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Falling for Her Husband: The Renaldis, Book 3

Page 8

by Karen Erickson

They were in Stasia and her husband, Gavin’s, kitchen, Stasia preparing them cups of tea before they went back out into the living room and joined their husbands.

  Amber touched the bandage, suddenly self-conscious. “Everyone?” Were they all talking about her? The entire Renaldi family?

  Stasia smiled and shook her head. “Fine, I’m exaggerating. Just Vince. He’s so worried about you. The way he went on about your injuries, I half expected you to show up for dinner in a wheelchair, semi-conscious.”

  Amber couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. She’d always enjoyed the friendship she shared with her sister-in-law. They didn’t see each other very often, but when they did, they always had a good time. Stasia made her feel comfortable. They had a lot in common, including dealing with stubborn, gorgeous men. Though Stasia rarely wanted too many details in regards to Amber and Vince’s relationship since he was her brother.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t get to visit you as much as I wanted when you were at the hospital,” Stasia said once they both sobered up. “There was so much going on with the designs and the baby. Paige was busy. Mama isn’t here. And then Vince was so protective of you, he didn’t want your recovery disrupted, he said.” She smiled, her face radiant. She’d just had a baby boy a few months ago, a gorgeous little chubby bambino they named Michael, after her real father, Michael Worth. A man she’d never met.

  “Don’t worry about it. I understand. And you’re still adapting to having another baby,” Amber said, her thoughts drifting to baby Michael, who joined toddler big sister Sofia as part of Stasia and Gavin’s growing family. She’d held him at dinner when he got fussy and he’d snuggled right up next to her, his face pressed against her chest as he stared up at her with wide, unblinking eyes. More than once she’d glanced up to catch her husband watching her, a wistful expression on his face, and her heart had seized up for one long, terrifying moment.

  Would he want a baby, especially now that she had no real plans to further her career? The entire Renaldi clan was big on family. Vince had told her from the first time they met that he wanted lots of children someday…

  She wanted the same…eventually. Not yet, though. She was young, they hadn’t been married very long and there were so many things to consider. Just thinking about babies overwhelmed her. Could she imagine having one already?

  That would be a giant no.

  “Have you considered trying to go back to modeling?” Stasia asked.

  Amber jerked her gaze to Stasia’s, surprised at the question only because no one else had ever really asked her it. “I don’t plan on it, no.”

  “Why not?” Stasia sounded incredulous. “You’ve been doing so well. Your career has really taken off, especially the last few months. You’d texted me right before you got in the accident that you were on the cover of Vogue Italia.”

  “I did?” She didn’t remember doing that. She didn’t remember being on the cover of Vogue either. “I don’t remember any of that.”

  “Really?” The teakettle started whistling and Stasia went to it, turning off the stove as she moved the kettle to an unused burner. She turned to face Amber once more, her pretty face drawn into a confused frown. “I saw the cover. You looked gorgeous. And I know Vince saw it too. I asked him about it and he said yes, that he thought you looked beautiful too.”

  He’d never told her. Why not? Maybe with the chaos of everything that had happened, the cover slipped his mind. “Vince never mentioned it.”

  “Well, he was very proud. I could hear it in his voice.” Stasia moved about the kitchen, grabbing two white cups and then pulling a box of teabags from the cupboard. “I figured you were destined for even bigger and better things after that appearance.”

  “Not with this, I’m afraid.” She touched the bandage again, feeling the itchy skin beneath. A sign that her skin was healing, a reminder that she had no idea just how bad the scar was beneath the bandage. She hadn’t been brave enough to look at it in weeks.

  She was too scared to see the damage. What if it was worse than she thought?

  “I’m going to guess the scarring isn’t that bad. Plus, couldn’t you see a plastic surgeon? I’m sure you have options.” Stasia went about preparing their tea, looking every inch the contented, well-rounded woman that she was.

  Amber couldn’t help the stab of envy she felt. Stasia was so confident, so happy, while she was a confused, scared mess. “My arm is still a problem too. The scarring is bad and I think I need one more surgery. The doctor said I’ll probably never gain full mobility in my arm again.”

  “Oh, Amber.” Stasia set the cup she was holding down and went to Amber, drawing her into a hug. “I’m so sorry. Surely there must be something you can do?”

  “I don’t know,” Amber said on a sigh as she withdrew from Stasia’s embrace. “I feel at a loss.”

  “Have you talked about it with Vince?”

  Amber shook her head. “He doesn’t seem to like talking about that stuff.”

  Stasia handed Amber her cup of steaming hot tea. “What sort of stuff?”

  Shrugging, Amber curled her hands around the mug, warming her palms. “My future. My work. I remember him not liking it that I traveled so much.”

  “You two married terribly fast. Right after the wedding, you started traveling even more extensively for work. No newly married couple can find that easy to deal with I’m sure,” Stasia said gently.

  “Of course, you’re totally right.” Amber hesitated. Should she say this to Stasia? Vince was her brother, after all. “I sometimes wonder…did Vince and I marry too quickly? Did we move too fast? Were we really happy together or did things suffer because we weren’t together much?”

  “Aren’t those questions you should ask your husband?”

  Amber had no answer. What could she say? How could she argue?

  Her sister-in-law was correct. Amber just didn’t want to admit it.

  Being with his family tonight had shifted something deep inside Vince. Yes, some of the immediate family members were missing, namely his two brothers and their families and their mother. But spending time with Stasia and her husband and babies, seeing his sister and his wife interact with each other…it had all pulled at his heart. His mind. His soul.

  When he’d glanced up to find Amber cuddling their new nephew close to her chest, her expression soft as she whispered to little Michael, he’d been overwhelmed with love. What would it be like, to have a baby with his wife? Would she be agreeable to such a life-changing suggestion? The Amber from before the accident would’ve told him hell no. That Amber had been ready to walk away from him without ever looking back, which still crushed him when he thought about it.

  So he never thought about it.

  What he was doing, what he kept from her—he knew the secret-keeping wasn’t right. But it would do both of them no good to bring it up. What was done was done. It was in the past. He needed to live in the present and look toward the future.

  Was his wife in agreement, though? Would she want a child? She’d said a few times recently that she was young. Her life was still wide open to her and she was right. He couldn’t expect her to just agree with him without protest. Surely she would have something to say about the matter of their starting a family.

  Knowing his sometimes rather opinionated and outspoken wife, she would have plenty to say.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” she said, her soft, sweet voice breaking through his thoughts.

  They’d taken a taxi home and they were stuck in late night traffic. “Just thinking,” he said, offering her a quick smile.

  She reached out and set her hand on his thigh, giving his leg a gentle squeeze. “About what?”

  “It was nice to see you and Stasia together. I’d forgotten how well the two of you got along,” he said, avoiding mentioning his true baby thoughts.

  “I love your sister.” She smiled and leaned her head on his shoulder. He caught the scent of her hair, the way her fingers skimmed across his thigh and h
is entire body tightened. “I love your entire family, though I’m not sure if they love me.”

  He stiffened beneath her touch. “Why would you say that?” he asked warily.

  Amber glanced up at him the same time he looked down at her. “I’m sure they don’t approve of my always being gone while I was working. Not hardly the way a newly married couple should behave, right?”

  Vince swore he’d heard those very words come out of his mother’s mouth. “Have you spoken to my mother recently?”

  “No.” She looked away, a nervous laugh escaping her. “I sound like her, though, don’t I? I think…she might’ve said those exact words to me once.”

  She sounded troubled, which worried him. He reached out, traced his finger along the gentle curve of her jaw. “We never really did talk about your session today.”

  “It went well,” she said, keeping her gaze averted.

  “Amber.” She turned to meet his gaze once more, her eyes wide and completely unreadable. That had been one of her special talents. How well she could hide her emotions. She blamed modeling. He blamed her screwed up relationship with her parents. Her father was a drunk and her mother was a co-dependent. Amber had been turned into one herself. “Did you like your therapist?”

  “She’s very nice.”

  “And do you feel like the session was helpful?”

  She lifted her head and removed her hand from his leg, moving away from him. “If you’re trying to discourage me from going again, I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you. I’m definitely seeing her next week.”

  “I would never do that,” he said, offended. “I want you to get the help you need.”

  “Yes, but you don’t think I need any help, right?” She leaned back so far she was wedged into the farthest corner of the taxi. As far away from him as she could get.

  “I never said any such thing.” He frowned, anger and frustration and roiling mix in his gut. “What’s wrong with you, Amber? Why are you being so…hostile?”

  She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I know you didn’t want me to go to therapy.”

  “Only because I was afraid it would upset you.”

  “You’re always afraid everything is going to upset me.” She scowled. “I’m sick of it.”

  “Sick of what? My concern for you? My love for you?” He was incredulous. Why would this make her angry? One minute he was having thoughts of a future filled with sweet babies given to him by his wife and the next they were in a fight.

  Just like old times.

  “When you say it like that…” She stared at him, sadness and regret filling her eyes, making them dark. “You make me feel bad.”

  A sigh escaped him. “I don’t want to make you feel bad,” he murmured. “You need to know I’m always here for you, Amber. I’m not the enemy. I will support you in whatever you want to do.”

  He believed that fully. Yes, he was worried she would find out he kept secrets from her and it could all blow up in his face, but this was the chance he needed to take in order to move forward. He needed her trust. He needed her faith.

  He needed her.

  She went to him, her arms going around his neck, her cheek pressed against his. “I’m sorry,” she whispered close to his ear, her lips touching his skin, making him shiver. “I don’t want to fight with you.”

  “I don’t want to fight with you either,” he said as he slipped his arms around her waist. “I love you.”

  Her body relaxed against his, her breasts pressing against his chest, and his skin tightened. “I love you too,” she said, nuzzling her cheek against his. “So much. I don’t tell you enough.”

  “You tell me every day,” he said with a chuckle. Since her accident she told him she loved him often, just as much as he told her.

  She leaned in closer, her voice the barest whisper. “Maybe I can show you just how much I love you when we get home.”

  He smoothed his hand over her hair, cupping the back of her neck so he could kiss her. “That sounds perfect.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Oh, darling, you’re beautiful!” Debbie Kaye swept Amber into her arms, squeezing her close before she grabbed her by the shoulders and gently forced her away, keeping her at arms’ length. “Look at you. You’ve gained weight.”

  Amber’s cheeks heated and she tilted her head, rolling her eyes. “My husband wants to fatten me up, I think.”

  “Fat and happy, isn’t that a saying?” Debbie’s assessing gaze swept up and down, up and down as she kept hold of Amber’s shoulders. “You look amazing,” she declared.

  “You just said I was fat.”

  “No, I said you put on weight. I never said it looked bad. And you could lose it quick, right?” Debbie finally released her hold on Amber’s shoulders. “Hmm, look at those real curves. Hips. Boobs. And that scar…”

  Amber’s heart lurched almost painfully. God, she hated the scar. “It’s bad, isn’t it?” She reached up, drew her fingers across the raised skin. The bandage had been removed a week ago and she’d been pleasantly surprised to find it wasn’t as deep as she’d originally thought.

  But now, in front of her modeling agent, the most particular person in the entire universe, she was afraid it looked terrible.

  “No. Not at all.” Debbie smiled and shook her head. “I thought it would be far worse, I must admit.”

  Leave it to Debbie. She was always so blunt, so brutally honest. Her attitude was what made her one of the best agents in the business. “I have an appointment with a plastic surgeon next week.”

  “What about the arm?” Debbie waved a hand at Amber’s arm, which had recently been put in a soft brace.

  “I don’t have full mobility. I probably never will,” Amber admitted. At least it didn’t hurt anymore. The incessant throbbing pain had finally stopped for the most part, thank goodness.

  “You know how you always pose in those weird angles. I’m sure the arm will be even more of an advantage now.” Debbie clapped her hands together once. “So. When can I put you back on the books? We’ve had plenty of requests. You’re still in demand, maybe even more so since the accident. Everyone wants a piece of you.”

  A surge of adrenaline powered through Amber, making her skin feel like it was vibrating. She couldn’t believe what Debbie was saying. She figured the minute she disappeared everyone would forget about her. “Are you serious?”

  “Dead serious, my darling. You are one of the hottest commodities at the agency and look at you, full of shock. You don’t even know it. The Italian Vogue cover sent you right over the edge, you know,” Debbie explained. “Everyone wants you.”

  Amber went to one of the overstuffed chairs in Debbie’s office and collapsed in it, surprised pleasure sweeping over her. “Do you know I’ve never even seen that cover?”

  “What?” Debbie shrieked, running to her bookshelf to thumb through a stack of magazines piled there. “Oh my God, darling, you must see it. It’s divine. I know I have it here somewhere…ha! Here it is. Look, look.”

  She brought the thick copy of Italian Vogue to Amber and offered it to her. Amber took the magazine from Debbie’s outstretched hands as if in a daze, her gaze dropping to the cover. There she was, in stark black and white, black eyeliner smudged under her eyes in a messy, edgy style, her shadowy hair in complete yet artful disarray. She looked bleak, desolate, her eyes empty.

  “You’re absolutely stunning,” Debbie raved, her voice full of reverence. “Gorgeous. Look at your face. God, I want to pinch your cheeks so badly right now. I’m so glad to see you in the flesh again I can hardly stand it. You put everyone else to complete shame.”

  “Debbie,” Amber chastised, shaking her head. She couldn’t take her eyes off the image that stared back up at her. The image that was her. She was blown away by how…different she looked.

  How unhappy she looked.

  Couldn’t Debbie see it? She could. It was written all over her face, especially in her eyes. The unhappiness, the sadness, th
e absolute disgust. When had these photos been taken? What in the world had she been thinking as she posed for the camera?

  “Manuel wants to work with you again. In fact, he’s dying to work with you. He calls once a week, asking if you’re back,” Debbie said.

  Amber glanced up, frowning. “Who’s Manuel?”

  Debbie tapped the magazine cover. “The photographer who took these photos, darling. I believe he was quite enamored with you.” Debbie smiled wickedly. “And if I remember correctly, I think you were rather taken with him yourself.”

  “But…but I’m married.”

  “So? That never seemed to stop you before.”

  “Are you serious?” Amber lowered her voice, disgust and horror racing through her veins. “Have I been…unfaithful to Vince?”

  “Of course not!” Debbie laughed. “You were always such a good girl. Always wanting to do the right thing. But that didn’t stop you from flirting incessantly. Everyone can flirt, right? It’s all harmless good fun.”

  Harmless good fun until someone—namely her husband—found out she’d been flirting constantly with other men. Men she worked with, men she spent too much time with.

  Why would she do that? Flirting was a part of the business she knew, but…

  No way could she have contemplated thoughts of being disloyal to Vince?

  “When is your meeting with the plastic surgeon?” Debbie asked, interrupting Amber’s thoughts.

  “Soon.” Amber offered her a weak smile as she handed the magazine back. “I’ll let you know what they say.”

  “Please do. We could even put you back on the books now, you know. The scar doesn’t matter. Their photo manipulation skills get better as each hour passes, I swear. Or they can take your photos from an angle,” Debbie suggested, excitement dancing in her eyes.

  Amber shoved the magazine at her again and Debbie glanced down, frowning at the magazine. “You don’t want to keep it?” she asked when she lifted her head and met Amber’s gaze.

  Amber hated the cover. It represented something foreign to her. Something unknown. And that something unknown was…her.

 

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