“Oh. Were we working?”
He shook his head. “No, we were talking. You were mad at me. I wanted to know why so I could...fix it.”
“Why was I mad at you?” The detective in me loved a good mystery, but not when it came to my life. Would I ever get the memories back, the missing pages from the book of my life? Or would I have to settle with piecing pages together, trusting others with their version of my life?
“I don’t know. You never told me. You said you weren’t, but I could tell you were upset. All morning you were distracted, like you had something on your mind. Then after lunch you were crabby.” He flashed a grin after the word “crabby.” “So after work, I tried talking to you about that...” A long pause. “And about, well, something else.”
I waited and waited then finally said, “Okay. Are you going to tell me what?”
He inhaled and let the breath seep out his mouth. “I, uh, I ended up telling you...something...you know, that I have feelings for you.” He rolled the last words out quickly, as if it were easier to get it out that way.
My stomach leaped. “Me? Sean, you can’t have feelings for me. I’m married. And, well, it’s awkward right now, me not remembering things—”
“Yeah, don’t, Caitlyn. You told me all that already.”
“I told you...?”
“You’re married, you’ve never been in love with anyone the way you’re in love with him, and I need to find myself a girlfriend and not think about you,” he said with barely a pause and then gave me a sad sort of smile.
“I’m sorry, Sean. I didn’t know. Well, not for certain.” I sat stunned for a moment. Wow, to hear him say it like that... Could it be true? I’d loved Jarret enough to move across the country with him, away from family and friends. And start a family with him. Why couldn’t I remember that kind of love?
“What are you thinking?” Sean said, looking pouty.
“Nothing. I just wish I knew why I was upset that day. I’ll have to ask Jarret. Maybe something happened at lunch.”
“Well, don’t tell him what I just told you. He’s jealous enough. He’d kill me for sure, unless...”
“Unless what?”
He gave me a narrow-eyed look. “You noticed it yourself, the way Jarret looks at me. What if he knows about me kissing you? What if you told him, like, at lunch Friday?” As he spoke he glanced back and forth between me and the road, a distant look in his eyes. “You were anxious about something all morning, and then you were mad at me, you know, for no obvious reason. But if you told him and he got mad or...started keeping a close eye on you... And that night we were there late, just me and you. Victor saw us. Maybe Jarret saw us too. You know? And what’s more, on the way out your phone rang. You went back to answer it. I left. I swear, I didn’t see his truck anywhere. But I wasn’t really looking. Maybe it was him, checking up on you or calling from the parking lot across the street or something.”
“You’re not making any sense. I mean, supposing I told him and he was angry. Why would he call me?”
Sean shrugged and stared intently at the road for a few seconds. Then he faced me. “You said your car was found at a park. Maybe he called to have you meet him at the park, you know, to hash it out.”
As he spelled out his theory, a chill ran through me. “What’re you saying? That doesn’t make sense. Why wouldn’t we just hash it out at home?”
“Mmm, I don’t know. Maybe the phone call was from someone else who wanted to meet you at the park. Or maybe he thought you and I were going to meet up there.”
“So he followed me to the park and...”
“Yeah, and took it out on you in some way or another that gave you amnesia.”
Annoyed by his suggestion, I let out a disgusted grunt. On impulse, my hand shot to the sore spot on my head. The bump had gone down considerably, but the skin was still tender. Sean wouldn’t know about the bump. I hadn’t told anyone at work about it, had I?
“I can’t listen to you, Sean. Jarret would never hurt me.” He did have a temper, and he was terribly jealous, but I couldn’t imagine he would hurt me. Of course, when we were younger, Roland did come to school with unexplained bruises.
“Maybe he didn’t do it on purpose,” Sean continued. “Maybe he was angry and something happened, something bad. Then maybe he got scared and took off. Or maybe he didn’t even know something had happened to you. Maybe you took off, angry at him, and he went home.”
“Stop it! Just stop it!” Anger rising to the surface, I cut Sean a harsh glare, but he didn’t turn from the road to see it. “I can’t believe he would leave if something bad had happened to me. He’d feel instant remorse.”
“Is that how he is? Does he apologize and fix his mistakes right away, or does he have to think about it? Does it take him awhile?” He pulled into the parking lot of Wright Investigators.
The instant the car stopped, I flung open the door. “I’m going home to change.” I didn’t look at him, didn’t want to answer him. But I thought about it. The Jarret I remembered did make rash decisions. Was he still like that or had he changed?
I stomped three cars down and shoved the key into the lock of my dusty dark-blue Honda, forgetting again that the car remote could unlock my door. I’d never had a key fob before. Why did people call it a fob anyway?
Dropping into the driver’s seat, I continued mulling things over. Jarret hadn’t wanted me to talk to Roland, told me he needed to think about it. Fortunately, Roland sensed trouble and had flown clear across the country without being asked. But then, Jarret still didn’t want me to call my mom or a friend to help get things straightened out in my mind. No, he didn’t make quick decisions or fix his mistakes right away. But would he abandon me when I was hurt?
CHAPTER 23
STANDING AT THE bathroom mirror, I smeared cold cream on my face. Maybe I should call Jarret to tell him; he’d be glad. I closed one eye and rubbed cold cream on it, making a disgusting gray paste. That glare on Jarret’s face when he’d seen me all made up... My father wouldn’t have given me a look half as bad. Of course, I had never put Dad to that test. I always hated make-up and skimpy clothes. Maybe because I had nothing to show off, as tubular as my body was. It wasn’t a figure a girl would want to draw attention to. Still, I hadn’t looked bad in the short jumper. Sean certainly couldn’t take his eyes off me.
Turning from the mirror, I glanced at the denim jumper that lay crumpled in the corner. Jarret would want me to throw it away. I shrugged and slapped cold cream onto my other eyelid. I’d never wear it again anyway. It wasn’t my style. Whether I looked good in it or not, I stood firmly against dressing to draw that kind of attention to myself. My mode of fashion was a skirt that came at least to my knees and a pretty, but modest, top.
After removing all traces of make-up, I worked on my hair, relocating the part to a more reasonable position on my scalp. Then I gazed at my reflection in the mirror to assess my overall appearance. With bone straight hair, I wasn’t back to normal, but I looked fine. Maybe I would wear my hair straight every now and then. It made my green eyes stand out. Hadn’t I woken with straight hair on Saturday? Did Jarret like straight hair?
The theory Sean had suggested came to mind. Could there be any truth to it? Jarret definitely showed signs of jealousy, but to suggest that he would follow me to a park and then— No. That would go beyond jealousy.
With a quick glance at the time, I swiped my keys from the back of the toilet and headed for the door. My stomach complained. If Sean had agreed to swing by the house, I would already be back to work and eating at my desk. Now I would have to pick up something for a late lunch. Sean had worried Jarret would be at the house, waiting for us. I giggled. He was so paranoid. Jarret was probably—
As I touched the doorknob of the front door, it turned. Heart leaping from my chest, I gasped and backed up.
The door swung open and there stood Jarret in tan khakis and work shirt. My heart returned to my chest. Of course, it was Jarret. Who else
could it have been? I exhaled, unreasonable fear melting away, but the discomfort created by his presence replacing it.
“Hey.” He gave me a head-to-toe glance and stepped inside. “You look good.”
“Thanks.” His compliment made my face warm.
I watched him strut to the kitchen, tempted to ask him a few questions, but I hadn’t been alone with him since Roland arrived, and it felt weird now. Should I talk to him about Sean? If he knew about the kiss, did he blame me? If I’d told him, had I blamed myself? I decided to ask harmless questions instead, intending to leave after a few pleasant exchanges.
“So... what’re you doing here?” Remaining near the door, I clasped my hands together and smiled.
“Lunch.” His tone said I should’ve known, as if I shouldn’t assume he was checking up on me.
“Do you usually come home for lunch?” The smile faded from my face, an accusing glare replacing it.
He pulled open the refrigerator and grabbed a few things. “No. Never. It’s too far.”
“Why today?” Did I really want him to answer that question? He’d seen me in Sean’s car at the abortion clinic. He may have assumed Sean would’ve driven me home to change. The thought of me and Sean at the house may have been too much for him. Especially if he knew about Sean’s kiss, and if he had seen our cars after hours at Wright last Friday.
But a strong relationship needed trust. Jealousy had no place in it.
“I thought you might be here.” He set his lunch fixings on the island counter and dragged the bread closer. “Thought you’d want to change after your appointment.”
“So, you’re here to make sure?” I meant to sound playful, but it came out rude. This was my husband. Why should I find it so hard to talk to him?
He glanced, looking unsure of how to take me. “Noooo.” He laid out two pieces of bread.
“Just like you showed up at the abortion clinic to make sure Sean hadn’t come.” Guilt and shame flooded my mind, making me regret saying this. I was not ready to discuss Sean with him. Not at all.
He opened his mouth and stared. Then he blinked and continued fixing his sandwich. “I came home because I wanted to tell you something.” Another glance. “Hungry?”
“Yes, but I’ll pick something up. I can’t stay.” I took a breath, relieved that he’d decided not to get into it. Then I went as far as the loveseat and stopped. “What did you want to tell me?” Wondering why he made me so nervous, I rubbed a seam on the back the loveseat.
He piled a mound of shaved ham onto the bread and opened a baggie of sliced Swiss cheese. “I’m gonna be late tonight.”
“Oh, that’s fine. No problem.” I turned around. He’d missed a few days’ work because of me, so I didn’t doubt his boss would want—
He huffed loudly. “Ain’t ya gonna ask me how late? Ain’t ya gonna ask me why? Ain’t ya gonna ask if you should wait for me for dinner?”
My heart prickled with compassion stirred up by the anguish in his voice, the accumulation of pain I’d caused him. Of course a wife would ask those things. If I could only remember being his wife. “Oh, I—I’m sorry. Why are you going to be late?”
Jaw clenched, he shook his head at his sandwich. Then he whipped the mustard squeeze-bottle, sending it flying down the counter. “You don’t care about me at all, do you?” His words flew out rapid-fire. “Or about us. You go, against my wishes, into an abortion clinic—”
“Not to have an abortion.” The words gushed out with shock and indignation. “I would never.”
“I don’t know, Caitlyn. I don’t know you anymore and you don’t know me. We don’t talk. Are you even trying to remember?”
“Of course, I’m trying to remember!” I shrieked. “But you don’t make it easy. You’re practically stalking me. You won’t even let me call my mom.”
A moment of frozen silence passed. “I have a reason for that.”
“Oh? Care to explain?”
He shook his head. No eye contact. Rigid as ever.
“Why are you so insecure?”
“Why do you think? The more people you turn to, the less you turn to me. Like now, you’ve got Roland. You go to your work. I go to mine. We have to see each other at dinner, but then you head to the bedroom, to our bedroom where I no longer sleep, and I’m outta your hair.”
His words continued to sting that deep place in my heart. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I wasn’t that kind of person. And this was my husband. “Jarret, don’t.”
Without thinking the action through, I ran to him.
He stepped back, an expression of shock turning to one of longing as I flung myself at him.
I wrapped my arms around his waist and tucked my head in the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry that I don’t remember how things were between us, and that this is so painful for you. I don’t mean to hurt you.” His cologne and the scent of him—of Jarret—the feel of his body against mine, his whiskers against my cheek, and my nose against the smooth skin of his neck overwhelmed me with a dizzying effect.
After a moment’s delay, he encircled me in a firm, comforting embrace and buried his face in my hair. “I’m sorry too.” Emotion laced his voice. “I know I’ve been acting like a jerk. I shouldn’t have gone up to spy on you. I want to trust you again, but when you look at me like we’re back in high school… I need you, Caitlyn, need you to remember what we have.” He kissed my head twice. Dropping more kisses, he sunk his hands into my hair and guided my face up to his. He pressed a kiss to my cheek and, breathless, whispered my name.
My thoughts spiraled out of control and scattered, leaving only a sinking, helpless feeling. Then it dawned on me what signals I’d sent by running to him, by hugging him. I wasn’t ready for what I suspected came next.
His lips grazed my cheek, tracing a warm, tingly path to my mouth.
Heart racing and overcome with a desire to flee, I retracted my arms from around his waist and withdrew from his embrace. “I—I have to get back to work,” I whispered, touching my cheek, still warm from his kisses, and hoping the rejection wouldn’t crush him. I wanted to remember my feelings for him, but I didn’t.
Hurt flickered in his eyes, realization of the pain he’d risked by allowing himself to be vulnerable. Dropping his gaze, he rubbed a hand up his chest and over his face, then shoved his fingers in his hair. “Okay, then, I—I’ll see you later. I missed a few hours today.” He glanced, his arm swinging awkwardly to his side and his posture shifting as if he no longer felt comfortable in his own skin. “And I’m behind on a few things. Got deadlines. So I…I don’t know how late I’ll be but...”
He looked at the mustard bottle on the floor with a grumpy expression, resignation heavy in his tone. “Well, I’m sure you can find something to do. You and Roland.”
CHAPTER 24
“OH, PLEASE CALL him,” I begged.
I walked backwards so I could read Roland’s expression as we crossed the parking lot from Wright Investigators to my Honda. Heat radiated from asphalt that had baked in the sun all day, warming my ankles.
Roland’s gaze flitted from me to Sean, who made a backward glance on the way to his car, to Mitch, who had just left the building, and back to me. Victor was out on an appointment and Candice was the only one who didn’t seem anxious to leave at five.
Wanting to convince Roland, I grabbed his hand and clasped it between mine. “Ple-e-ease.”
“I don’t know.” With the hint of a smile, he tugged his hand free. “I think you should call. He won’t like hearing that question from me.” Sweet Roland, gray eyes flickering with concern, always seemed so considerate of others’ feelings.
Turning around, I fished the keys from my purse. “I don’t want to ask him.” A twinge of guilt struck me. I should be the one to ask, but I doubted Jarret would like my idea. “He gets so moody when I talk to him. I told you how he threw the mustard bottle.” The entire incident threatened to invade my thoughts.
I quickened my steps to the car and lift
ed my key fob, remembering to use it this time to unlock the doors.
“Well, it’s not like he threw it at you.” Roland must’ve hated that I’d mentioned the incident, especially since I’d said it in the office, within earshot of Sean and Mitch. He’d caught the “I told you so” look Sean had given me, though he wouldn’t have understood its meaning.
I hadn’t meant to complain, shouldn’t have brought it up at all, but I couldn’t stand the emotions clashing inside my brain ever since seeing Jarret at the house. And I’d wanted Roland to know we had spoken and that Jarret had to work late.
“Let’s stay home,” Roland said. “We can rent a movie and make something for dinner.”
Frustrated, I groaned. “Why should I have to ask permission anyway? He said he was going to be late and I should find something to do.” I dropped into the driver’s seat of my warm car and closed the door. In the few seconds it took Roland to walk around the car, the impression of Jarret’s embrace came unbidden to my mind, the feel of his whiskers on my cheek, his skin, his scent, his kisses...
The passenger side door opened, swirling my thoughts like fall leaves in a little whirlwind. Roland got into the car, closed the door, and sighed. “Caitlyn, you know how Jarret is. If he comes home and we’re not there, he’ll think the worst. So it’s not asking for permission, it’s just... it’s being married.”
“Oh, ple-e-ease.” Desperate to run from my thoughts, I twisted toward Roland and reached for the cell phone on his belt, but he grabbed it first. “Just call him!” I shouted.
Shaking his head, Roland sighed and made the call. A few seconds later he said, “What?” into the phone, sounding offended. “Nothing’s wrong. Can’t I call you?” He gave me a glance, then stared out the window. “Hey, Caitlyn said you’re going to be late tonight, and she’s tired of hanging around the house. You wouldn’t care if we saw a movie, would you?”
“Please, please, please,” I mouthed.
Roland shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Get serious, Jarret. It’s not a date. She’s my sister-in-law. I have a girlfriend and Caitlyn’s got you... Ahhhh, you know it’s not like that... Oh come on, Jarret.”
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