Читать книгу The Wife He Couldn't Forget - Yvonne Lindsay - Страница 10

Four

Sleep in the same bed?

Olivia froze in the doorway of the guest bedroom and watched as Xander made his way carefully down the hall to the master suite. She followed, then halted again as she watched Xander strip off his clothes and tumble, naked, into the side of the bed that had always been his. He was asleep in seconds. She watched him for a full five minutes, unsure of what to do. In the end, she grabbed her nightgown from under her pillow and slipped into the en suite bathroom to get ready for bed. By the time she’d washed her face and brushed her teeth her heart was pounding a million miles a minute.

He’d done so many things automatically in the few short hours since they’d returned to the house. It had been reassuring and frightening at the same time. It showed the damage from his injury hadn’t destroyed everything in his mind, but it certainly raised questions, for her at least, about how long she’d have before he might remember everything.

Olivia gingerly slid under the bedsheets, trying not to disturb Xander, and rolled onto her side—taking care to stay well clear of him—so she could watch him sleep. She listened to one long deep breath after another, finding it hard to believe he was actually here. His breathing pattern changed, and he suddenly rolled over to face her.

“What are you doing all the way over there on the edge? I’ve missed you next to me long enough already.” His voice was thick with sleep; he reached an arm around her to pull her toward him and snuggled her into his bare chest. “You can touch me. I’m not made of spun glass, you know.”

And with that, he was asleep again.

Olivia could barely draw a breath. Every cell in her body urged her to allow her body to sink into his, to let herself soak up his warmth, his comfort. He felt so familiar and yet different at the same time. But the steady heartbeat beneath her ear was the same. And, right now, that heart beat for her. How could she not simply relish the moment, take pleasure in it, accept it for what it was worth?

Gold. Spun gold. Jewels beyond compare.

How many achingly lonely nights had she lain here in this very bed since he left her? Made futile wish after wish that they could lie here together, just like this, again? Far, far too many. And now, here he was. All her dreams come true, on the surface at least.

They said you couldn’t turn back time, but isn’t that effectively what his accident had done?

She sighed and relaxed a little. The moment she did so her mind began to work overtime. If his memory came back, would he forgive her this deception? Could he? She’d basically kidnapped him from the life he’d been leading before the accident. Brought him here to resume a life he’d chosen to leave behind.

She’d never been a deceitful person, and now it felt as if a giant weight hovered above her, held back by nothing more than a slowly fraying thread. One wrong step and she would be crushed; she knew it. Doing this, bringing him home, acting as if nothing bad had ever happened to them? It was all a lie. She felt it was worth telling—would he feel the same way? Only time would tell.

Olivia drew in a deep breath through her nose, her senses responding to the familiar scent of the man she’d already lost once in her life. She wasn’t prepared to lose him again. She had to fight with all her might this time. Somehow she had to make this work.

She shifted a little and felt Xander’s arm close more tightly around her, as if now he had her in his arms he wouldn’t let her go, either. It gave her hope. Tentative, fragile hope, but hope nonetheless. If, in his subconscious mind, he could hold her like this, then maybe, just maybe, he could love her again, too.

* * *

Olivia woke to an empty bed in the morning and the sight of Xander standing naked in front of their wardrobe with the doors spread wide-open.

“Xander?” she asked sleepily. “You okay?”

“Where are my clothes?” he asked, still searching through the rails and the built-in drawers.

“I put them in the spare room when I thought you’d be convalescing there.”

He made a sound of disgust. “Convalescing is for invalids. I’m not an invalid.”

Olivia sat up and dropped her legs over the edge of the bed. “I know you’re not,” she said patiently. “But you aren’t at full strength, either. What is it that you want? I’ll see if I can find it for you.”

At least she hoped she’d be able to find it for him. She hadn’t brought everything of his from the apartment. What if he had something he particularly wanted to wear and she’d left it behind? Now he was home it would be a lot harder to go back to his apartment and get more of his things. She castigated herself for not thinking about that sooner.

“I want my old uni sweatshirt and a pair of Levi’s,” Xander said, turning around.

Olivia’s eyes raked his body. He’d lost definition, but he was still an incredibly fine figure of a man. There was a scar on his abdomen, pink and thin, where his spleen had been removed after the crash. The sight of it made something tug hard deep inside her. He could so easily have died in that accident and she wouldn’t have this chance with him. It was frightening. She already knew how fragile life could be. How quickly it could be stolen from you.

Her gaze lingered on his chest where she’d pillowed her head for most the night. Beneath her stare she saw his nipples tighten and felt a corresponding response in her own. She sighed softly. It had been so very long since they’d been intimate and yet her body still responded to him as if they’d never been apart. And his, too, by the looks of things.

“Why don’t you grab your shower and I’ll go get your clothes,” she suggested, pushing herself up to stand and heading for the spare room.

The sheer need that pulled at her right now was more than she could take. She had to put some distance between them before she did something crazy—like drag him back to bed and slake two years of hunger. As if he read her mind, he spoke.

“Why don’t you grab it with me?” Xander said with a smile that make her muscles tighten.

“I’m not sure you’ve been cleared for that just yet,” she said as lightly as she could.

Before he could respond, she headed into the hallway and hesitated, waiting until she heard the en suite door close and the shower start. Then she went to the narrow spiral wooden staircase that led to the attic. Her foot faltered on the first step, and she had to mentally gird herself to keep putting one foot on each step after another.

Somewhere along the line, the attic had become the repository for the things she didn’t want to face. But right now she had no choice. She closed her eyes before pushing open the narrow door that led into the storage area lit only by two small diamond-shaped multipaned windows set in at each end. Another deep breath and she stepped inside.

Keeping her line of sight directly where she had stored the large plastic box of clothing that Xander had left behind, she traversed the bare wooden floor and quickly unsnapped the lid, digging through the items until she found the jeans and sweatshirt he’d been talking about.

She dragged the fabric to her nose and inhaled deeply, worried there might be a mustiness about them that would give away where they’d been stored, but it seemed the lavender she’d layered in with his clothing had done its job. There was just a faint drift of the scent of the dried flowers clinging to the clothing. With a satisfied nod, Olivia jammed the lid back on the storage box and fled down the stairs. She’d have to come back later and get the rest of Xander’s clothes. She certainly couldn’t just take a box down to their bedroom right now because she didn’t want to invent explanations for why his things were stored away, either.

In her bedroom—their bedroom, she corrected herself—Olivia laid the jeans and sweatshirt on the bed and was getting her own clothing together when Xander came out of the en suite wrapped in a towel, a bloom of steam following him.

“I see we got the hot water problems fixed,” he said, coming toward her.

“Yeah, we ended up installing a small hot water heater just for our bathroom.” Olivia nodded. “Did you leave any for me?”

“I invited you to share,” Xander said with a wink.

She huffed a small laugh, but even so her heart twinged just a little. He sounded so like his old self. The self he’d been before they realized they were expecting a baby and would be dropping to one income for a while. While they’d never been exactly poor, and her income as a high school art teacher had mostly been used to provide the extras they needed for the renovations, it had still been a daunting prospect. Of course, since then, Xander’s star had risen to dizzying heights with the investment banking firm he now was a partner in. And with that meteoric rise, his income had hit stratospheric levels, too.

“Hey,” Xander said as he walked over to the bed and picked up his clothes. “You expecting me to go commando?”

“Oh, heavens, I didn’t think. Hang on a sec.”

Olivia shot into the guest bedroom and grabbed a pair of the designer boxer briefs she’d brought back from his apartment. She tossed them at him as she came back in the door.

“There you are. I’ll grab my shower quickly. Then I’ll get some breakfast together for us, okay?”

* * *

Xander caught the briefs she’d thrown at him and nodded. “Yeah, sounds good.”

The bathroom door closed behind her, and he sat down on the edge of the bed, suddenly feeling weak again. Damn, but this was getting old, he thought in exasperation as he pulled on his boxers and stood up to slide on his jeans. They dropped an indecent distance on his hips.

He stepped over to the chest of drawers and opened the one where he kept his belts. He was surprised to find the drawer filled with Olivia’s lingerie instead. Maybe he’d misjudged, he thought, opening another drawer and then another—discovering that the entire bureau was filled with her things. That wasn’t right, was it? It was as if he didn’t share a room with her anymore. She said she’d moved his clothes to the guest room, but it seemed odd that she’d have moved everything. And shouldn’t there be empty spaces left behind where his things had been?

Xander spied the pair of trousers he’d worn yesterday, lying on the floor. He picked them up and tugged the belt free from its loops. As he fed the belt through his Levi’s he wondered what else he’d forgotten. What else was so completely out of sync in this world he’d woken up to? Even Olivia was different from how he remembered her. There was a wariness there he’d never known her to have before. As if she now guarded her words, not to mention herself, very carefully.

Olivia came through from the bathroom, and his nostrils flared as he picked up the gentle waft of scent that came through with her. A tingling began deep in his gut. She always had that effect on him. Had right from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her. So how was it that he could remember that day as if it was yesterday, yet his brain had switched off an entire chunk of their life together?

They went downstairs—Olivia tucked under his shoulder with her arm around his back, he with one hand on the rail and taking one step at a time. His balance and coordination were still not quite there, and he fought to suppress his irritation at being so ridiculously helpless and having to depend on his wife to do such a simple thing. He normally flew down these stairs, didn’t he?

“What would you like for breakfast?” Olivia asked when they reached the kitchen.

“Anything but hospital food,” he replied with a smile. “How about your homemade muesli?”

She looked startled at his request. “I haven’t made that in years, but I have store-bought.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I’ll just have some toast. I can get that myself.”

Olivia gently pushed him onto a stool by the counter. “Oh no you won’t. Your first morning home, I’m making you a nice breakfast. How about scrambled eggs and smoked salmon?”

His mouth watered. “That sounds much better. Thanks.”

He watched her as she moved around the kitchen, envying how she knew where everything was. None of it was familiar to him. The kitchen was different to the poorly fitted cupboards and temperamental old stove that had been here when they’d bought the property in a deceased estate auction. The place had been like a time capsule. The same family had owned it since it had been built. The last of the family line, an elderly spinster, had lived only on the ground floor in her later years, and nothing had been done to modernize the property since the early 1960s.

The aroma of coffee began to fill the room. Feeling uncharacteristically useless, Xander rose to get a couple of mugs from the glass-fronted cupboard. At least he could see where they were kept, he thought grimly. Automatically he put a heaping spoon of sugar in each mug.

“Oh, no sugar for me,” Olivia said, whipping one of the mugs away and pouring the sugar back in the bowl before putting the mug back down again.

“Since when?”

“A couple of years ago, at least.”

Just how many of the nuances of their day-to-day life did he need to relearn, he thought as he picked up the mugs and moved toward the coffee machine. She must have seen the look that crossed his face at the news.

“It’s okay, Xander. Whether I take sugar or not isn’t the end of the world.”

“It might not be, but what about important stuff? The things we’ve done together, the plans we’ve made in the past few years? What if I never remember? Hell, I don’t even remember the accident that caused me to lose my memory, let alone what car I was driving.”

His voice had risen to a shout, and Olivia’s face, always a window to her emotions, crumpled into a worried frown—her eyes reflecting her distress.

“Xander, none of those things are important. What’s important is that you’re alive and that you’re here. With me.”

She closed the distance between them and slid her arms around his waist, laying her head on his shoulder and squeezing him tight as if she would never let him go. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, trying hard to put a lid on the anger that had boiled up within him at something so simple, so stupid, as misremembering whether or not his wife took sugar in her coffee.

“I’m sorry,” he said, pressing a kiss on the top of her head. “I just feel so bloody lost right now.”

“But you’re not lost,” Olivia affirmed with another squeeze of her arms. “You’re here with me. Right where you belong.”

The words made sense, but Xander struggled with accepting them. Right now he didn’t feel as if he belonged here at all. And the idea was beginning to scare him.