The Billionaire's Marriage: A Romance Novel

by Marshall, Marnie

  "Plural, Mom. Puppies. Just two… Krissy had a dog as a child, had just lost him before the memory gap, so it's still a bit fresh for her. I thought they might cheer her up."

  "I hope you know what you're doing, darling," she resumes cutting, and I marvel at her skill. I still have trouble with most food preparation; Krissy's largely refused my help in the kitchen since that finger-slicing incident that resulted in a trip to the emergency room. How humiliating to be sedated for stitches... I run my finger absently over the scar across my thumb.

  "Out with it, Mother," I say, exasperated.

  She gives me The Look. "I simply mean that you can't just take them back when you tire of them," she lectures. "We didn't have pets for you children for good reason; our busy lives wouldn't have allowed for their proper care and attention." She doesn't mention that my instability wouldn't have been good for a family pet, if one had been in my path during a particularly frustrating moment, and she doesn't have to. The thought makes me shudder. I'd have felt horrible, having taken my anger out on an innocent being. I'm not sure I would have let that happen even then, but I certainly was unstable.

  "I understand your concern, Mom. I do," she meets my eyes and the message passes between us. "But Krissy adores them, and Ryan will have companionship and learn responsibility. I did think this through."

  My mother sighs. "All right, darling. Then I'm happy for you. Did you get everything squared away with Ethan?" She smiles conspiratorially. I roll my eyes.

  "God help me, he'd better take care of her," I growl.

  "I'm sure they'll be fine." Mom's smile has turned wistful. This can't be easy for her; all her children grown, getting married and having children of their own.

  I have the sudden, irresistible urge to ask her. "Mom, how do you do it?"

  She cocks her head to the side. "Do what?"

  I sweep my hand around. "All this. Everything. Taking care of everyone, and then letting us go. It's so natural, so effortless. Everything you do, it draws us back home. How?"

  She smiles. "It's not as easy as it looks." She sets down the knife and wipes her hands on her apron, then turns to me. "Thank you, for letting me know that you've noticed."

  I can't help myself. I step in, curling my arms around her, pulling her against my chest. My mother… she didn't bring me into this world, but she gave me life. Her arms come up tentatively, palms softly against my back, and I exhale, closing my eyes. It's so… right. I wish I'd been okay with this contact long ago. I crave it now, as she runs her hand lightly up and down my spine. It calms me. She just knows.

  "We're so lost right now, Mom. I don't know what to do," I whisper.

  "I know, darling. I know." She holds me tightly, and then moves to release me, but I hold on.

  "Not yet. Please," I beg softly.

  "Okay. It's all right, Edward." Her palms resume their soft caresses over my back, the once-forbidden zone desperate for my mother's loving touch.

  "I don't know what I'm doing wrong," I breathe into her ear. I'm not about to cry, thankfully, but feel desperate, needy even. "I want her to remember us. I need her to remember. I want her to have her life back, the way it was. Everything was right and good. She was so happy. She doesn't deserve this."

  "Hush, Edward," she soothes. "You haven't done anything wrong, quite the opposite, actually. You've been an amazing husband and father, and even more so since Krissy woke up. She's recovered beautifully in such a short time, because of you. I'm blown away at how well she's done. And she is remembering, perhaps not in the way we'd hoped, but the memories are there. She's been talking to John?"

  "Yes." The one word is all I can manage.

  "Then you're doing everything right. Just have faith and be patient. She's still scared…"

  "She's scared?" I pull back suddenly. "Of what, of me?"

  My mother hasn't quite released me, and my hands are at her shoulders. I'm torn between the need to be held further and the desperate drive to know. "Tell me," I demand.

  "No darling, she's afraid of what she doesn't know."

  "She's told you this?"

  "We've spoken." This is news to me.

  "What has she told you?" My mind races with half-formed conclusions.

  My mother's hands run up the length of my arms, over my shoulders and cup my face. I grasp her wrists, gently but firmly, holding them there.

  "Well, she's a bit intimidated, but more with the situation than with you. These memories, and the way they surface, she's afraid of what they mean, since she doesn't remember the circumstances surrounding them. She hasn't yet connected herself to what she's seen, and it bothers her. Imagine yourself being thrust into a situation where you don't remember how you came to be there, but that everyone around you expects you to assume a role that is completely unfamiliar and more than a little uncomfortable."

  "I only expect her to be herself," I say.

  "Then tell her that," Mom urges me. "She's taking direction from you. Ask her what she wants. Really ask her. And really listen to what she tells you, even if you don't like what you hear."

  "What if…" I can't say it. But I have to. "What if she wants to leave me?"

  "Oh Edward, I don't think that's the case… she's crazy about you, even now. She wants to be near you. She told me that she worked really hard to walk again for you, and that your reaction was so much more than she'd expected. She's working so hard to come back to you. She needs to know that her efforts aren't going unnoticed."

  "She thinks I don't notice?"

  "No, darling, I'm telling you that you need to show her that you notice. You need to more than notice; you need to cheer her on, every step of the way. Don't leave her on her own to cope with this. Take some time off, spend it with her. She's making great strides with Ryan, but that's because they spend all day every day together. The company will be there when you get back. Okay?"

  "You think that'll help?" I'm grasping. I'll take any suggestion, no matter how farfetched at this point, and this sounds completely reasonable. So why hadn't I thought of it?

  "I know it will. Now help me with these." She releases me and turns back to her food prep, handing me a bowl. I put my hands up.

  "Oh no, I'm not allowed to work with food. My wife won't let me."

  Mom laughs. "I'm not asking you to cut anything. It's doubtful you'll gouge yourself with a wooden spoon; here, mix these together."

  ~oOo~

  "What do you suppose they're up to?" Krissy asks me. I've come up behind her, wrapped my arms around her waist. She's watching Ethan and Mia stroll along the path toward the dock.

  I chuckle. "He's about to propose."

  Krissy spins around in my hold. "You're kidding!" I shake my head. "You knew?"

  "Yes. He asked Dad's permission this afternoon."

  Krissy's jaw drops.

  "Please keep it to yourself; I'm sure they'll want to announce it."

  "But how do you know?" she demands.

  "Ethan sort of asked my blessing as well."

  Krissy looks confused. "That's not exactly traditional, is it?"

  I laugh. "No, it isn't. But I appreciated it all the same."

  She turns around in my hold again, resting her hands over mine. The moonlight is fairly strong, but the distant pair is shrouded in darkness and privacy, so there's really nothing to watch. She's quiet for a while.

  "Penny for your thoughts?" I whisper.

  She sighs. "Did you ask Ray? For me?"

  "Yes."

  "And how did that go?"

  I chuckle. "We're married, aren't we?"

  "Seriously though, what did he say?"

  "He asked, obviously, what the rush was, and I said that I knew my mind wouldn't change, no matter how much time passed, and that I didn't see reason to make you wait, since it was what you wanted. And then he consulted with you."

  "He consulted with me, on your proposal?"

  "Yes."

  "That's not very traditional either."

  "Well I'd already
asked you, so it was more of a formality."

  She pauses, considering. "What else did he say?"

  I think back. "He demanded that I take good care of you, that I let you be yourself, and to always talk to you before things have a chance to get uncomfortable." Now it's my turn to be quiet. I ponder whether I'm living up to those promises.

  "Stop that," she chides me.

  "What?"

  "You're wondering how well you're keeping you word."

  "How do you do that?" I whisper.

  She shrugs. "I'm right, aren't I?"

  I nod, my chin resting on top of her head. "You know me so well. Even when you don't think you do." I press a kiss to her hair and rest my cheek over that spot. I rock her from side to side. We're both quiet for a few moments, enjoying the cool evening air and lightning bugs over the landscape. I sigh. "I have a short business trip to Manhattan next week, and then I'd like to take a few weeks off. We can go on vacation, wherever you'd like. The house in Aspen, Europe for a second honeymoon, time out on the boat, somewhere new, or just stay home, you choose. Whatever you'd like, we'll do."

  "You're going to New York?" Her voice is small, worried.

  "This will be the last trip for a while, I promise."

  She sighs. "You have a boat?"

  "Correction, we have a boat."

  "Have I been on it before?"

  "Oh yes, many times. You've indulged me and taken sailing lessons, in fact. We haven't been out for a while; perhaps we'll go this weekend. Would you like that?"

  She looks down at her hands.

  "Krissy, what's wrong?"

  She sniffles. Oh, what have I done?

  "Baby?" I turn her gently in my arms, cupping her chin so she has to look at me. Her eyes are tearing, but she hasn't given in yet. "Talk to me, please."

  She sniffles again, shaking her head. "It's silly."

  "Don't do that, baby." I take her hands and lead her to one of the lounge chairs, pulling her into my lap. "Talk to me. Tell me what you're thinking about. No matter how trivial you think it is, if it upsets you, I need to know."

  She shudders a sigh. Her fingers pick at her charm bracelet. She's still wearing it, despite everything. "Please don't be mad," she begins, her voice apprehensive. "Was there an argument about our wedding? About a prenup or something?"

  I sigh. "This family is a gossiping bunch," I remark offhand. "Kristina, we didn't sign a prenuptial agreement. Did someone tell you that we did?"

  She looks confused. "No, not exactly. It sounded like there was some disagreement though."

  "There was. But I refused to drag you through a prenup. I trusted you then, implicitly. Regardless what others thought of our rather sudden engagement, I didn't feel that one was necessary for us. If you ever decided to leave me, you might as well take everything. My worldly goods mean nothing if you aren't here to share them."

  "You trust me that much?" She sounds incredulous.

  "Yes. No question."

  "But there's still stuff you won't tell me." Her voice is torn, likely between the weight of my admission and the depth of this feeling of disconnect, between what she wants to know and what I'm not ready to tell her, and the war within her is preventing a deluge of tears. My heart breaks for her.

  "Krissy, my love… I have been telling you things. You will know everything, in time. I promise you." And it's true, I will tell her… I have to, or risk losing her again. I struggle for a compromise. "How about you ask me some questions, and I'll answer them the best I can. If I can't right now, I'll give you the best answer I can for the moment. All right?"

  She sniffles again. I shift slightly to fish a handkerchief from my pocket and hand it to her. She dabs her nose. "Can I start?"

  "Of course you can."

  She gulps. "What's with everyone carrying handkerchiefs? Isn't that something out of the eighteenth century?"

  I laugh. Of all the things she wants to know. "Dad always expected Elliot and I to carry one at all times. You'll find most society gentlemen carry them. It's a little formal, but there you have it." I tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "What else?"

  She looks down at her bracelet again.

  "What do these mean?"

  The corner of my mouth curls upward. I felt this coming for a while. I take her hand and twist the bracelet around. "I gave this to you for your twenty-second birthday, the first as my wife. I gently tug the charms in line and go through them one by one. "Speaking of our boat, this is The Grace," I finger the catamaran, named for my mother. We visited your mother in Georgia and I took you soaring," I indicate the gilder. "On our first… date, I took you for a ride in my helicopter," I push the Charlie Tango charm across the chain. "The cab and Eiffel Tower were intended to commemorate your first visit to Europe on our honeymoon."

  Krissy gasps. "We went to Europe?" Her face turns from hopeful to devastated in a heartbeat. And she calls me mercurial, I muse. I can only imagine how cheated she must feel, knowing she's been somewhere she'd only dreamed about and not remembering the fulfillment of that dream.

  "We'll go again soon, baby. I promise," I brush her cheek with the back of my fingers. She blinks for a moment, burying her tears. I revel in a bit of pride over her ability to control the flood of emotion. "Shall I continue?" I ask. She nods.

  "The bed is a bit of a private joke between us… we've spent quite a lot of time in ours." I smile shyly. "And the ice cream; I mentioned that our first time was vanilla. You were my first in that respect, and I wouldn't have it any other way." I steel myself for the explanation with which I'm sure I'll have to follow.

  "In what respect?" she asks, her voice small.

  I take a deep breath. "My love, you weren't my first… but you were the first who meant anything to me. I love our vanilla relationship."

  She gulps. "What other kind of relationship is there?"

  My heart picks up its tempo. "I'm a little nervous discussing that… may I take a pass? I promise full disclosure, sometime in private. All right?"

  She nods, but continues to eye me warily.

  "You two all right out here?" My mother pokes her head through the sliding glass door.

  "Fine, Mom. Just talking." I tighten my arms around Krissy's waist.

  She smiles. "I won't bother you, I just wanted to let you know that Ryan's tired, I'm going to give him a bath and put him to bed, all right?"

  "All right, thank you, Mom. We'll come say good night shortly."

  "Maybe I should…" Krissy begins, and I bring my finger to her lips.

  "Let her. She loves to be the doting grandmother."

  Krissy swallows, I see the little knot in her neck jump. She's still nervous about my hint of disclosure.

  "May I continue?"

  She nods.

  I smile wistfully at the key charm. "To my heart and soul," I tell her. She smiles at this.

  "And the C is for your name?"

  "That's right," my smile widens.

  This leaves the heart locket. I slip my fingernail into the crease between and it pops open. Krissy gasps.

  "I didn't know it opened," she says, bringing her wrist closer so she can see. Cropped and cut to size is the picture I snapped of us after some particularly emotional lovemaking aboard our honeymoon yacht. It's tasteful, not hinting at anything at all, just the pair of us in our natural state. I glance over to gauge her reaction.

  Her eyes have glazed over. A second later, she slumps over in my arms.

  Shit.

  CHAPTER 13

  ~ EDWARD ~

  "Krissy? Krissy!" I frantically tap her cheeks with my fingers. "Oh baby, not again… Krissy!"

  I hear the sliding door. "Son?"

  "Dad, get Mom!"

  "Hmm…" Krissy squirms, brow furrowing.

  Oh, thank God. "Baby, come back to me. Wake up. Please, Krissy," I say softly to her, struggling to keep the fright from my voice. "Everything will be all right. It's just another episode; my mom is coming to help. Don't be afraid."

&n
bsp; My mother appears at the sliding door, softly hushing someone, telling whoever it is to stay put. She approaches with resounding calm. Her eyes place her in full doctor mode, covering whatever worry might exist. Her fingers come to Krissy's carotid pulse. "Another one?"

  I nod. "The picture in her locket charm, from our honeymoon." Krissy's eyes flutter, but don't fully open.

  "Let's bring her upstairs," my mother instructs me, moving away. I lift Krissy as I stand, clutching her close to my chest. Elliot and Kate glance frantically between us. Kate's hand covers her mouth. I assume they've been made aware of these occurrences, but witnessing one is a different matter entirely. Mom whispers a "she'll be fine" in their direction and follows behind me.

  I pass the third floor bathroom, hearing Ryan splash in his bath. My father pokes his head out the door, and I hear a whispered exchange, but I'm already elsewhere. I settle Krissy on the guest bed of my childhood bedroom, the semi-darkness enveloping us. I don't have even a passing interest in the alterations my mother has made to the room since our last visit, only to note that despite the unfamiliarity, it feels fairly comfortable. Krissy is blinking up at me, her eyes clouded with confusion.

  "A boat… a big boat," she mumbles.

  "That's right, baby," I soothe her, holding her palm in mine and brushing her hair off her forehead.

  Mom enters silently, moving to sit on the opposite side of the bed. "How do you feel, dear?"

  Krissy takes a few cleansing breaths. "Tired. Confused." She looks from me, to my mother, and back again. Mom gently flashes a penlight over her eyes, watching her pupils react. She pockets the light, satisfied.

  "Any breakthroughs?"

  Krissy shakes her head slowly.

  "Mom, can we have a minute?" I say, not really asking.

  "Of course." She gives Krissy's other hand a soothing squeeze and rises. "I'll be in with Ryan if you need me."

  The door clicks, its distinctive sound familiar all my life, even now in these uncertain surroundings.

  "Are you all right?" I ask her, gently. Stupid question, but it's what came out.