“For a start, we’re not exactly getting married at Westminster Abbey. We both decided on a very quiet, small affair, fifty guests, minimum fuss. We’re not planning D-Day. And secondly, it’s not an issue. We won’t be cancelling.” His voice held the hint of steel she was beginning to recognize.
She glanced across at him. “You’re serious about wanting it to go ahead still, aren’t you?”
“Dead serious. I’ve waited long enough to put a ring on your finger. I’m not letting a little thing like you forgetting my name delay it.” He gave a small smile, but she could see he meant what he said. He really expected her to stand beside him at the altar in ten days’ time and say ‘I do.’ He was either delusional or supremely confident of his ability to charm her. She felt a twinge of irritation at the knowledge that it was likely to be the latter.
Well, she wasn’t going to fall at his feet just because he had a twinkle in his eye, the cocky bastard. He was very nice, and she suspected that when she got her mojo back she’d be getting all the feels physically, but at that moment, if her memory didn’t return, she couldn’t imagine any way she would be marrying him.
Marriage wasn’t something to be entered into lightheartedly. All relationships involved a certain amount of power play, and she felt uneasy that she couldn’t remember what theirs was like. Several times, she’d had the feeling he was hiding something from her. Marrying him without remembering would involve a large degree of trust that she’d been happy and knew what she was doing. But right at that moment, she didn’t trust anyone, including herself. She wasn’t going to marry him just because she was worried about upsetting him, or disappointing her family, or cancelling the flowers. She would marry a man only because she loved him and wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, and at that moment, she didn’t feel that way about Rafe.
Besides which, where was the harm in delaying the wedding for a few months? What was the hurry?
“Give me a week,” he said as if he’d read her mind. “Next Saturday, we’ll sit down and have a serious talk about what we’re going to do, and it’ll still give us three days to cancel, if that’s really what you want. Until then, try not to stress about it. We just need to spend some time together and get to know each other again. I know you don’t remember me, but in an odd way you’re a stranger to me, too.”
She frowned, puzzled. “Have I changed so much over the past few years?”
“Well, yes. I don’t mean to belittle what you’re going through, but this isn’t easy for me either. You’re not the woman I was going to marry. And yet you are, of course. I can’t quite square it in my head.”
She hadn’t thought of it like that. It must be very difficult for him, not just because she didn’t remember him, but because she seemed to have changed so much. She felt a twinge of pity for him. “That’s fair enough. I promise I’ll give it a few days and I won’t rush the decision.”
“I can’t ask more than that.” He glanced at her. “Why don’t you close your eyes for a bit?”
“I’m not tired.” But she was, of course, and even before he answered, she let her eyelids drift shut.
“I’ll be here,” he said softly. “I’ll look after you.”
I know, she wanted to answer, but tiredness had overtaken her, and she drifted away.
*
When she woke again, they’d taken the turnoff from the state highway to Kerikeri, and were heading into town.
“I slept the whole way,” she said in dismay, straightening in the seat. “I’m so sorry.”
“You’re going to need to rest a lot,” Rafe said, glancing over at her. “Don’t worry about it.”
She looked down as he squeezed her fingers. He’d been holding her hand. As she watched, he withdrew his and returned it to the wheel.
Not saying anything, she turned her attention to the town as he drove through it.
“It doesn’t look much different,” she said. “Some new shops. Some I remember.”
“There’s the Bay of Islands Brides.” Rafe slowed the car and pointed to a shop on her left. Phoebe caught her breath at the sight of the large shop window with its display of beautiful gowns, and the Bridal Cafe next to it, with chairs and tables spilling onto the sunlit path. “I can stop if you want,” he said.
“No, maybe tomorrow.” One step at a time, she reminded herself.
“Okay.” He drove through the town and over the bypass, then back down toward the river, finally turning onto a side road, then pulling onto a drive fronting a long, low house. “Home,” he said, turning off the engine and smiling.
Phoebe got out of the car, her heart picking up speed at the thought that this was the home she shared with Rafe. This was where they were going to live as a married couple. A row of smallish pohutukawa trees hid the house from the road, and it seemed to nestle in the surrounding bush. The front lawn was carefully tended, scattered with lilac-colored petals from the large jacaranda tree in the middle. The wooden walls were painted a rich cream that made it glow in the afternoon sun.
Rafe collected her bag from the car, then took her hand and led her toward the front door. He unlocked it and stood back to let her through.
She slipped past him into the cool interior, and found herself in a large open-plan room, with a kitchen to her left and a living room in front of her. The whole front wall was glass, and it overlooked a deck, and from that a bank leading down to the inlet.
Rafe took her bag along a corridor to her left behind the kitchen, presumably to one of the bedrooms. She stepped down into the living room and walked slowly across it. There were signs of a female presence around, which must mean they were her things—a pair of feminine slippers under the table, half a dozen bridal magazines on its surface, a calendar on the wall covered with handwriting that she recognized as her own listing people’s birthdays and anniversaries. A box with a big label saying ‘Wedding’ in fancy script rested on a desk in the corner. Above it, another calendar on the wall bore a countdown to their wedding. She opened the box to find a neat pile of folders labelled with things like ‘Flowers’ and ‘Catering’. Each of them held flyers, a list of phone numbers, photographs cut from magazines, and a timeline of the organization she’d done.
She closed the box and glanced over her shoulder at Rafe. He stood in the center of the room, his hands in the pockets of his jeans.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“It’s nice.” She turned slowly, looking at the artwork on the walls, the cushions on the sofa and chairs. Had she chosen the decor? Had she bought that ornament, knitted that sweater slung over the chair? “I don’t remember it, though,” she whispered, turning back to him. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
Tears filled her eyes. “I really thought it would jog my memory, and everything would come rushing back.”
“Hey.” He walked up to her, taking his hands out of his pockets. “It’s all right. It’s just going to take time.”
But the tears spilled over her lashes, and she couldn’t stop them.
“Come here,” he said, and, without asking, he pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly.
She stood there stiffly for a moment, her heart hammering at what felt like an invasion of her space, but he didn’t let her go, and eventually she forced herself to relax. Turning her head to rest her cheek on his shoulder, she closed her eyes and inhaled. He’d used a body wash that smelled of lime and mint. His young, strong body felt warm and hard against her fingers as she splayed a hand on his chest.
He rubbed her back and murmured softly in her ear, words meant to console, “There, there,” and, “It’ll be okay.”
“I want to remember,” she said. “I want my life back.”
“I know.”
“I miss it, even though I don’t remember it. Does that make sense?”
“Sort of.”
I miss you, she thought, although she didn’t say it. Being this close to h
im felt a strange mixture of weird and familiar. In her head, she was eighteen, untouched, her only experience with love a brief relationship with a guy at sixteen that hadn’t developed into anything more intimate than kissing in the trees around the school fields. How strange was that? Rafe had suggested that they’d set the bed alight, but although she understood the mechanics, she didn’t remember how to please a man. If she were to go to bed with him, he’d be disappointed that she didn’t know what to do.
She pushed back a little, and wiped her face. “Could I have a drink?”
He dropped his arms. “Of course. Why don’t you sit on the sofa, and I’ll make us a coffee. Maybe we’ll watch a movie? Would you like that?”
She nodded and walked over to the TV as he went into the kitchen. “This screen’s huge.”
“We’re big fans of watching TV. It’s our one real vice.”
“Where are the DVDs?”
He started making the coffee. “We got rid of them all. Everything’s online now. Have a look at Netflix.”
She turned on the TV, startled to find it like a big phone, with apps on the screen she could highlight and choose. Bringing up Netflix, she stared in wonder at all the series and movies available. “Wow. What shall we watch?” She scrolled through the movies. “What was the first movie we saw together?”
“We saw something called Pride and Prejudice and Zombies.”
“Seriously?”
He laughed. “Yeah, I know it doesn’t sound like a first date movie, but it was brilliant. You loved it. Go to Google Play—we own it on there.”
She followed his directions and brought it up. “Can we watch it now?”
“Sure.” He brought their drinks over to the coffee table and sat beside her on the sofa. She pressed play, and they settled back to watch the movie. He sat with one arm stretched out along the back of the sofa, almost around her, but not quite, his thigh a few inches from hers. He still smelled gorgeous. Part of her wanted to snuggle up to him, not for any sexy reason, just to be close to him, because she realized he made her feel safe. The photos on her phone had proven that they were a couple, and the way he acted told her how he felt about her.
She wasn’t ready to return to being lovers. But he was hers, and she was his, and she didn’t mind that as much as she had at the beginning.
Chapter Eight
After a few minutes, Rafe’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he slid it out to check the message.
“Am I stopping you from doing something?” Phoebe asked.
“No, of course not.” He tapped a quick message in, sent it, and tossed the phone aside. “That was Josh, asking how you are. People have been asking continually. Everyone’s concerned.”
“I don’t want to see anyone yet,” she said in a small voice.
“I know. I’ll deal with them.”
Phoebe leaned her head on the back of the sofa, her eyes meeting his. He longed to reach out and caress her hair, but he was worried about touching a sore spot, and besides, he didn’t think she would want him to. He understood, but it made him sad that she was being so reticent. Maybe he’d been wrong in trying to push for the wedding to go ahead. Perhaps he should have acted as if he’d never met her either, then of course they wouldn’t be getting married in ten days.
She was still studying him, a puzzled look on her face.
“What?” he asked softly.
“Why me?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why did you choose me?” She looked genuinely bewildered. “You’re gorgeous. Sexy. You could have any woman you want. Why me?”
Warmth spread through him at the thought that she still thought he was sexy. But he just smiled. “Because you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, inside and out.”
“Yeah, right,” she scoffed, but he didn’t look away.
He turned in the seat a little to face her, captivated by her shining green eyes. “When I walked into the bar with Elliot, I saw you right across the room. You were standing talking to some friends. You’d been to a big bridal convention in Auckland with your mum and sisters where you’d been showing some of your dresses. You were wearing a pale pink pantsuit with a white blouse and high heels—you stood out amongst the women in the bar, so elegant, full of confidence. Elliot saw me staring and laughed, and took me right up to you and introduced us. We went over to a table and sat for an hour, just talking. You were the nicest person I’d ever met, gentle, kind. And funny, you made me laugh all the time. I fell in love with you right away.”
A flush filled her cheeks. “You’re just saying that.”
“Nope. I rang you a couple of days later and asked you to come to the movies with me, and you said yes. I put my arm around you as soon as we sat down, and you laughed and said, ‘You don’t waste much time,’ but you didn’t push me away, and I was over the moon. I walked you home, and I kissed you that night. I had stars in my eyes.”
It gave him a glow inside to remember those early days. He still loved her deeply, but there was no doubt that life had taken its toll on their relationship. It was still as passionate as it had been back then, more so maybe, as they knew each other well and were extremely compatible in the bedroom. But the pressures and frustrations of daily life had molded and changed them, and the last few months, especially, had been trying.
But Phoebe didn’t remember any of that. She was looking at him the way she had that evening in the bar. You’re gorgeous. Sexy. It sent a tingle through him that started at his toes and went all the way up to the roots of his hair.
“It’s odd,” she whispered, “I keep forgetting we’re engaged. And then I remember, and I think well, it’s okay if I have feelings for you—I’m supposed to! I could hug you or kiss you and I wouldn’t be forward or tarty; in fact it’s good that I feel that way. But then I think of actually doing it, and I go all hot inside.”
He chuckled. “Just go with the flow.”
She nibbled her bottom lip, her gaze flicking to his arm, but she still didn’t say anything.
“Want a hug?” he said.
Her eyes came back to his, and she gave a little nod.
He moved his arm around her shoulders, and she curled up against him.
Rafe gave a silent sigh and pressed his lips to her hair. Maybe there was hope that this was going to work out after all.
“You smell good,” she said.
“Why, thank you.”
“I must smell awful. I need a shower.”
“Well, you don’t, so let’s tackle that tomorrow. Just rest, today.”
She nodded and laid her head on his shoulder.
Ten minutes later, Rafe felt her growing heavy against him, and he looked down at her face to see her eyes closed. Turning a little on the sofa, he stretched out his legs and lay back, tucking a cushion under his head, and bringing Phoebe with him. Without waking, she nestled up to him, and he tightened his arms around her.
He left the movie on, half watching it as he dozed himself, content to just lie there with her in his arms.
*
When she awoke, it was nearly five p.m. The movie had finished, and Rafe was getting stiff, but he hadn’t wanted to disturb her.
“Jesus,” she said, pushing on his chest to lift herself up. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He rose too, stood, and stretched. “How are you feeling?”
“Hungry. And I have a headache.”
“It’s time for your painkillers. Come on, I’ll start some dinner.”
He led her up to the kitchen and poured her a glass of water, and she took her medication while he opened the fridge and investigated the contents. “What do you fancy tonight?”
She picked up a pack of two sirloin steaks he’d bought for himself.
His eyebrows rose. “Seriously?”
She shrugged. “Might as well before I go back to being all self-righteous.”
“Whatever the lady wants. I’ll
do a blue cheese sauce, how about that?”
“Sounds lovely. Um… I thought I might change?”
“Sure.” He led the way down the corridor. “This is our bedroom.” He took her into the large room with the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the river. “You can sleep here tonight; I’ll take the sofa.”
“Don’t we have a spare room?”
“Yeah, but we’ve got a lot of fitness equipment in there. The sofa’s comfy enough.”
Turning away, he pulled open the chest of drawers nearest the window. “This one’s yours. And your clothes are hanging up there.” He indicated the wardrobe on the right. She opened it and ran a hand across the skirts, suits, and dresses.
He opened his own drawers and took out a clean tee and a pair of shorts. Without thinking, he tugged his All Blacks shirt over his head and tossed it onto the bed, then went to unbutton his jeans. He stopped as he realized she was staring at him, her gaze sliding to the muscles on his chest.
“Oops,” he said. “Sorry. It was automatic.” Grabbing the items, he went into the en suite bathroom behind them, sprayed on some deodorant, then changed his clothes, only emerging when he was fully dressed.
Phoebe’s gaze raked him, and he wasn’t sure if it was relief or disappointment in her eyes when she saw him clothed.
“I thought I might put a nightie or some PJs on, just to be comfortable,” she said.
“Ah… I don’t think you own any. You don’t wear anything in bed.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Oh.” Her face went scarlet.
He tried not to laugh. “Your T-shirts are in that drawer. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
He left her to it, chuckling to himself, and started on the steak, rubbing some spices into the meat before heating up the oil.
She came out a few minutes later. To his surprise, she was wearing one of his tees over a pair of track pants. “Hope you don’t mind,” she said, taking a seat on one of the stools by the breakfast bar. “It’s nice and loose.”
“Of course not. It looks better on you.”
“It smells nice too.” She lifted it and buried her nose in it.
Bride in Trouble Page 7