The Billionaire's Marriage: A Romance Novel

by Marshall, Marnie

"I will."

  "Everything will be okay, dear. I'll be there soon. Call Edward, all right?"

  I sigh. "Okay. Thanks Grace."

  "See you in a while."

  I click the phone off. The Taylors are hovering in the doorway to the sitting room; I think they're trying to give me some privacy on the call without disappearing altogether.

  "Grace is on her way," I tell them. "Did anyone call Edward?"

  "Not yet, ma'am," Taylor admits. "Would you like me to?"

  "No, thank you, I'll… I'll do it." I stare at the handset. "Wait," I call after Gail, just before she clicks the door shut behind them. "What's the speed dial for Edward's cell?"

  "It's number three."

  "Thanks." No more stalling, Kristina, I chide myself. If I don't call him, Taylor will, and Taylor can't talk him out of rushing home, which is the first thing he'll probably do, the control freak that he is. If no one tells him and he finds out later, he'll be all kinds of angry, he'll probably fire Taylor; of these things I'm certain. And if he hears it from someone else first, like his mother, he'll wonder why Taylor didn't tell him, and once again, Taylor's out of a job, and then there's the anger thing. I've heard him on the phone enough times when something's gone wrong with whatever it is he does; I don't think I'd ever known anyone to get so upset before, not ever Ray when I totaled his car right after I got my license. God, how did I end up with such an unstable wreck of a husband? Am I nuts? I must be. I hold down button three.

  He picks up on the first ring. "Hi," he says, his voice soft.

  "Hi."

  He pauses. I think I hear him swallow. "How are you?"

  "Um, that's kind of why I called… don't freak out, but I had an episode a little while ago."

  "Oh, God. Are you all right?"

  "I'm fine. No damage."

  "I'm coming home."

  "No… please, stay there. I'm okay. Your mom is coming, she'll call when she's done with me. I'm not ready… yet."

  I hear him sigh. "Krissy, I… are you sure?"

  "Yeah."

  "Is Taylor there?"

  "He was, hold on…" I take the phone from my ear and press it to my shoulder, then call out. "Taylor?" The bedroom door opens. "Yeah, he's here."

  "May I speak to him, please?"

  I hand the phone over.

  "Yes, sir? Fine, sir. Gail and I. No, we don't think so. Top of the stairs. On the carpet, that's right. Yes, sir. On the monitor, so maybe just over a minute. She seems fine, sir. In bed. Yes, sir, I will. I understand." He hands the phone back to me. Taylor appears none the worse for wear, so I think he's safe from Edward's wrath.

  "Baby, are you certain that you don't want me to come home?" his voice practically begs. I wonder what voice he used on Taylor.

  "Far be it for me to forbid you, but I'd rather you didn't." My voice, on the other hand, isn't forgiving. I'm not ready yet, nor do I know if I ever will be.

  I hear another shuddered sigh. "I understand. Taylor will stay with you until my mother arrives, all right?"

  "Okay."

  "And you'll have her call me?"

  "Yes."

  "All right. Oh baby, I'm so sorry you had to go through that alone. I should have been there. I'm so sorry for everything."

  I'm not sure what to say, so I say nothing.

  "Krissy?"

  "I'm here."

  "Thank you for letting me know." He pauses. "I love you. So much. Please call me, no matter what the time, if you need anything. I'll be here."

  "I know." And I hang up. I suddenly want to cry. He was so sweet and loving, and I was unbelievably cold. He didn't ask what I saw; he was far more concerned with whether I was all right. I feel a strange pang of guilt over my behavior, but I'm still so angry. I'll break down that anger into whatever else I'm feeling tomorrow, after a good night's sleep. Right now, I want to be angry at him; it's so much easier to manage than being afraid.

  "Mr. King asked me to stay with you until Dr. Trevelyan arrives. I hope that's all right."

  I nod, plunking the phone down on the bedside table. I stare straight ahead at the chocolate accent wall.

  "Can I bring you anything?" he offers.

  I shake my head. I'm so filled with sulk; I might as well regress to my son's level.

  Taylor sighs. "Mrs. King, I won't pretend to know what you're going through, but your husband is a good man. I sincerely hope everything turns out all right."

  His words hit me, if only slightly, driving me momentarily from my funk. Jason Taylor really does get it. I turn my head and offer a sad smile. "Thanks."

  ~oOo~

  There's a wetness on my fingers, and then something slightly sharp clamps down. I groan, and clutch the wiggly body to my chest with one arm, reaching out to find the other. When I have them both, they still for only a minute or so, and then they're back to wiggling. There won't be any more sleeping in for me today.

  "Puppies!" Ryan squeals, abandoning his mess at the breakfast bar. Carter struggles to get him clean before releasing him to the floor, and the three little ones chase each other around the great room.

  "Good morning, ma'am." Carter seems a bit less creepy today, I'm not sure why.

  "Good morning," I manage, retrieving a yogurt from the refrigerator. Perhaps eating will make me feel less like a zombie. I suppress the raging thoughts, piling up like a threatening migraine, willing them to stay away until I'm at least fed. I don't want to feed Edward's fury, and I'm sure he's still monitoring my intake from afar, the damned control freak that he is. God, I'm angry again. I need to manage it better.

  There's a text from Edward.

  I hope you slept well. I miss you. x

  I don't doubt that he misses me. And I did sleep all right; at least, I think I did. I'm not tired, and I'm none the worse for wear despite last night's episode, but I can't seem to shake this funk cloud that's surrounded me, and ignoring the facts doesn't help, they just spring back to hit me in the gut like a suckerpunch. I really, really want to talk to someone, but of the two people I can actually talk to, there's one I don't particularly want near me right now, and the other will dissect everything I say and ask me questions I really don't want to answer. I realize I'm not going to get anywhere if I keep things bottled up… my stomach can't take it… so I dial the latter.

  ~oOo~

  "Thanks for coming all the way out here," I feel the need to justify the meeting place. Taylor and Sophie are nearby, but out of earshot, throwing Ryan's stale crackers to some interested ducks.

  "It's no trouble at all. I'm actually glad you called." John Flynn sits down on the bench next to me. "What would you like to talk about?"

  A weird giggle escapes me. "Like? I don't like thinking about any of this, much less talking."

  "Yes, perhaps I should find a more neutral way of asking. So, what do you need to talk about?" he humors me. I must sound ripely annoying, to everyone.

  I sigh. "I'm sorry for the way things just fall out of my mouth. I don't mean to offend, it just sounds that way."

  "You're entitled to more than a little hostility, considering what you're carrying around. What do you want to accomplish today?"

  "I don't have a laundry list; I just don't know what to think. I'm having trouble processing all of this; it's so outside the realm of anything I understand. Does that make sense?"

  "Of course. You're operating outside your comfort zone, as you had to when you and Edward met and he first revealed his lifestyle to you. But then, he revealed a little to you at a time, and in a different order than you've experienced in the past month, and therefore, it's different to process. Before, you learned of his lifestyle, and not the reasons behind it; those were revealed later, and so you had time to absorb his needs gradually. He took things very slowly with you. When you said no, he didn't proceed. The times you safeworded, he stopped. If you didn't, he didn't know that he needed to, and that's why you ended up hurt by his actions."

  "You make it sound like it was my fault."

&nbs
p; "Not at all… I'm just explaining the rules. They were written down, in fact. There was a contract in place to ensure your safety, and that laid out the terms and guidelines…"

  "A contract?" I interrupt.

  "You never actually signed it, and eventually you both decided against it, but Edward honored the rules, regardless. He wanted you to feel safe. He always put your well-being first; even today, and even with the D-s lifestyle so far behind him, it's his top priority."

  I pause, looking down at my twined fingers. "How can you be sure he's left it behind him?"

  "The fact that you're asking tells me that you're not willing to give up on him, Krissy. That's a very brave decision," he commends.

  He doesn't sound patronizing at all. I feel so close to snapping, and that small gesture keeps me from it, but barely. "I guess I'm not. I'm so scared, though. Are you going to answer my question?"

  "What do you think?"

  "I think you like to answer questions with questions."

  He chuckles. "You're right about that. Part of my job is to make you think, to help you form your own conclusions. I can help you weed through the facts, but only you can come to the conclusions. My opinion really doesn't count."

  "It counts to me. You may know him better than anyone right now."

  "That may be true at the moment, but you're supposed to know him the best. And you will again, one day. For now, think about this… how might you be able to tell that he's left those undesirable behaviors behind him?"

  "You're just asking my question."

  He cocks his head to the side. "Humor me."

  I swallow. "I never would have expected to find out what you told me yesterday. I imagined other things, illegal things… but not this. It's so unreal, I still can't imagine Edward like that. And now that I know, every time I think about him, I see him angry. But he's not really like that. He's been nothing but kind and understanding… well, except about my trip… and it's hard to connect that we're talking about the same person. The only time I see that he could possibly be capable is when he goes into control freak mode. It's difficult to imagine that he's… hit me. I keep wondering if there wasn't the slightest bit of malice behind it."

  "From your relationship with him at present, do you think he's the slightest bit malicious?"

  "No."

  He smiles knowingly.

  "What?"

  "You didn't hesitate."

  I didn't, did I? "What does that mean?"

  "You really want to know?" he asks.

  "Yes." I think.

  "It means you've already decided to forgive him." Flynn considers my expression before continuing. "There's something you're holding back, though. Why do you think that is?"

  Am I holding something back? I stop to think about it, but come up empty. "How do you know?"

  "Know what?"

  "That that I want to forgive him."

  Flynn pulls his feet up to sit cross-legged on the bench. "Because you've accepted that he isn't that way now. There's still fear of the unknown, and that's keeping you from trusting your instincts. You were afraid of what you didn't know, and now that you know, you're afraid that if you don't react as you're supposed to, that you're betraying your conscience. Which in a way I suppose you are. Hitting another person is wrong, this is what we're told from a young age. But in the context of the moment, it wasn't wrong, it was agreed upon, though the results were unpleasant for you. Now that you understand what drove him to that kind of behavior in the first place, and now that you know he won't ever let it happen again, you want to move forward. You're too understanding a person to sit on this for long. So I ask again. Why do you think you're holding back?"

  "Because I want him to…" my word vomit nearly escapes. I gasp.

  "You want to punish him."

  How does he always know? "How do you do that?"

  "I told you, I know you both very, very well." Flynn puts his hand on my shoulder. The contact stops my impending shudder. I'm appalled at myself.

  "I can't believe that's what I want…"

  "Hey," Flynn calls my attention, and I make eye contact. "It's a completely natural reaction, and one I noticed long before you left my office yesterday. You want him to feel the hurt you felt when you learned what he'd inflicted on you. To you, as you are now, the act was a betrayal of your trust, because you don't remember the events leading up to it. So now, you need to figure out how to express your hurt and anger. Edward is hurting terribly as it is, I promise you. Taking your frustration out on him isn't going to help you move forward, and it may actually hurt you both."

  "So what do I do, then?"

  "You're going to take it out on me."

  What? "You can't be serious." I look toward Taylor and Sophie, but they've rounded to the far side of the pond; unlikely to hear, though I'm sure Taylor is mindful of our every move.

  "I'm very serious." He takes my wrists, moving my arms to cross over my chest, so I'm hugging myself. "We're going to try a technique that I've often used on your husband. You're going to unleash your frustration toward me, imagine I'm Edward. Say whatever you feel. Don't hold back."

  "I can't do that." I'm appalled he'd even suggest it.

  "Would you rather risk damaging your marriage beyond repair? Because that's what you're doing."

  What? "How dare you," I whisper.

  "So say it. Hurt me."

  "I'd rather hurt him."

  "Well I'm him right now. Hurt me."

  "I can't!"

  "Perhaps not. Perhaps you're no good for him."

  "How can you say that?"

  "Is it true?"

  "No, I…"

  "Then what's the problem?"

  "I don't know!"

  "Yes you do." His voice rises. "Stop hiding behind your excuses and say it."

  Excuses? I feel as though he's punched me. The words bubble up before I can stop them. "I don't want to remember him!"

  "Why not?"

  "Because I'm afraid!" More word vomit.

  "Why?"

  "Because I love him!"

  Oh!

  Flynn stops, and I'm furious. I can't believe I just… wait, what? What did I just say? My mouth drops open. "Oh my God…"

  "It's all right."

  I'm appalled at myself, and when the tears silently fall, all I can do is blink. I have no idea what I'm doing, what to think, and I momentarily forget where I am. Did I mean it? I said it… so it must be true. I love Edward King. I love my husband, the man who was there when I awoke in a strange place, who was kind and understanding, who made me feel welcome and wanted, who helped me feel a little more like myself every day. How can I possibly want to hurt him, regardless what he's done?

  "Hey," Flynn calls me back to the present. "Good job." He's smiling at me, offering a handkerchief. What the hell is up with these handkerchiefs?

  I mop my face and blink a bit more. "Did I just…"

  "Yes."

  "You did that on purpose," I conclude.

  "I did. Sorry about that. There really wasn't a better way." He considers me with softened eyes.

  "So… what now?"

  "Well, you admitted the three things that really matter. The first, though it may seem important, is really irrelevant. Whether you eventually remember him or not isn't really up to anyone. It'll either happen, or it won't, and there really isn't anything left for you to be afraid of about him. Second, you admitted your fear. We can work through that, now that we both know why you're afraid. And third… well, that's food for your own thought, at least for now."

  I sigh. "Are you going to tell him?"

  He chuckles. "As far as we're concerned today, this bench is my office. It stays between us. Besides," he leans in closer, "you're going to tell him."

  ~oOo~

  As he has every evening, Edward answers on the first ring. "Hi," he answers softly.

  "Hi."

  "How are you?"

  "I've been better. You?"

  "Same."

  We
pause.

  "The moon was full last night. Did Ryan see?"

  "Yes, he saw it. He's not feeling well, so we didn't stay out long."

  "Is he all right?" Edward is suddenly alarmed.

  "Yes, it's just a cold. He doesn't have a fever. Your mom gave me some medicine to give him."

  He sighs. "You're so good with him. Is there anything I can do? Do you need anything?"

  "Just… come home tomorrow."

  There's another pause.

  "Is that what you really want?"

  Is it? It's my turn to sigh. "Yes."

  I think I can hear his smile. "Thank you, baby. You have no idea what that means to me."

  Oh, I think I do. "Let's take things slow, okay?"

  "Of course. Whatever you need, you'll have it. I promise."

  "Thank you."

  Another silence.

  "Krissy?"

  "Yes?"

  "I'll make it right. Everything. I promise you," he vows.

  "I don't want to talk about it. It's done. In the past. Not worth dredging up again."

  He sighs again. "I understand. Has John been of help to you?"

  "Some." Maybe more than some, I'm not sure yet. "Just sorting through things."

  "You can talk to me as well," he offers.

  "I know. And, I will."

  "I'm glad. I'm curious to know what you saw on Monday evening. You never did say."

  "Oh, that. It was… parts of the wedding, I think. I was looking at the picture at the top of the stairs when it happened."

  "I see," he exhales. "I'm glad it wasn't a frightening memory."

  "Me too." Something dawns on me. "Edward?"

  "Yes, baby?"

  "Why, um… I'm wearing rings, in a lot of our pictures. But I… can't find them. Did… did I… lose them?"

  "No, baby. I'm sorry, I didn't tell you. After the accident, the paramedics had to cut them off you, so they've been at the jeweler. I've since forgotten to pick them up. Did you want to wear them?"

  Umm… I hadn't thought that far. "If you still want me to."

  "Of course I do," his voice softens further, if that's even possible. "Few things would make me happier; I'll have Taylor pick them up first thing in the morning."

  "Um… okay."

  "Is there something else?"

  Is there? Just say it, you chicken. Three words. Say them! "I… um, I'm glad you're coming home." Chicken. My conscience clucks at me, flapping her elbows. Maybe I'm just not ready yet.