The Wife He Couldn't Forget

by Yvonne Lindsay

  Xander lay down on the bed with a groan, and Olivia hastened to draw the drapes and cast the room into soft half light. She brushed a light kiss on his forehead and turned to leave the room. But Xander had a different idea.

  “Come lie with me, Livvy, please?”

  It was the “please” that did it for her. Carefully, she eased her body on the bed next to him and curled to face him—one hand lifting to gently tousle his hair and massage his scalp. Beneath her fingertips she felt the scar tissue that had formed as he’d healed during his coma. It both shocked and frightened her, and she started to pull her hand away.

  “Don’t stop. That feels great,” Xander protested.

  It felt ridiculously good to her to be needed by him. Most of the time since he’d been home he’d fought for independence—begrudgingly accepting her help only when he had to or when she insisted. But here, now? Well, it made her decision to bring him home all the sweeter. To be able to fill a need for him, in the home they’d created together rather than know he was alone in that barren and soulless apartment he’d been living in, gave her a stronger sense of purpose than she’d felt in a long time.

  * * *

  The first thing Olivia became aware of when she woke was Xander’s face immediately in front of hers. His eyes were open, and his face so serious, so still, that for a split second she was afraid he’d remembered. But then his eyes warmed and he gave her that special half smile of his.

  “Livvy?” he asked, lifting a hand to push a hank of hair off her face.

  “Mm-mmm?”

  “I love you.”

  Her eyes widened and her heart went into overdrive. How long had it been since she’d heard those precious words from Xander’s lips? Far too long.

  She turned her head so she could place a kiss in his palm. “I love you, too.”

  She snuggled up closer to him, loving the fact she could.

  “I mean it,” he said. “I was thinking about the accident and wondering when the last time was that I told you how much you mean to me. It frightened me to think it might have been a very long time ago, and that I might have died without ever telling you again.”

  She was lost for words.

  Xander continued. “And I wanted to thank you.”

  “Thank me? Why? I’m still your wife.” She gasped in a sharp breath. Would he pick up on the slip she’d made, referring to herself as still being his wife?

  “You’ve been so patient with me since I was released from the hospital. I appreciate it.”

  He leaned in a little closer until his lips touched hers in the sweetest of kisses. Olivia felt her body unfurl with response to his touch—her senses coming to aching life. She couldn’t help it; she kissed him back. Their lips melded to each other as if they had never been apart at all, their tongues—at first tentative, then more hungrily—meeting, touching and tasting. Rediscovering the joy of each other.

  Xander’s hands skimmed her body, lingering on the curve of her waist, touching the swell of her breasts. Her skin grew tight, her nipples aching points of need pressing against the thin fabric of her bra. He palmed them, and fire licked along her veins. And with it an awareness that doing this with him was perpetuating another lie.

  With a groan of regret, Olivia caught at his hands and gently eased them from her aching body. She wriggled away from him and swung herself into an upright position. Drawing in a deep breath, she cast a smile at him across her shoulder.

  “If that’s how you show your appreciation, remind me to do more for you,” she said, injecting a note of flippancy into her voice that she was far from feeling.

  “Come back,” he urged.

  She looked at him, took in the languorous look in his eyes, the fire behind them that burned just for her. Even in their darkest days, they’d still had this physical connection between them. A spark that wouldn’t be doused. A need that only each other could fulfill.

  “I wish I could, but I’ve got work to do,” she said, getting to her feet and straightening her clothing. “You stay in bed though. You’re still a bit too pale for my liking. How’s the head?”

  “It’s fine,” Xander replied, also getting up.

  As Olivia went to leave the room, he stepped in front of her. “Livvy, stop. You won’t break me if we make love.”

  “I know, and I...I want to—don’t get me wrong. I just think it’s too soon for you, and on top of your headache, as well—” She broke off as the phone rang.

  Grateful beyond belief for the interruption, she dived for the phone next to the bed.

  “It’s the gallery,” she whispered to Xander, covering the mouthpiece once she identified who it was. “I’ll be a while.”

  He gave her a piercing look, one that reminded her all too much of the determined man he’d been, and then turned and left the room. Olivia sagged back onto the edge of the bed, her pulse still beating erratically, her mind only half engaged with the gallery owner’s conversation. She must have said all the right things in all the right places because the twenty-minute call seemed to satisfy the gallery owner’s queries.

  After replacing the phone on the bedside table, Olivia reached out and smoothed the covers of the bed. The indentations of where they’d been lying together were easily erased. If only it was as easy to erase the demand that beat like an insistent drum through her body. Sure, she could have given in to him, but the sense of right and wrong that had made her pull away still reared up in the back of her mind.

  It would be unfair to make love with him when he didn’t know about their past—about the problems that had driven them apart two years ago. She’d been a fool to think she could live in a make-believe world where the past never happened and everything was still perfect between them. She did love him, deeply, and that was more than half the problem. If she didn’t, she would have been able to take advantage of his overture to make love, would have been able to lose herself in his skillful touch and the delirium of his possession without guilt holding her back.

  She’d been nuts to think she could just bring him home from hospital and keep him at arm’s length and not have to face a situation like this. He’d always had a high sex drive, and hers had mirrored his. It had been a long time since they’d found their special brand of perfection together.

  Not for the first time, she felt strong misgivings about what she’d undertaken. She’d wanted to give their marriage a second chance. But once he knew what she’d done, how she’d used him and taken advantage of his injuries, where would that leave her?

  Where would that leave either of them?

  Seven

  As she exited the bedroom she heard Xander back in his office. She crossed the hall and leaned against the doorjamb.

  “You’re supposed to be taking it easy,” she said.

  He swiveled around in his chair to face her. “I need to do something. Aside from the memory loss, I’ve started feeling better. I’m bored. With you working on your paintings, I was thinking about calling the office and seeing if I could go in for a few hours a week. Ease in gently, y’know?”

  A fist of ice formed around Olivia’s heart. If he did that, it wouldn’t be long before he’d learn about her deception. And what chance would she have with him after that?

  “You haven’t been cleared by the doctor yet. Why don’t you give it another week or two? See what he says when you go for your checkup?

  “Look, I know I need to be working, but there’s no reason why you can’t be familiarizing yourself with the markets and what’s been happening while I’m painting. Why don’t we relocate your office to the bedroom off the studio? That way you can work and I won’t have to worry about you. We can keep the single bed that’s in there so that if you get another headache, or simply need to rest, you can just lie down.”

  “And you can keep hovering over me lik
e a mother hen?” he asked with a raised brow.

  She pulled a face. “If you want to call it that. I prefer to think of it as caring. Besides, at least that way you won’t be bored and we can keep an eye on each other.”

  He inclined his head. “Okay, when you put it that way. You always lose track of time when you’re painting, anyway. I’ll be able to make sure you keep to your breaks.”

  “So, is it a deal?”

  He stood up and brushed her lips with his. “It’s a deal.”

  “Let’s go and work out where we’ll put everything,” she said, turning to leave the room.

  He followed close behind, and she hesitated to allow him to catch up so she could walk down the stairs with him. Yes, he was getting stronger every day, but she still worried.

  “Y’know, I’m kind of surprised you’re willing to give up your space to me,” Xander commented as they hit the ground floor and started toward the doors that led out to the cottage.

  “Why’s that?” Olivia asked, although she had an idea she knew where this was heading.

  “You’ve always protected your work space. I don’t remember you ever suggesting we share it before.”

  She shrugged. “A lot can change in a few years. Would you rather not move your office down here? We don’t have to.”

  “No, I’d prefer it. We can always use an extra bedroom upstairs for when we have those kids we’ve obviously kept putting off having.”

  Olivia stumbled as weakness flooded her body at his words. They hadn’t put off having kids. Would things have been better if they had? Would they have been spared all that suffering if she’d stuck with the five-year plan Xander had painstakingly created for them? He hadn’t thought they were ready to be parents—but she’d wanted a baby so badly. She could never regret the time they’d had with Parker, but if they’d waited...if she’d been a few years older, a few years wiser when she became a mother, would she have made better decisions? Would it have changed anything if Xander had been given more time to adjust and prepare himself to become a father?

  She’d taken the decision out of their hands when she’d gone off her birth control pills without telling him. He’d been angry at first, when she’d told him she was pregnant, but he’d eventually warmed to the idea. Although she’d always suspected that in many ways he held a bit of himself back. As if he was afraid to love Parker too much.

  She’d even accused him of loving their son less, in those immediate dark days after Parker had died.

  “Hey, you okay?” Xander said, putting a hand to her elbow. “I thought I was supposed to be the clumsy one.”

  “I’m okay,” she insisted, focusing on her every step even as her mind whirled in circles.

  “About those kids?” Xander started. “I think we should do something about that as soon as we can. Life’s too short and too precious to waste. If my car wreck has taught me nothing else, it has taught me that. I’d like us to start trying.”

  Outside the cottage Olivia hesitated. “Are you sure about that, Xander? You’ve only just begun your recovery. Do you really think having children right away is a good idea?”

  She didn’t even know if she wanted another baby, ever. Was her heart strong enough to take that risk? Loving Xander was one thing, and she’d lost him figuratively the day he’d left their home and she’d almost lost him literally in the wreck that had stolen his memories.

  “Aren’t you the one who usually accuses me of putting things off too long? Why the change of heart? Talk to me, Livvy.”

  “Xander, can’t we just wait until you’re better? You’ve never wanted to rush into this before.”

  “But what if I never get better? What if my memory doesn’t return and those years stay locked away forever?”

  There was a part of her that wanted that to happen. But Olivia knew that wouldn’t be fair to him or to her. If they were to truly make this marriage work, there couldn’t be any secrets between them. Even so, she couldn’t bring herself to raise the subject of their separation or the tragedy that had triggered it with him just yet. Not when she was still unsure how he would react.

  She’d learned as a child that it was best not to face the pain of loss—it was far better to tuck it away where it couldn’t be felt. Her father had taught her that. After her mother had died, her dad had told Olivia that looking after “the wee ones,” as he’d called her siblings, was up to her now. And then he’d thrown himself into his farm work with a single-mindedness that didn’t allow for grieving.

  Whenever Olivia had felt the overwhelming loss of her mother, she’d just buttoned it down and turned to the work she had at hand—whether it was her schoolwork or helping her siblings with theirs. And there were always chores to do around the farm and the house. Following her father’s staunch example, she’d never allowed herself time to think about her loss or the pain she felt. And that’s exactly how she’d coped after Parker’s death.

  “Livvy?” Xander prompted.

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” she said stoically. “Right now the things that matter are getting you strong again and being happy together. And if having you here, sharing my space, means I can stop you from reaching the breaking point like you did earlier today, then that’s all to the good.”

  “And vice versa,” he reiterated, lifting a finger to trace the circles she knew were under her eyes. “You work too hard yourself.”

  She cracked a wry smile. “Pot, meet kettle.”

  Xander laughed, and Olivia felt some of the weight that had settled in her heart ease a little. They’d discuss the issue of children later. Much later. Which reminded her, she needed to go back on the Pill.

  Inside the cottage they debated the best way to set up the bedroom to serve Xander’s needs. She’d have to contact a contractor to run the separate phone line Xander had to his office upstairs, to the cottage, as well. The Wi-Fi proved patchy, so that was another thing to be looked into. Privately she was relieved that his access to the internet would be a little restricted here initially. What if he took it into his head to do a search on himself or her? There was bound to be some archived newspaper article that would spring up with the details of the speeding driver who had killed their son and their pet with one careless act. Again Olivia accepted that she’d have to tell him about that dreadful day at some stage, but as long as she could put it off, she would.

  “How are we going to get my desk in here?” Xander asked as they surveyed the space. “I’d like it under the window, but I doubt we’ll be able to manhandle it between the two of us.”

  “Wouldn’t you rather get a new desk?” Olivia asked hopefully.

  She hated the behemoth he’d insisted on installing upstairs in the early days of their marriage. It had been their only bone of contention back then.

  “Don’t think I don’t remember how much you dislike my desk. But I love it, and if I’m moving in here, it’s moving with me,” Xander said with mock severity.

  Olivia sighed theatrically. “Well, if you insist. Mrs. Ackerman next door has a couple of university students boarding with her. They might like to earn a few extra dollars manhandling it down the stairs and into here. With any luck, they might even drop it.”

  She added the last with a giggle that saw Xander reach for her and wrap her tightly in his arms. “I’ve missed that sound,” he said before tickling her. “But I’m afraid I’m going to have to punish you for that comment.”

  By the time she’d managed to extricate herself from his hold she was weak with laughter and it felt good. She could almost believe that everything was going to be okay after all.

  * * *

  The next morning, Xander moped around the house at a complete loss for what to do with himself that he knew was at odds with his old self. Olivia had gone out to do some shopping while he was busy with the physical therapi
st. She’d been gone several hours now. Since he was alone in the house, he decided to use the time for some exploring. He went through each room, starting downstairs, poking through the kitchen cupboards and then examining every item in the living room, dining room and formal lounge. Some things spoke to him; others held their silence. No matter what, he felt as if something vital was missing, and he hated it. He wanted his life back. Hell, he wanted himself back.

  On a more positive note, the weakness that had plagued him since awakening from the coma was receding, and his physical therapist was extremely pleased with his progress to date. Olivia had suggested turning the tool room, which only had access from outside on the ground floor, into a home gym. With his physical therapist’s suggestions it had been outfitted so that he could keep up his program every single day without fail.

  Pushing himself felt good but wasn’t without its own problems. It often left him shaking and struggling to stay upright under the weight of yet another of those wretched headaches.

  He picked up a silver-framed photo that had been taken of him and Olivia on their wedding day, and he felt a strong tug of desire as he studied her face and the creamy curve of her shoulders, exposed by the strapless figure-hugging beaded gown she’d worn. At least that continued to remain the same, he thought as he replaced the picture on its shelf. The bond between them was as strong as ever. She’d been of immeasurable support to him, even if she was still shy about making love. Those barriers would come down eventually. Their relationship had always been too well-founded and their attraction too strong to allow something like his brain injury to keep them apart for very long.

  The sound of footsteps coming up the front path caught his attention. A visitor? They’d had no one since he’d come home from hospital. He’d had little to no contact with anyone else, even his mother, who lived in the far north. He’d called her once, to tell her he’d been released from hospital, but their conversation had been as short as it always was. He was fine, she was fine—end of conversation. The prospect of a fresh face was instantly appealing, and he was at the front door and ready to open it before the doorbell could even be rung. He felt his face drop as he recognized the uniform of the courier standing with his finger poised to press the bell.