by Emery Cross
"Let me see it."
"It's really nothing."
He stepped forward, scooped me around the waist to hold me fast, then flipped my hair to the other side exposing the shaved spot. "You’ve had stitches for Christ's sake."
Standing this close to him made me falter. I didn't want to give him up. I wanted to be the loyal, steadfast person I knew I could be. Didn't I deserve a chance to prove it?
"Goddammit, tell me what happened."
I struggled out of his hold. "I will. Just give me some room to breathe."
He released me and I took a few backward steps. I thought once out of his arms I might decide to resume being a martyr. But, no. I was just desperate to be back in his arms again.
"I decided to leave the tour a day early. I wanted to be home with you. I wanted to surprise you." I dug the ticket out of my pocket and handed it to him. "I bought the ticket and then I had some time to kill. I know you prefer me as a redhead so I went to a salon. And then I was running late and there was a traffic jam and I tried to make it there on foot. I was being impulsive, as usual. The last thing I remembered was a motorcycle pursuing me.
"Apparently, the woman riding on the back yanked my purse from me and I fell and hit the curb. I was unconscious for awhile." I tugged down the sleeve of my cardigan to show him the hospital wristband. "See Unknown Female."
There was a hitch in his breathing. "Unconscious as in a coma?"
"Yes."
"For how long?"
He was EMT certified. He probably knew plenty about brain injuries. "Almost two days," I answered after some hesitation.
I didn't think he could get any paler but he did. "Jesus." His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. "But you're okay now?"
"I'm fine."
"I want to talk to your doctors."
"I really am fine."
He dragged his hand down his face. I could see that it was trembling. "Let me get this straight. You weren't leaving me...you were actually coming home to me, but now you’re packing. What the fuck?"
“I haven’t packed a thing yet because of you.”
He yanked the trash bag from my hand. “Harper, enough of this. Talk to me.”
I stared into his pained hazel eyes. "I don't think I'm good for you."
"Matt got to you. Fuck him. There are only two people in this marriage."
"He's right. I bring chaos to your life. Your work is suffering. You're suffering. You're frustrated and angry. You were never like this before."
"I never had anything to lose like this before." There were tears in his eyes. I had never seen tears in his eyes before. "Harper, baby, I refuse to live without you. I'm in love with you."
I pulled in a stunned breath.
"No, let me rephrase that. I'm fucking out of my mind in love with you."
I stepped into his arms and wept against his chest. I could feel his body shaking.
So he was allowed to say those words, but I wasn't, I thought with some resentment, yet I found myself nestling closer against the heat of him.
He lifted me into his arms and carried me to the living room and set me down carefully on the couch. Matt was still there, hanging back, observing the whole thing.
Rowley propped some pillows behind my head, and then crouched beside me and slipped off my shoes.
"What's going on?" Matt asked.
"Your sister was in the hospital with a head injury," Rowley answered without looking at Matt. "That's why she didn't come home."
"God, really?"
After tucking a cotton throw around my legs, Rowley straightened up and turned to my brother. "Listen, Matt, you're a great fucking friend, but come between Harper and me again and I won't hesitate to knock you out."
"Maybe it wasn't my place to say anything, but I didn't want to see either of you hurt."
Rowley heaved a sigh. "Matt go home. Right now I need to talk to her doctor."
Matt gave a curt nod, dug his keys out of his pocket, and left the house.
"Where can I find the discharge papers?" Rowley asked me. "I want to see what they advise for aftercare."
"I kind of left the hospital before being discharged. I'm pretty sure my last MRI was fine."
He raised his eyebrows. "You’re pretty sure? Jesus, Harper."
He walked off. When he returned to the couch he had his phone, some writing material, and a pair of scissors.
"I need the band for your admission info."
I stuck my arm out so he could cut it off my wrist.
Before anyone would tell him anything there was red tape to cut through. He had to supply health insurance information for one thing, since I hadn’t been able to recall any of that. And then there was the matter of my giving permission so that the doctor could discuss the case with him.
Rowley paced some, and lost his cool a couple of times, but once he finally had the doctor on the phone he grilled him until he'd gotten all the answers he was seeking. Though he'd been making notes on the pad of paper, he insisted on being emailed aftercare instructions.
He ended the call. "They were satisfied with the MRI results, but they think you should be monitored for a few days."
"That's your job," I said.
"Damn right it is," he said, taking a seat on the couch beside me.
"What's the detective's name?" In typical Rowley Ford fashion, he was going to tie up all the loose ends.
"I know you, Rowley, you want to see them in jail."
"I want a helluva lot worse for them. But jail for starters, yeah."
"It's not going to happen. Neither I nor the witness got the license plate number."
I crawled into his lap.
"There's one thing I don't get," he said as he stroked my back. "Why didn't you call me once you woke up?" I could tell how careful he was being. Any other day and he would have peppered that question with a few choice curse words.
"I had a bit of a problem with my memory. There were a few gaps."
"And I was one of the gaps? You forgot me?" He sounded hurt.
I snuggled against him. "Oh, I remembered you. I dreamt about you—as I always do. I just didn't remember that I was married to you. It hit me this afternoon when I was inside the MRI machine. I was panicking and I wanted you so badly it hurt." I brushed my fingers along the thick stubble on his jaw. "I know it wasn't rational, but at the time it seemed very important to fulfill my promise to you and walk though that door on my own two feet."
EPILOGUE I
HARPER
ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY...
It was raining and I hadn't brought an umbrella to work. My cardigan was soaked through by the time I entered the house.
Rowley was ready to go except for the tie draped around his neck.
God, he looked good. He also looked pissed off.
"You did remember it's our anniversary?"
How could I forget? He'd reminded me that morning before I'd even had my first sip of coffee. He'd had an accusatory tone, as if I'd heartlessly forgotten it.
"Of course, I remembered. I gave you that wrench set you wanted."
Maybe that was like giving a woman a toaster? At least, I'd given him a gift even if it wasn't an inspired one. He hadn't reciprocated so I was actually one up on him.
No, this had nothing to do with the gift. He'd been on edge lately. I'd been walking on eggshells not wanting to set him off.
I skirted around him to get to the kitchen sink.
Today, I'd made tray after tray of savory tarts. I'd chopped my weight in Vidalia onions.
I grabbed a lemon from the bowl on the kitchen counter and cut it in half. I rubbed the lemon over my fingers to get the smell of onion off. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him tie his tie with crisp, impatient movements.
I set the lemon down. "I'm just going to jump in the shower."
I pinned my hair up before stepping under the water. I’d already washed it that morning, and thankfully, it still smelled of shampoo and not onions. I raced through m
y routine. My skin was still a little damp when I wriggled into my black dress. I zipped myself up, brushed my hair and stuck a few rhinestone clips in it, and then applied another coat of mascara.
I buckled the ankle straps on my stilettos, grabbed my coat from the closet, and headed into the living room.
"Ready," I said, trying to keep my mood cheerful despite his attitude.
His gaze swept over me in that possessive way he had, which made my pulse quicken.
He took the coat from me and helped me into it.
The rain was still pouring when we left the house. It made me yearn for a cozy night by the fire with my husband, but judging by the hard set of his jaw that was not going to be happening.
I knew better than to ask him why our anniversary was making him so tense. Beyond the obvious that it was a romantic milestone, what else was there to it?
"This place is amazing," I enthused as we slid into the dimly lit booth. I'd been dying to try out this new restaurant. It was candlelit and intimate. A perfect setting for a romantic dinner.
He was monosyllabic inside the restaurant, a step up from the complete silence of the drive. I found myself trying to carry the entire conversation. I gabbed about the ambiance even though he'd barely glanced around him. I marveled about the appetizers, which he didn't even touch. He'd ordered a steak dinner and a beer. We might as well have been at one of the usual places we ate at.
"Oh, I forgot to mention," I said. "I met Denise, Tony's wife for coffee a couple of days ago. Their baby is adorable."
He couldn't even work up a one syllable answer to that. He just took a slug of beer. His obstinate silence was starting to worry me.
"I thought maybe we could get a cat."
He chuckled, but it was not a nice chuckle.
"So you want a cat instead of having my baby?"
Finally, a full sentence. "That's not what I said."
"Funny, 'cause that's exactly what I heard," he said.
I felt instantly guilty for poking at a sore spot. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
What had happened on our wedding night in that Las Vegas casino still pained me.
I hadn't gone off the pill, even though he'd been begging me to for months. His apology hadn't swayed me, because I was sure I'd had to pass unspoken tests he'd set for me to earn that apology.
I imagined him tallying up the points. One point for continuing with the culinary classes, another for getting the job I'd set my sights on, and yet another for working the job steadily and not mentioning quitting. Maybe I’d even racked up a few points for proving I could be a devoted wife.
Perhaps his inability to influence me in this one area was what all this pent-up anger was about.
I caught sight of the waiter wheeling the dessert cart in our direction. I was certainly not going to prolong the misery and order dessert.
Then the cart arrived. The waiter, who had been charming throughout the evening and far more talkative than my taciturn husband, began listing the different treats on offer.
I pointed to a triple-layered cake. “What’s that one about?”
“Chocolate cake with a caramel ganache icing made with a little bourbon.”
“It looks like a million calories.”
“Certainly wouldn’t be a problem for you.”
“That’s probably the nicest thing anybody has said to me all evening,” I told the waiter, but the words were really meant for Rowley.
“We don’t normally do this, but I’d be happy to put a plate together with a few choices for you to sample.”
“She’ll have the chocolate cake,” Rowley cut through our chatter.
Made nervous by my intimidating husband, the waiter removed the cake from the cart and set the plate down on the table with a rattle. He rolled the cart away in a quick hurry.
“Fuck. I’m surprised he didn’t offer to feed you by hand,” Rowley grumbled.
Unlike my husband, I at least waited until the man and his cart were too far away to hear me before speaking. “Thanks a lot,” I said. “I would have enjoyed a plate of samples.”
“And I would have enjoyed knocking him on his ass.”
I frowned. “That sure would have been a civilized response.”
He shrugged his big shoulders. “You want me to act civilized. Then don’t flirt.”
“That was not flirting,” I said. “I was just trying to have a tiny bit of conversation with someone friendly.”
He didn’t look convinced.
“I couldn’t even tell you the color of his hair. Now, you, on the other hand.” I closed my eyes. “You’re wearing mismatched cufflinks. And your sports watch. Your tie is charcoal with a thin diagonal line of silver. There’s a fresh nick on your chin right here.” I pointed to a spot on my own chin. “Your hair’s about a quarter of an inch longer than you prefer. Hmmm. Did I forget anything? Oh, yes, the surly expression you’ve been wearing all night.” I opened my eyes to find his heated gaze on me.
I started in on my cake. He sat back with one of his arms spread across the back of the booth as if he were waiting on me. I expected that any moment he would start drumming his fingers in impatience. But, despite his mood, his gaze lingered on my mouth as I licked the chocolate off my bottom lip. Whatever issues he had with me lately, it certainly hadn't interfered with our sex life.
The cake was delicious but it was impossible to enjoy it. Rowley’s attitude was too oppressive. I took another bite and then set the fork down and sat back and fiddled with my wine glass, taking sips as I avoided looking at him.
The waiter returned to the table with the check and a box for the leftover cake. He was no longer smiling and eyed Rowley warily as he set the items down.
I continued to sip my wine as Rowley took care of the check.
It was still raining when we left the building. He opened the umbrella we'd brought and put his arm around my waist. I could feel the tension in his body as we headed toward the car. The ride home mimicked the ride to the restaurant. No talking just the whoosh of the windshield wipers. Neither of us bothered to turn on the radio. I found myself nervously twisting a strand of hair around my finger and staring unseeing out of the rain streaked window.
Once at home, he insisted on coming around to help me out of the truck. We walked side by side again in uncompanionable silence. Maybe our anniversary was making him realize this whole marriage thing wasn't for him after all and he wanted out.
I was depressing myself. And I was done trying to guess. I walked to the kitchen and put the cake in the fridge and then immediately took it out again. I popped open the Styrofoam box then got the ice cream from the freezer and scooped out a generous amount and plopped it on top of the cake slice. I forked up a big bite and jammed it into my mouth.
Rowley brought his bad temper into the kitchen and eyed my insane tower of sugar and fat and raised a judgmental eyebrow. I took a big bite just to spite him and nearly choked on the richness.
He yanked loose his tie. "Throw that away and come to bed."
"An anniversary is supposed to be a celebration. I think I'd have more fun celebrating by myself." I opened the fridge, took out the half-full white wine bottle and grabbed the leftover box off the counter and went into the den.
He followed. "I want you in bed."
I flipped on the TV.
He leaned over the top of the couch and picked up the remote and shut it off.
I glanced over my shoulder at him. "Why are you being such a grouch?"
He lifted his lips in a sort of smile. "I'm being perfectly pleasant. Now be a good little wife and come to bed."
He reached into his suit and pulled out a narrow, telltale box.
I forgot my pique for a moment and jumped up from the couch and reached for it. He made it disappear back into his pocket like a sadistic magician.
I wanted that jewelry. I also wanted him inside of me. I swallowed my pride and followed him into the bedroom.
I put my hand out for the prese
nt.
"Hey, little gold digger you'll need to strip first."
I wriggled out of my black dress and his eyes popped wide when he saw my underwear. I swear his pupils grew ten times their normal size at the sight. I'd wondered if I was out of my mind when I'd bought this set but it was worth it for that reaction.
I approached him to kiss him; sure that now he'd gotten a good look he'd want to fool around with me wearing this sexy lingerie first before I stripped completely. I wrapped my hands around his neck and raised myself on tiptoes. His hand reached around and he swiftly unfastened my bra. So much for that theory. I let the bra slip down my arms and then laid it carefully on the dresser. I hurried to push the panties off my hips before he tore them off. Rowley could be a patient man, but not when it came to me.
I reached inside his jacket and fished out the box. I pulled off the thin red ribbon and let it flutter to the ground and then held my breath as I opened the box. It was a beautiful gold chain choker with a small lock pendant with its own tiny key. I squealed with delight.
He made me turn around so he could close the clasp. I checked myself in the mirror. "I wish you'd given this to me before we'd gone to dinner. It would've looked great with that dress."
"I wanted you to wear it just for me first."
He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it on a chair and then pulled his tie free of his shirt collar and dropped it on top of the jacket. He didn’t bother to remove his shirt; he simply unbuckled, unzipped, and shoved his pants and boxer briefs off his hips. He scooped me up, his big hand cradling my naked bottom. I wrapped myself around him.
His other hand cupped the back of my head, bringing me in for a hard kiss. I sensed his frustration even through his kiss.
His hands shifted to grip my waist. He lowered me so his shaft was aimed at my entrance.
He didn't even press me against the wall for support, he just lowered me onto his cock, his muscles in his arms bulging. He felt so right, so delicious inside of me.
He lifted me and repeated the motion. And then he did it again. It was a wonder he didn't burst his shirt seams.