "It's just frustrating. I don't even remember my friends."