“Someone has to,” he mutters. “Listen, you can pissed all you want at me, at my decisions, but Ophelia—"
“That is not her name.” There is no way my wife is named for the batshit crazy heroine of Hamlet. Yeah, yeah, I’m fully aware she represents innocence and honesty in a house of sin and lies. Dr. Drees and I read a lot of Shakespeare.
Okay, so at first he read them to me because all I could do was lie there and blink once for yes and twice for no after I came out of the coma.
I do not miss those days of helplessness.
Hate even thinking about them.
Instead I concentrate on the path Duke takes. I’ll need to learn my way around and not just from a GPS app either. Oh shit. I’ll need to get my license renewed.
“Am I considered dead?”
Duke doesn’t miss a beat. “Inside where your heart should be or what the feds have to say?”
Asshole. It has to be in the genes. “The Feds.”
“We’ve had it taken care of for you. You’re very much alive and they’re very happy to continue to collect taxes and social security from your paycheck.”
“I’m sure they are,” I reply wryly. “Listen, take me to Ophelia and I’ll play nice.”
“I’m not so sure you will.” Duke navigates a street so narrow that if another car came along from the opposite direction, one of us would have to go off the side of the road. “Don’t make me spend the night to make certain of it. I do not want to give up my bed to sleep on your floor.”
“I thought we Kings were loaded.” We flew back in a private jet that Duke tersely admitted wasn’t a rental.
“You’ll have to speak with your wife about y’all’s finances.”
“Don’t tell me she went on a shopping spree while I was gone.”
Duke’s arm shoots out, slapping me so hard in the back of the head that I see stars.
“Son of a bitch, Duke. You could make me relapse.” I don’t know if that’s true or not, but for fuck’s sake, he didn’t have to do that.
“Stop being an asshole and you don’t have to worry about relapse.” He mutters something else under his breath. “There’s a cell phone in your bag. It’s a gift from True and Me.”
“True?” What the fuck is with these people’s names?
“My wife.” He actually looks happy when he says this, and I swear a small part of me is envious. “I have a daughter River—you’ve known her since she was born, and a son, Forest. He’s three and a half, so you wouldn’t know him.”
“I don’t remember her or your wife,” I say quietly. “It sucks to be part of a life you have no recollection of it.”
“Now that sort of honesty I can respect.” The paved road turns into a gravel filled one, and he pulls up to a small house surrounded by live oaks and pine trees. The bungalow is painted white and trimmed in dark grey with a wide front porch. There’s a white truck—I guess that is mine, and a small SUV. “Listen, Ophelia’s been through a lot, even before she married you, but that’s her story to tell. She refused to believe you were dead for longer than any of us, including Momma, and that’s saying something. She’s always held out hope that you’d somehow come back to her. Could you keep that in mind after I leave?”
I unbuckle my seatbelt and get out of the truck. “Yeah, sure. Why not?”
The screen door of the house flies open, slamming against the house. Out shoots a woman with long black hair, laughing wildly. Her laughter makes my gut clench with longing. Suddenly, the door bangs open again and a man runs out. He’s calling after her.
“Son of a bitch,” Duke mutters loud enough for me to hear.
She must not see us, because she’s all but running to me. Her hair floats back, revealing everything to me. In an instant I am captivated by the beauty of her face. The curve of her cheek, the plumpness of her lips.
She’s the mermaid from my dreams.
The woman’s eyes connect with mine. Abruptly her laughter stops and she stops moving, freezing like a statue in front of the truck.
“Laird,” she breathes my name like an answered prayer. “You’re home.”
“That I am. You must be my pining over me while I’m lost at sea and never gave up on me returning wife, Ophelia.” I cut my gaze to the man standing behind her. “Are you her grief counselor?”
“Laird,” Duke warns.
“What? I’m only being honest. You said she’s been waiting on me all these years, basically watching the ocean for me, like a ship captain’s wife.” I cock a brow. “She looks pretty fucking happy with my replacement. Fidelity must not be in her DNA.”
Ophelia visibly recoils from me, as if my words have physically marked her. Regret stabs at me, but I shake the feeling off. I’ve done nothing wrong.
“He’s not your replacement.” She lifts her chin. “In fact, I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Hey man, I’m sorry. Lia and I were only joking around. I’m Caine Faicloth, Campbell’s brother.” He grimaces. “She’s Knight’s wife. They got together while you were gone.”
Lia? Duke never once referred to her by that name. “Like sister, like brother, I guess.”
Caine starts to speak, then shakes his head. “I’ll head out. Campbell was expecting us—I mean me for dinner.”
Still ignoring my wife, I slam the truck door shut. “Let me walk to your ride.”
“Laird, please,” Ophelia says, but I brush past her. I don’t need her excuses.
“I shouldn’t have to say this, but I will anyway, just to be clear, stay the fuck away from my wife.” I shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans so I don’t give into the urge to punch the guy. Stay calm. Stay fucking calm.
Caine smiles. “Kinda hard to do, considering we’re family and all.”
“You’re not my fucking family.” I wait for him to climb inside the truck that I assumed was mine before I speak again. “If you step foot on my property again, I’ll have you arrested, or worse.”
“If you hurt Ophelia, I’m not going involve the law at all. I’ll take care of things on my own.” He shuts the door, rolling the window down at the same time as he starts it up. “For what it’s worth, the only person you should be jealous over is a dead man.”
“What dead man?”
“The one she married. Good luck living up to his legacy.” He gives me a cocky ass smile and drives off.
I eye my wife. She’s speaking with Duke in earnest. He stands close to her, but it strikes me as something a protector would do, a father even. The need to apologize rides me hard, but Ophelia runs inside the house before I can say a word.
Maybe it’s for the best. I should probably head out back to the pier and cool my head. Wait. “Is there a pier in the back?” I ask.
Duke’s eyes widen. I know he was ready to give me hell, but now... “Are you remembering this place?”
“I don’t know. It was a thought. Like, that’s the place I go to think about shit. I don’t know, man.” I exhale. “Tell Ophelia I’ll be back later.”
“Or you could go inside and tell her yourself.”
I shake my head. “Not fit for company right now.”
“You know she would never cheat on you. In fact, funny enough, the only person in y’all’s relationship that was ever accused of cheating—and not by her, was you. Even funnier was how she believed you were true to her, without question, I might add.” With that, he gets in his truck and follow Caine’s truck.
Chapter Nine
Ophelia
FOR YEARS, I’D ENVISIONED my reunion with Laird. The look in his ocean eyes. The way his arms would hold me again. He would say the sweetest things and I’d assure him of my love, of my devotion to him.
He’d sweep me off my feet and we’d make love, then I’d share with him my deepest secrets. Finally reveal the burdens of my heart. I’d be whole again. My soul no longer fractured by his disappearance.
Everything would be right again in our world.
Never did I imagine that the man wh
o stood by Duke’s truck, a bit older and more handsome than I remember would accuse me of this sort of betrayal. Worse, he said it had to be in my DNA... just like my dad. Only, he wouldn’t remember that.
He doesn’t remember me at all.
I blow out a breath. In the past, if Laird had ever dared to speak to me like he did, I would have melted into a puddle of nothingness. His words would have mortally wounded me.
Yes, his accusations hurt now. They hurt so badly that my heart feels raw and abused, but I’m not that girl anymore. I’m strong. I’ve endured more than he knows.
Tears well. My stupid heart was so happy to see him that my brain couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. All I could think was Laird is home. Finally. All my prayers hadn’t gone unheard. I wanted to run to him, but my legs were useless.
She looks pretty fucking happy with my replacement. Fidelity must not be in her DNA
I will not allow this to break me. I will not allow what should be one of the happiest moments of my life to be ruined by a man who is no longer the one I married—this I know in my bones to be true—and doesn’t know me at all.
In my wildest dreams, I never imagined that a stranger with hateful eyes would return instead of my loving husband.
Determined to go about my usual routine, one that I was in the midst of before Caine showed up to cajole me into a family dinner at my brother-in-law’s house, I sit at my workman’s bench, piecing together the intricate loops of a custom order bracelet from a client in Charleston. What started out as a way to feel closer to my dad has turned into a full-blown business. I set up a virtual store on Etsy, just to see how people would respond, and it’s been insane how many orders I’ve gotten over the past two years.
Actually, it helped me retain my sanity.
He’s here, my heart whispers, reminding me of the man I’ve been longing for.. Go to him. Make things right.
In the past, I would have gone to him, but our fights were silly, inconsequential, and... rare. We were too busy making a world for ourselves to let ourselves be divided.
The front door opens, and I hear Laird’s heavy footsteps.
The bracelet falls to pieces, little bits of metal and semi-precious stones hitting the bench and the floor. My hands tremble as I attempt to clean up my mess. I keep my gaze on the floor, searching for the parts that I need.
Laird’s boots appear in front of me. They’re new, not the old ones I saved and saved to buy him. The ones he wore when we went out on dates because I loved them so much.
“I suppose I owe you the chance to explain yourself.”
Tipping up my chin, I blink at him. He’s so tall, imposing, and still a stranger despite his all too familiar features. “You owe me an apology.” I straighten to my full height and dump my finds on the workbench. It’s then I realize that he’s gotten even taller. He’s filled out more, too. There are small, white lines at the corners of his eyes, lines that weren’t there four years ago.
“I’m sorry I didn’t give you the chance to explain yourself before now,” he says flatly.
Crossing my arms, I firm my jaw. I did nothing wrong and I have no reason to explain myself. If he couldn’t listen to me the first time, then that’s not my problem. “Try again and stop right after you say sorry.”
A glimmer of respect enters his blue-green gaze. “I’m sorry.”
He looks so much like the old Laird in that moment that I hug myself tighter, so I don’t touch him. “Thank you.”
“I’m waiting on the explanation as to why my so-called faithful wife was with another man.”
I give him a look. “You’re acting like you caught me having sex with Caine.”
“If I’d shown up earlier, would I have caught the two of you going at it?”
Before I can stop myself, my hand whips out to slap him, but he catches me by the wrist before it connects. I stare at his grip, horrified that I would resort to something that my mother had done to me whenever I was sassy to her.
“I know I deserve it,” he says, his voice soft as I continue to stare at him. His grip loosens slightly, fingers sliding along my arm and sending shivers down my spine. I gasp at the contact, at the touch that I have only associated with love and desire and want. “Was our relationship this volatile?”
Unable to speak, I simply shake my head. I want to yank my arm out of his grip, but even more I don’t want him to stop touching me. It’s been so long. So lonely.
His gaze never leaves my face. I wonder if he’s trying to remember me, remember us and our relationship. I find my voice. “We rarely argued.”
A small smile touches his lips. “I find that hard to believe.”
“That’s because you have no memory of us. If you did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation in the first place.”
“I’d simply believe you.” He says this like a statement of fact, not a question.
I nod. “Yes.”
“How nice for the old Laird.” He lets me go and I miss the heat of his skin against mine. “Unfortunately for us both, I’m not him.”
“Too bad.” The words escape my lips before I can lock them up. To argue with him will do no good at all.
“For you or for me?” He takes a step closer to me. My pulse flutters, like hummingbird wings as they hover near the most beautiful flower filled with the most delicious nectar. That is what my attraction to Laird feels like.
I crave him.
“Both of us.”
He touches my hair, grasping a thick lock of it between his forefinger and thumb. “Tell me more about the old Laird.”
“You were kind, protective, everyone loved to be around you, and um...” It’s hard to concentrate with him so close to me. Worse, he’s twirling my hair around his finger and I love the feel of it. “I could always count on you.”
“Sounds like the old Laird was a stand-up type of guy,” he says, his voice deep. His hand cups the back of my neck and my heart stutters. I press my palms against his chest to keep him from coming closer. “Do you wish he were here instead of me?”
My lips tremble. I don’t want to tell him what I feel right now.
“Lia.”
“You never called me Lia. Only my mom, and Caine only does it to get on my nerves.”
His thumb begins to caress the nape of my neck. “Do you wish Caine were here instead of me?”
“No.” It’s not a lie in the least. I know what Caine wanted from me, had I allowed it, but I never crossed that line, never encouraged him. He respected that. “I don’t feel anything for him beyond friendship.”
Laird tilts his head to one side, and I swear I’m being enchanted right now. I swear that a sort of a dreamy haze has taken over my vision. I don’t quite feel like myself.
“You don’t need friendship to want him.”
“Have you been with anyone?” I ask, hating that I feel the need to question him, but what’s good for the goose...
“No, love. There’s only been you, even when I didn’t know it.”
My eyes widen, both at the endearment and the admission. “Really?”
He smirks. “Can’t exactly find someone to satisfy my needs in a hospital setting.”
So, it’s not because he felt some cosmic connection to me. He was simply inconvenienced.
How romantic.
“And you, sweet wife... how faithful have you been to me?” His free arm comes around my back, pressing me to him. My hands are a useless wall, but I keep them there, curling my fingers into the material of his shirt.
“I’ve only ever been with you.” My cheeks heat at his sharp look. “We’ve only ever been with each other.”
The hand on my back dips lower. “Did I keep you fully satisfied?”
“I don’t think—”
“As your husband, shouldn’t I be apprised of your expectations so that I continue to fulfill them?”
My face flames hotter.
I am not embarrassed and have never been embarrassed about my sexual attractio
n to Laird. I know, or rather knew, his body as well as he did mine and reveled in it. But this Laird.... “You got the job done,” I say, hoping to damage his ego a little so he lets me go and I can think straight again.
“Sounds god-awful.” He lowers his head, his lips nearly on mine. “You should have had higher expectations.”
Something inside of me snaps, like a rubber band against my skin. “Any higher and you wouldn’t have a chance of meeting them.”
“Challenge accepted.” He barely presses his lips against mine and my world tilts, but before it can fall completely out of orbit, I try to push him away and finally he gives. “I won’t force you, love.”
We stand there, in the middle of the guest room turned workspace, inches apart while our hearts and souls are still miles away.
“We were trying for a baby before you were lost at sea,” I blurt. I want to tell him about Connor, but something’s holding me back and not just because he’s only been here for an hour.
The triumphant smile that had appeared on his face again slides away. “Excuse me?”
“A baby.” I clasp my hands together, twisting them around and around. “We wanted kids.”
“That young?”
I shrug. “We’d already been married for a while.”
“I didn’t have a life before you?”
“Your life and mine were always... together. We’ve been together since we were children, remember?”
“No, I don’t remember,” he says flatly, and I wince a little.
“I didn’t mean it like that. I only... you don’t sound happy when I tell you things about us.”
“That’s because I’m not. I spent the last four years of my life living in a hospital, doing the same thing day after day, and come to find out that’s par for the course. I haven’t lived a life, not even in my past.” He shakes his head, his jaw working. “I’m not blaming you for that. Obviously, I could have made different choices.”
“Obviously,” I cross my arms over my chest. “Do you have any other questions about the old Laird? I have to work.” I hate this. What should be joyful and a balm to my soul is jagged edges and sorrow.
Picture Perfect Love Page 5
