He stopped and swallowed. Something banged against the window, a bird or a branch from the tree, making them both jump, but neither of them turned to look.
“I just wanted you to be happy,” he said softly. “But I wasn’t enough for you. The bridal shop was no longer enough, either. You got impatient with sewing one gown after another—you wanted something bigger, better. You just became so… intense, and you couldn’t understand why everyone else seemed content with their small lives. You were quite harsh with Bianca, and told her that she had no ambition, and that—”
“Stop it!” Phoebe put her face in her hands. “I can’t bear it. Don’t tell me any more.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
A vast whirlwind of emotions overwhelmed Phoebe, so strong it made her head spin.
“Hey.” Rafe moved closer to her and pulled her into his arms. “Come on, I’m sorry.”
But she stood again, dashing away tears. “Why didn’t you tell me all this?”
“Your mum asked me to wait. Don’t blame her—she was worried about the effect it would have on you. She just wants you to get better.”
So, they had all been in on the deception. “You’re my fiancé,” Phoebe said desperately. “You should have known me better than that. It’s not my mother’s place to tell you what to do. Why weren’t you honest with me? Why didn’t you tell me about our argument?”
Rafe stood too. He looked distraught, his eyes filled with pain. “You seemed so different without all those memories dragging you down. It was as if a huge weight had been lifted. I knew that if I told you, you’d say you didn’t want to leave, because you didn’t have that overwhelming guilt and grief driving you forward. And it would have been so easy for me to say ‘All right, sweetheart, let’s stay.’ How could I not? It’s what I want in my heart. But I knew that when you got your memory back, you’d hate me for it. You’d see it as a betrayal, because I know what was important to pre-accident Phoebe. I couldn’t push my own agenda, that wouldn’t have been fair.”
She gave a short, incredulous laugh. “You were being altruistic?”
“I’m not saying that. I know it was cowardly. You don’t have to tell me that.”
Phoebe didn’t know what to think. He hadn’t told her because he’d been trying to protect her. She’d accused him of having an affair with Bianca, and had said several times that she didn’t understand why they were leaving, implying it was his fault, but he hadn’t leapt to his own defense.
She was incredibly angry with both him and her mother—and, presumably, the rest of the family, because they must all have been in on it—and yet she wasn’t stupid. They all loved her, and they’d done what they thought was best for her. She’d obviously suffered last year, and they’d all been worried about her. And she had a brain injury. Her mother must have been out of her mind with fear that being told what had happened with her father would have sparked it all off again.
She turned away and walked up to the window, looking out at the wild night.
She was full of emotion, and yet, she also felt oddly distant too. It was as if they’d been to see a movie, watching the drama being played out amongst a group of characters that she had no connection with once she’d left the movie theater. Everything that had happened last year remained a mystery to her. She could understand why she’d reacted that way when her father had died, but right now she felt puzzled by the depth of her guilt. It wasn’t her fault that her father had died. Sure, it was possible that she might have been able to save him if she’d turned up at one o’clock, but equally maybe he’d died at 12:45, and she would still have been too late. Or maybe, even if she’d been there, she wouldn’t have been able to save him.
Although she didn’t practice any religion, she’d been brought up a Christian, and she had faith that there was something beyond the world that she could see and hear. She believed that everything happened for a reason, and she had a basic hope that people were generally good and honest at heart. Maybe that was naive, and she’d become so cynical over the last eight years that her father’s death had taken a much bigger toll than it might have done when she was eighteen. But the truth was that Old Phoebe had gone, and might never come back.
Rafe moved to stand behind her, although he didn’t touch her. “Are you okay?” he said softly.
“My head hurts,” she whispered.
“Do you want me to get you some painkillers?”
She nodded, and he walked off. She heard him moving about in the kitchen, and then he came back in with a glass of water and a couple of pills. She took them from him and swallowed them, washing them down with a few mouthfuls of water. Taking the glass from her, he put it on the bedside table, then came back to her.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She watched a dead palm leaf lift in the wind, flipping over and over before a gust tossed it down the bank into the river. “It’s so powerful—it makes me feel so helpless.”
“Are you talking about the weather or the situation?”
She gave him a wry glance. “Both.” She turned to face him, leaning against the window, resting her head on the glass. He did the same, his hands deep in his pockets. He was so handsome, it made her heart ache.
“I’m sorry,” he said again. “For not telling you everything.”
She just shook her head. “Do you think my memory will ever come back?”
“I don’t know.”
“What if it doesn’t?”
“What do you mean?”
She shrugged. “Should I carry on the way I was, even though I don’t associate with that girl anymore, just in case she suddenly returns? Or do I accept that she’s gone, and just be the person I am now?”
He didn’t say anything, just looked down at his feet.
“You prefer me the way I am now,” she said softly.
He lifted his gaze back to hers. “I love you no matter which Phoebe you are.”
It was sweet, but she knew he was lying. He’d told her that he didn’t want to move to Auckland. He’d said she’d become intense, and that he felt as if he was losing her. He’d liked the fact that she’d lost the hollows in her cheeks, and was putting on a little weight. He loved her, and he would have loved her no matter how she’d changed, but equally he’d missed the carefree Phoebe he’d fallen in love with.
“I don’t want to remember,” she said. Tears welled in her eyes. “I don’t want to get those memories back. I don’t want to be old Phoebe again.” The tears tumbled over her lashes, and she covered her mouth with a hand.
“Aw, hey.” He moved closer to her and wrapped his arms around her. “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”
“I’m sorry.” She sobbed into his T-shirt.
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about. You’ve had a really tough time, and you’ve coped with it the best way you could.” He kissed her hair.
“I don’t want to move to Auckland,” she whispered between sobs. “I don’t want to leave the shop.”
“It’s okay, you don’t have to make your mind up now.”
“I don’t want to run anymore.”
He inhaled shakily. “It’s all right. You don’t have to.”
“I don’t want to let old Phoebe down, but I don’t want to be her anymore.”
“Shhh. Come on, you’ll make your head worse.” Bending at the knees, he picked her up and carried her over to the bed. He climbed on the mattress and leaned against the pillows, Phoebe still on his lap, leaned back, and held her tightly.
She curled up against him, trying not to bawl her eyes out. God, she was so tired. All the emotion had worn her out.
“I’m sorry we argued on Thursday,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I made you feel as if you were in second place.”
“It doesn’t matter now.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too. Shhh.”
She bit her lip hard and closed her eyes.
In less than a minute, she’d fallen into an exhausted sleep.
*
When she awoke, it was dark. She was lying on her side on the bed, Rafe close behind her, her back to his chest. She lifted her head to see that the cyclone was at its height, the house creaking and groaning, the trees bent double in the wind. Rain lashed at the windows, and the sky was devoid of light. She could barely see anything in the room—even the digital clock was black, which meant there had been a power cut.
“Are you okay?” Rafe’s voice came out of the darkness.
“I’m thirsty,” she said.
“I’ll get you a drink.” He sat up.
“I guess there’s no power,” she said. “I’d have loved a cup of tea.”
“The camping stove’s in the cupboard. I’ll boil up some water.”
Before she could tell him not to take the trouble, he’d left the room.
She lay there for a moment, testing the back of her head with her fingers, and eventually ripping off the dressing impatiently. The wound was tender but clean, and she could feel the hairs growing back.
Rising, she padded out into the living room and through it to the kitchen. The blue light from the camping stove lit the room, and Rafe was leaning against the counter, waiting for the small saucepan of water to come to the boil.
“Hey,” he said. “You should have stayed in bed.”
“I wanted to get up.” She felt surprisingly awake. “Wow, that storm’s something.”
“Isn’t it?”
“I hope all the ducks are safe,” she said.
“I’m sure they’re tucked well away under the pier.”
“It’s scary being so out of control.”
He looked at her, maybe not sure whether she was talking about the weather again. “How’s your head?”
“It’s all right. I want to stop taking the painkillers. They make me feel fuzzy.”
“Okay.”
She looked into the pot, seeing little bubbles forming on the base of the pan. “It’s nearly there.”
He took two mugs, put a teabag in them, and as the water started to boil, poured it over. After waiting a minute, he removed the bag, added a splash of milk, and handed her a mug.
Sipping it, she walked into the living room and up to the window. Rafe joined her, and they watched the storm for a while. Eventually, he looked down at her. She could barely see him in the darkness, but his eyes glistened.
“What?” she asked.
“I can’t believe you’re still here,” he said, his voice husky. “I was convinced that once I told you everything, you’d walk out.”
“Old Phoebe might have done. New Phoebe’s a bit more practical.” She could just see his lips curve up a little. “It’s too easy to make big dramatic gestures,” she said. “To flounce around and cast blame and walk out. Look where that got me last time. We’re grownups, aren’t we? It makes more sense to work through stuff, to talk about it.”
He nodded.
“You should have told me,” she said. “Everything, at the beginning. It wasn’t right to keep it from me.”
“I know.”
“Even if it had made me feel bad, I should have been told. I’ll have words with my mother about pressuring you to keep it a secret.”
“She only wanted the best for you,” he said.
Phoebe smiled at that. Even though it had gone against his wishes, he’d done what her mother asked, and he refused to blame her for it. She lifted a hand and stroked his cheek. “You really are very sweet.”
He turned his head and kissed her palm. “I’m ashamed of that last argument. I hated myself for it, and when the police came, and I thought for a while that I wasn’t going to have the chance to apologize for it… It nearly broke me. So, I want to say now that I am sorry for it.”
“I know. It’s done, Rafe, all water under the bridge.”
He cleared his throat and rubbed his nose.
“I meant what I said,” she continued. “I don’t want to go to Auckland.”
His eyes glittered in the small amount of light. “You don’t have to make that decision now.”
“I do. Because even if I get my memories back, Old Phoebe has New Phoebe to contend with. I think we should start again. I think… I still want to get married on Tuesday.”
Rafe inhaled audibly. “You mean that?”
“I do. I’m not about to throw away a lifetime with you because of what’s happened. We’ve both made mistakes and said things we don’t mean, I’m sure. I’ll understand if you say now that you’d rather wait and see if Old Phoebe comes back, because even if I promise to try to control her, I know it’s impossible to say it’ll work, but if—”
He put down his tea, took her face in his hands, and kissed her.
Phoebe’s lips curved under his, and she closed her eyes and gave herself over to the kiss.
When he finally moved back, she lowered the mug to the table next to his and returned to his embrace. “And Rafe… on Monday, I want to go to the doctor’s and have the IUD removed. I want to start trying for a family.”
“Oh Jesus.” He put his arms around her and hugged her tightly. She bore it for a while, stroking his back, then moved away gently and looked up at him. His face was wet, and when she brushed away the tears with her thumb, he blew out a breath and looked away.
“Maybe we should start practicing now,” she murmured. “To make sure we get it right.”
His gaze came back to hers. “I don’t know what to say.” His voice was husky with emotion.
“Then just kiss me.” She lifted her lips to his.
To her relief, he returned the kiss, sighing, molding her body to his. She turned her back to the window and leaned against the glass, and took her time to kiss him, just enjoying the knowledge that they were still together, and it wouldn’t be long before this man belonged to her, and was hers for life. She felt no regret that she’d agreed to marry him, just relief that she’d finally gotten to the bottom of the problem. The world hadn’t ended; the sky hadn’t fallen. Rafe was still here with her.
He lifted his head, his nose brushing hers. “You know I love everything about you,” he told her fiercely. “Old Phoebe, New Phoebe… They’re all different sides of you, and I love them all the same.”
Her throat tightened with emotion. She nodded and caught the bottom of his T-shirt in her hands. He lifted his arms, and she pulled it over his head and dropped it to the floor. Then she undid her shorts and slid them off, and removed her own T-shirt.
“Let’s go in the bedroom,” he said, but she shook her head.
“Here.” She slipped her panties down and removed her bra.
Rafe unbuttoned his jeans. “We should take our time,” he scolded. “We don’t have to rush things.”
“We can have an hour of foreplay next time if you like.” She pulled him toward her. His erection jutted through his boxers like an iron bar, making her mouth water. “Now, I just want you in me.” She tugged the boxers down his legs.
He stepped out of them, sighed as she stroked him, and kissed her again, plunging his tongue into her mouth. Despite her urgings, he stroked her breasts for a while before moving his hand between her legs. His fingers slipped through her folds easily, and he gave a helpless groan, so she knew she was wet and swollen. But he still took time to arouse her, caressing her clit, until she began to gasp and rock against his hand.
Then he put his hands under her butt, lifted her, and pressed her back against the glass.
“You’re sure?” he murmured. When she nodded, he lowered her down slowly, impaling her on his erection until he was all the way in.
Tears came into Phoebe’s eyes, and he stopped immediately and said, “Oh jeez, did I hurt you?”
She shook her head. “Happy tears,” she whispered.
A frown flickered on his brow, but she sank her hands into his hair and kissed him, and he sighed and began to move, holding her tigh
tly as he thrust inside her.
Phoebe kissed him deeply, losing herself in the beauty of being so close to him, so intimate. Behind her, outside, the wind howled, and the trees whipped at the windows, but it only seemed to heighten her emotion, making her feel as if the whole world was taking part in their lovemaking.
She was losing control, and so was Rafe, his thrusts becoming more insistent, his breathing harsh, and she whispered, “Yes, yes,” locking her ankles behind his back to encourage him to thrust harder, deeper. So he did, and she leaned back on the glass, letting him have his way, abandoning herself to his strength, his desire, his passion, as he carried them both to the edge, and they tumbled over together.
Tears trickled down her cheeks, and she couldn’t stop them, unable to fight the emotion that had been swirling around inside her all day. Even as he swelled and pulsed inside her, Rafe kissed them away, his lips pressing gently over her face. And when he’d done, he withdrew, lifted her off the glass, and carried her through to the bedroom. Placing her on the bed, he curled up behind her and pulled the duvet over them.
“I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her face in the dark.
“You’ve got nothing to apologize for.” His voice was husky, and she felt his lips touch her hair.
“I’m happy,” she said. “Don’t think I’m not.”
“I know.” His arms tightened around her. “I’m going to be the best husband in the world. I don’t ever want to make you cry again.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Although the wind continued to whip the trees around, the storm had almost blown itself out. Phoebe lay in the dark, listening to its final sighs, knowing that Rafe was still awake because his hand was tracing patterns on her hip. Safe in his arms, she finally let sleep claim her.
Bride in Trouble Page 19
