It made sense, though. Her mother had encouraged her to model from the start. She probably saw the potential moneymaker her daughter could be and pursued it.
Disgusting. His opinion of his in-laws lowered as each day passed.
“I feel like my mind is trying to tell me what happened with the accident,” she went on to say, interrupting his thoughts. “But so many things are still murky. I feel like it’s almost there, you know? Like I see the signs, hints here and there. Other things are just so…terrible, that I hope they’re not true.”
His skin prickled with unease. What was she referring to? She hadn’t told him everything. Definitely not all the details from her constant nightmares. Did he play a bigger part in her dream than what she was letting on?
“You’re going to be okay. You’ll make the right decision with your mom, and everything will work out.” He kissed her forehead. “Trust me.”
“I’m going to give her the money,” she said, her voice small, her forehead pressed against his chin.
Vince moved away from her, shock and rage coursing through his blood. “What? Are you serious? Why would you give it to her? Your father walked out of the clinic. He doesn’t want the treatment. Why do you have to constantly foot that bill if it’s never going to work?”
“He’s my father, Vince. I know you were close to yours. I’m sorry I never got a chance to meet him, but I bet you’d do anything to help him, right?” She implored him with her gaze, her earnest expression. He knew she believed she was doing the right thing, but…
“At the expense of your mental health and bank account, though, Amber? You’re tossing money in the trash every time you try to help that man. Your mom shouldn’t put this on you. It’s not fair,” he said.
“Sometimes life isn’t fair. I have to be there for them. They have no one else, nothing else. They supported me when I was young, so if I can help them, I will,” she explained.
“It was their job to support you since they’re your parents. And they put you to work as soon as possible. You’ve been a model since your early teens,” he said. “Don’t you see that all they do is take and take from you? It’s wrong, Amber. I hate how they take advantage of you.”
“They’re my family. Don’t you understand? I can’t just abandon them. They have nothing without me.”
Vince remained quiet. He did understand where Amber was coming from. His family was extremely important to him. Whatever it took, he would help them. But let them take constant advantage?
That was a different story.
“I don’t want to fight about this.” He kissed her forehead again, then her cheek, until he finally reached her lips. “I’m sorry, love. You do what you feel is right. If you’d rather I pay for it, I can.”
“No, Vince, I couldn’t do that.” She shook her head, her soft hair brushing against his face.
“Let me,” he whispered. “What’s yours is mine and what’s mine is yours. Let me ease your burden.”
“It’s not a burden. My family is never a burden.” She faltered over the words and he knew she wasn’t being one hundred percent honest with herself, but he let it lie. If she needed to believe that her parents weren’t a constant emotional and financial drain on her, then so be it. He didn’t want to argue with her. They were on each other’s side, not pitted against each other.
And he needed to remember that.
Chapter Eighteen
“I want to try to use a different approach,” Dr. Harris said, her hopeful expression filling Amber with excitement.
“What do you have in mind?” Amber settled in her usual overstuffed chair, resting her purse on the floor by her feet. They’d discussed trying to get Amber to remember the accident before, and at last week’s appointment, her psychologist had mentioned she wanted to try something next week.
Looked like it was about to happen.
“I want you to try to relax and open your mind.”
Amber burst out laughing. “Sounds very New Age-y.” She had grown comfortable in her meetings with Dr. Harris. They almost felt like two friends getting together to talk for an hour once a week.
“It sort of is,” Dr. Harris confirmed with a little smile. “Now, why don’t we have you lie down on the couch?”
“You’re turning this into the clichéd therapist visit, aren’t you?” Amber stood and went to the couch where she could stretch out and stare up at the ceiling.
“If you’re going to fight it, then this approach will never help you,” Dr. Harris said primly, making Amber laugh some more.
“I’m sorry. You’re right.” She was feeling good, feeling confident. Maybe it didn’t matter if she remembered or not what happened that fateful night. Yes, she still wanted to know and she appreciated the help, but then again…what was the old saying? Ignorance is bliss?
Indeed.
So she allowed Dr. Harris to get her into position on the couch. Watched with quiet amusement as she walked about the office and closed the blinds, lit a few candles and clicked on her iPhone so that it played classical music on low. The mood was set. The moment was now.
But would it help?
“This will almost be like hypnotizing you, but not quite,” Dr. Harris said as she settled into her usual chair, her voice low and soothing. “I’m going to ask you a couple of questions and hopefully lull your mind into opening completely, so it won’t be such a struggle when you fight to remember what happened.”
“Sounds good,” Amber murmured. The music played gently in the background, she could already smell the fragrant scent of the candles and suddenly, she was sleepy. As if she wanted to take a long, delicious nap…
“Close your eyes,” Dr. Harris said, and Amber did so. “Think of your mind as if it was a tightly furled rose, so close to bud but not quite. Soon your brain will open up as if it’s blooming. And once it’s bloomed, you’re open to anything. Everything. All the thoughts. All the memories…”
She went on like this, speaking in a soft monotone, her voice lulling Amber just as she predicted. Amber closed her eyes, losing herself in the words, in the memories. Her psychologist knew enough about the accident, the dreams Amber had, to put together a tentative timeline of the day.
Debbie had given her lots of input too, all of it negative. Amber had told Dr. Harris everything. And now she was relaying it all back to her, piece by piece, bit by bit.
“You argued with Vince. What about, you’re not sure, but he came to see you at the studio where you were doing a photo shoot. He showed up unexpectedly and you weren’t happy to see him.” Dr. Harris paused. “Why, Amber? Why were you so upset with your husband?”
Her mind opened. Slowly but surely. “We hadn’t spent much time together lately,” she murmured. “He was angry. He demanded to see me, but I was busy. It didn’t matter to him that he was interrupting my work. He never saw my career as important as his, and that hurt me.”
“Mmm-hmmm. Go on,” Dr. Harris prompted.
Amber said nothing for a few moments, quietly forcing her brain to expand even more. “I was embarrassed when he showed up at the studio. I knew we would get into an argument and I didn’t want everyone to watch it unfold. That’s why I left.”
“You left?”
“Yes.” Amber nodded, keeping her eyes closed. She felt…strange. As if she was lifting up, up from her body and observing. As if she were watching the entire interaction between her and Vince unfold, all over again at the studio. Like she stepped back into the past. “The sidewalk was so crowded I hoped it would just swallow me up. I wanted to run away from him. It was too much pressure. Vince demanded all of my time and my mom demanded all of my money. She’d called to tell me about Dad’s treatment center and how she was afraid it wasn’t working.” Tears formed, clogging her throat, threatening to spill from her eyes. “It never worked. I couldn’t help him and I felt lost. With my dad, over my marriage. Nothing was working. The only thing that seemed to work was my career, and Vince was trying to ruin that for me to
o.”
“How?” Dr. Harris asked.
“By getting me to quit. He wanted a family. He wanted to be with me. I was in such a panic, so overwhelmed with everything coming at me at once that I said I wanted…” Her voice drifted and her mind turned back to that day.
“You force me to act this way with your behavior. You don’t act like a true wife.”
Those words had hurt, more than she would’ve ever admitted. He didn’t believe she was a true wife. And she couldn’t help but agree with him.
“Because I’m not a true wife! Not really. We married too quickly. It was all hot passion and steamy nights and long, sweet talks, but it wasn’t real. More like a fantasy.” She was crying. She could feel the wetness of her tears on her cheeks. “This isn’t working. I want a divorce, Vince.”
“I asked for a divorce. He’d been so angry, so confused and shocked and horrified. It…broke my heart.” The tears streamed freely down her cheeks, but she ignored them, pushing on. “It was what I thought was best, but as soon as the words came out, I immediately wished I could snatch them back. It was too late, though.”
“Why was it too late?”
“I’m the one who really ignited the fight. Once I said that I wanted a divorce.” Amber paused, a sob overtaking her and making it near impossible to speak. “Once I said I wanted a divorce,” she repeated, “there was no going back.”
“Did you really want one?” Dr. Harris asked gently.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t think so. I certainly don’t want one now.”
“Has he ever mentioned the divorce conversation to you?”
“No.” She can only imagine why he hadn’t. He’d kept that from her.
And she half couldn’t blame him…could she?
“She knows.”
Vince frowned, pulling his cellphone away from his ear to check the phone number again. He didn’t recognize it, was surprised he answered it, but considering Amber’s condition, he answered every call he received for fear it could be in regards to his wife. “Who is this?”
Mocking laughter answered him, and he knew in an instant who it was. “Debbie?”
“You’re so incredibly smart, Vince. Well, not when it comes to Amber, but yes. You’re a crafty one. Sly as can be. I’m guessing that’s why you didn’t tell her about the divorce?” Debbie asked.
Dread sank his stomach to his toes. This was the moment he’d been waiting for. He’d known this was coming and had worried over it for months. From the moment Amber was hit and he realized she had no memory of the accident or what happened before it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Liar,” she said, sounding as happy as if she won the lottery. “She called me after she got out of her appointment with her therapist, full of so many questions. Has she called you yet?”
No. He didn’t want to admit it so he didn’t. “She’ll be home soon,” he said stiffly.
“I wouldn’t count on that.”
He gripped his phone tight as he started pacing the length of his bedroom. He’d just come home from work himself. Usually Amber was here waiting for him. “What the hell did she say to you?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“I’m figuring that’s why you called in the first place. So you could tell me all about the conversation and rub it in my face.” Bitch. He refrained from saying it. He could think it all he wanted, but he wasn’t about to insult this woman. She was a risk he didn’t want to take.
“Perceptive, as usual.” She laughed again, though it was softer, not as mocking. Not that he believed she’d softened. He knew she was dying to sink the knife into his heart and twist it until he bled all over the floor. “She doesn’t understand why you weren’t honest with her, Vincenzo.”
He cringed. How he hated when she called him by his full name. No one did unless he was introducing himself for the first time or his mother was angry with him. On occasion, Amber called him Vincenzo when she was teasing him, heavy Italian accident included.
His heart ached. God, he hoped he hadn’t ruined everything by not telling her about their argument before the accident. If he did…
No way could he ever forgive himself.
“I was protecting her,” he said. Not that he needed to defend himself when it came to Debbie. In fact, he should hang up at this very moment before he gave her too much ammunition she’d use against him eventually.
“Say what you want, but she was crying, Vince. Crying. The poor, poor thing.” She made a tsking noise, sounding like a disappointed mama, and he grimaced. He hoped like hell she was exaggerating. “You’ve broken your trust bonds with your wife, my friend. I wonder if they’ll ever be repaired.”
He ended the call before she could say another word, throwing the phone onto his bed. Still pacing, he tore off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, ready to change into something more comfortable before he texted Amber to check up on her.
First, he needed to figure out what to say. Act nonchalant, as if he has no idea what’s going on? Or immediately say he was sorry and hoped that they would talk? What was the best tactic?
The front door clicked open and he realized quick he had zero time to figure out what tactic would work out best. He’d have to go on pure instinct.
“Amber?” he called, trying his best to keep his voice neutral. “I’m in the bedroom.”
The sound of her heels clicking on the bare floor sounded louder and louder as she came closer. And then she stood in the doorway, her expression sad, her eyes rimmed with red, as if she’d been crying.
“Hi,” he said, frozen as he stared at her. “Are you all right?”
She slowly shook her head. “Not really.”
“Wh-what happened?” Damn it, he didn’t mean to stutter. He didn’t want to give away that he knew.
“I remembered.” Her voice was so soft he almost didn’t hear her.
“Remembered what?”
“The argument. What I said to you. What you said to me.” She sat heavily on the edge of the bed. “Why didn’t you ever tell me, Vince?”
He took a step toward her. “I was afraid to upset you,” he said quietly, as if he were talking to a wild animal that might startle easily. “Your recovery went so smoothly and our relationship became much stronger, I just…I didn’t want to risk it.”
“Risk what? Thinking I might want a divorce again?”
“I know you love me.” He sat beside her on the edge of the bed. “There’s no way in hell you could want a divorce…right?”
“No.” She hung her head, staring at her hands, which she wrung in her lap. “But you should’ve been honest, Vince. I have a right to know what happened to me before the accident.”
He frowned. “You don’t remember that?”
“I remember you coming to the studio and demanding that we talk. I was so embarrassed. That was my place of work and you come barging in, all enraged, macho Italian husband. I was…ashamed.” She kept her head bent, as if she couldn’t meet his gaze.
Damn. He had no idea she’d felt that way. “I’m sorry.”
“Tell me more, Vince. I remember walking out of the building and you coming with me. I remember we started to argue. But after that…it’s a blank.” She lifted her head, her despondent gaze meeting his. “I need to know what happened next.”
He didn’t want to tell her. The argument had only gotten worse. How could he admit to her the tremendous guilt he still felt over her stepping in front of that car and getting hit? He distracted her. It was his fault she got hurt. She could’ve died.
“Amber…” he started but she cut him off with a shake of her head.
“Don’t hide it from me any longer, Vince. I must know. It’s important to me.” She curled her hands into fists, pounded them once on her knees. “Say it. Please.”
Chapter Nineteen
“You force me to act this way with your behavior. You don’t act like a true wife.”
“Because I’m not a t
rue wife! Not really. We married too quickly. It was all hot passion and steamy nights and long, sweet talks, but it wasn’t real. More like a fantasy. This isn’t working. I want a divorce, Vince.”
“No, you don’t.”
She laughed. “You can’t tell me what I want or don’t want. You don’t have that right.”
“As your husband, I do.”
“Stop with the macho act because I’m not doing or saying what you want me to. Our marriage doesn’t work. It doesn’t make sense. You’re in Italy most of the time and I’m…everywhere. We never see each other and when we do, we fight like we’re doing right now.
“I love you, but you want too much from me. Things I can’t give you and that’s not fair to you, Vince. You deserve a woman who can be there for you no matter what. You’re a wonderful guy. Really you are. It’s my fault that we aren’t working out.”
“No. I disagree.”
“You can disagree all you want. But I’m determined to make you see that this isn’t working. I want a divorce.”
“Have you contacted a lawyer yet?”
“No. But I will.”
“I’ll fight you every step of the way.”
“Oh, Vince. Fine. Fight me. I’m doing it, though. I’ll contact a lawyer first thing tomorrow.”
“And then you chased me until I ran in front of a moving vehicle and got hit?” she asked once he finished retelling their conversation from that fateful day.
He sighed in agitation, shaking his head. “Of course not. You stormed off because I refused to accept your demands for a divorce. I followed you, tried to get you to stop, but you were too mad. You just…wanted to get away from me.”
Amber stared at him, her expression incredulous. “So you kept chasing me? Why didn’t you leave me alone?”
“You were angry. And you’re my wife. I wanted to resolve our problems, not let you storm off in a huff and next thing I know, I’m getting served divorce papers. We never even had any real problems beyond never seeing each other. And that could’ve been fixed, Amber. You know it,” he explained.
Falling for Her Husband: The Renaldis, Book 3 Page 13
