But that didn’t feel right. Philip had never called me baby. He called me things like “darling” and “sweetie.” But never “baby.” “Baby” was too common for someone like Philip. His father, as he kept reminding me, was a Harvard man who planned to be a member of the U.S. Senate someday. Harvard men don’t call their women “baby.” And neither do their sons, apparently.
A sharp pain suddenly burned through my right leg. I moaned, twitching my hand in an effort to touch that space, to see what was causing the pain. But my right arm was tied up somehow, trapped against the side of my body. And when I tried to move it, more pain burst through me, but this was pain high in my chest. My collarbone.
What had happened to me?
I was afraid to open my eyes. But the dream was completely gone and I was aware of other things now. The beep, beep, beep of some sort of monitor. It reminded me of Grey’s Anatomy, the monitors they used on the patients in the deep, emotional scenes where someone important to the storyline died.
Was I in a hospital?
My head hurt. My chest. My leg.
Fear burst through me and almost immediately the steady beep of the monitor sped up.
“Harley,” that voice said, that voice that dripped with masculinity and affection and fear all at the same time. “Harley, you’re okay, babe,” he said. “You’re in the hospital.”
Well, I’d already pretty much figured that one out.
“You were in an accident,” he said, his voice filling with grief on the word accident. Funny how you can catch the small nuances in someone’s voice when you were trying really hard not to join reality.
“My leg,” I mumbled. Not sure why I went for that one first. Maybe because it hurt the worst.
“It’s broken,” he said. “Are you in pain?”
No. Just thought I’d complain for no reason.
A hand touched my face. It was gentle, kind in a way I don’t remember anyone ever touching me. There was a certain amount of intimacy about that touch that suggested we knew each other quite well. But I still couldn’t put a name or a face to the voice.
Maybe if I opened my eyes.
“Harley?” another male voice said. This one was stiffer and a little indifferent. I definitely did not know this person. “Could you open your eyes for me, Harley?”
If I could, I would have. And I would have much rather have done it for the other guy, thank you.
Another hand on my face. My eyes being pried open, a bright light flashing in them. I turned my head away.
“That’s good, Harley,” the second voice said.
“She’s coming out of it?” the first asked.
“Yes. She’ll probably be fully conscious within a few hours. Then we can assess her condition a little more accurately.”
Condition? What was wrong with me?
And then the world slipped away again, and I was back in those weird dreams where everything was altered in some, strange way.
Chapter 5
Xander
The doctor left, followed closely by Alicia, but not before Alicia dropped a wink in my direction.
She was coming out of it. I couldn’t even begin to express how excited I was. And scared. She’d been in this coma for a total of fifteen days now. What did it mean that it took so long for her to wake up?
I picked up her hand and pressed it to my lips.
“You have to wake up, baby,” I said. “I know you can do it. You have to keep fighting. You have to come back to me.”
That’s all I wanted. I wanted her to come back to me. Nothing else mattered.
***
“Move in with me.”
“Where? Are you planning on getting a house out here?”
“No. But I have a perfectly good house in Los Angeles.”
“You want me to move to L.A.?”
I ran my hand over her bare belly and watched as her nipples tightened and puckered at that simple touch.
“I want to wake up every morning with you beside me.”
“Then move here.”
“I would, but I have this business that is taking off in Los Angeles, and it still needs my attention eighty percent of the time.”
“Can’t you relocate it to Texas?”
“It’s still in its infancy, Harley.”
“What about my career?”
“Do you know how many art galleries there are in Los Angeles County? How many art dealers just dying to find new talent?”
“Do you know how many artists there are starving on the beaches in Malibu?”
“You wouldn’t starve. I make pretty good money.”
“So you want me to be a kept woman?”
“I want you to be my woman. I don’t care what label you give yourself.”
She slapped my shoulder even as she laughed at my lame joke. “You’re awful,” she said through the laughter.
“And you love it.”
She suddenly sobered, her eyes moving over my face slowly, drinking in every inch. “Yeah,” she finally said. “I think I do.”
I leaned close and stole a kiss. “I love you, too.”
“But that doesn’t mean I want to pull up stakes and move a few thousand miles to live with you.”
“What if I introduced you to Margaret Wallace?”
Harley’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t know Margaret Wallace.”
“I do, actually. She’s my—”
“I don’t want to know if she’s some woman you dated.”
“Then we’ll just call her a friend.”
“I can handle that.”
I kissed the tip of her nose. “Margaret’s got a project going on in West Hollywood, fixing up some old warehouse to turn into a community center for the local kids. She’s looking for a talented artist to do a mural in the main room.”
“Really?”
“It’s right up your alley, babe. A huge mural featuring local children. And if I know Margaret, she’ll have all her friends there for the great unveiling, along with the local press. Thousands will see it. Whoever paints it will be a household name in a matter of hours.”
I could see the light come on in Harley’s eyes. “Do you really think she’d consider me for the job?”
“I’ve already shown her some photos I took of some of your work. She’s interested.”
“Don’t lie to me, Xander,” she said, sitting up a little. “Did you really show my stuff to her?”
“I did.”
“And she really liked it?”
“She wants to meet you. I told her you could meet her for dinner on Friday.”
She squealed and threw her arms around me, raining kisses over my face. “You’re the most amazing boyfriend a girl could ever have!”
“Remember that when I forget to put the toilet seat down.”
***
“Still unconscious,” I said with something like a sigh.
“What did the doctors say?”
“That we have to wait. That’s what they’ve been saying since the day of accident.”
“Then I’m sure they’re right,” Margaret said. “That’s what they went to school for a billion years for, right?”
“Yeah, well, I just wish something would happen. I have a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that just gets worse with every passing hour.”
“Harley’s strong. She’ll be fine. Besides, she needs to get down here and finish this mural.”
“I think the mural is the least of her problems at the moment. When she wakes up, the orthopedist says she’s got months of physical therapy to look forward to with that broken leg.”
“What about the two of you? What do you think—?”
Something made me turn as Margaret spoke. I knew what she was going to say, so I was only half listening. Maybe she made a sound. Or maybe it was just a change in her breathing. But something had changed.
Harley’s eyes were open. And she was staring right at me.
“Margaret, I have to go. Harley’s awake.”
C
hapter 6
Harley
I watched him move the phone from his ear and slip it into his pocket. And then he came toward me, a smile of such pleasure on his lips that I couldn’t help but stare.
“Hey, babe,” he said so softly that it was almost like a physical caress. “How’re you doing?”
I stared at him, taking in the dark hair, the five o’clock shadow on his wide, sexy jaw. He had blue eyes that were dark and deep, like a swimming pool late in the summer. And that smile…
“Who are you?”
The smile disappeared, as he tilted his head and studied me, looking for something that I was pretty sure wasn’t there.
“It’s me, Harley,” he said. “Xander.”
“Xander?”
“Xander Boggs. Your fiancé?”
I shook my head, scooting back a little against the thin pillow under my head. “I don’t know you.”
“Harley…”
I shook my head again, and this pain shot through my skull. I reached up and…what happened to all my hair? And why were there bandages on my bare head? And my leg, my arm…panic was beginning to build in my chest.
“What happened to me?”
“You were in an accident.”
I shook my head again, even as the evidence told me he wasn’t lying. There was a huge cast on my leg, and my right arm was in some sort of sling. I tried to pull it free, but pain sliced through my chest when I did. I lifted the sheet that covered my body and discovered a whole host of wires and tubes and strange things snaking under the hospital gown that was barely covering my body.
“I don’t understand.”
“You were out for a jog. You were hit by a car.”
But I didn’t remember that. Shouldn’t I remember that?
The door to the room burst open, and a heavyset woman walked in, a big smile on her face.
“Hello, Harley! It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Alicia Franklin. I’m one of your nurses.”
She moved up beside the bed and began fiddling with the tubes and wires, doing something I didn’t understand. I grabbed the IV tube and pulled it out of her reach.
“It’s okay, darlin’,” she said. “It’s very disorienting to wake from a long coma.”
“Coma?”
“You hit your head,” the man—Xander—said. “They had to put you in a coma while your brain healed.”
“Dr. Caliendo is on his way,” the nurse said, as though that made things all better.
Who is Dr. Caliendo? I didn’t understand what the hell was happening to me.
And then this short, handsome man walked into the room, his eyes glued to an iPad in his hands.
“Everyone out,” he said in a commanding voice without looking up.
The man—Xander—hesitated, his eyes on my face. But then he slowly walked away, the nurse moving up to his side and taking his arm, offering him support for reasons I didn’t quite understand.
Why was he upset? I was awake. Isn’t that what he wanted?
“Hello, Ms. Alistair,” the doctor said, as he came to my side. “I’m Dr. Caliendo. I’m the neurologist who has been treating you.”
“I don’t understand what’s going on.”
“I realize this can be very disorienting. I’m sure they told you that you were in an accident.”
“They did.”
“You were hit by a car and the impact drove you into a solid object, head first. You fractured your skull in several places, causing bleeding in your brain. That caused pressure that we needed to reduce as quickly as possible. To do that, we placed you in a medically induced coma. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” I reached up with my left hand to touch the bandages on my head. “You cut my hair.”
“We did. It was necessary to place the subdural screw that allowed us to monitor the pressure on your brain.”
“And my leg’s broken?”
“Your leg, a couple of ribs, and your collarbone. You were actually quite lucky in that there were no internal injuries other than the head injury.”
Lucky? Lucky for whom?
The doctor pulled out a flashlight and began flashing it in my eyes. It was annoying, but I didn’t say anything.
“Can you tell me the last thing you remember?”
I had to think about that for a minute. The last thing I remembered was the dream I’d been trapped inside of, but I didn’t think that was what he wanted to know. I closed my eyes and thought about it for a minute.
“I remember going to class with my roommate, Amber.”
“Class?”
“Yes. Figures IV.”
The doctor tilted his head slightly. “What city were you in?”
“Austin, of course. I’ve lived in Texas all my life.”
He touched my wrist lightly. “I’m going to have them do a CT on you. Just to make sure everything’s healing right.”
“Okay.”
“You try to get some rest right now.”
I watched him go, not sure what to say or do. I could see that man standing just outside the door, a worried frown on his face when the doctor stepped out. I wondered what the doctor was saying to him. I wondered what he was saying back.
I wondered where my parents were and why they weren’t here.
Chapter 7
Xander
“Are you telling me that she’s lost five years of her life?”
Dr. Caliendo looked at me, no sign of amusement in his expression. “If that’s when she took Figures IV in college, then, yes, that’s what I’m saying.”
“But then she’s forgotten all about me.”
“Not forgotten. The memories are still in there somewhere. She just can’t access them at the moment.”
“Will they come back?”
“I don’t know. It’s possible. But it’s also quite possible that she will never remember them.”
“Great.”
I turned away, trying to shove the anger that was building in my chest down. It wasn’t his fault. It was whomever it was who was driving the car that hit Harley in the first place. It was my fault because she never should have been jogging downtown. Not alone. And not in such a dangerously busy place.
***
“The CT shows that the hematoma has resolved itself almost completely. And the fractures are healing quite well. There really is no medical reason to keep her here much longer. I would suggest taking her home and surrounding her with familiar things. After time, her memories might start coming back.”
I looked at him, my head spinning with his suggestion. Perhaps that wasn’t such a bad idea. If we were alone together, maybe I could help her remember the last year of our lives together. Maybe I could remind her that she once loved me enough that we were preparing to walk down the aisle, prepared to make a commitment to one another. Maybe she would remember the dreams we’d shared together.
Maybe.
“Spend time with her, Xander,” Alicia said, coming up behind me. “I’m sure she already remembers you on some level.”
“Exactly,” Dr. Caliendo said, as he brushed past me and wandered off to wherever it is doctors go when they’re no longer needed.
I stared at the door to her room, suddenly afraid to go inside. I’d practically been living in there. Thanks to the clean clothes and toiletries Jonnie had brought me, there’d been no reason to go anywhere else. It’d be nice to go home and sleep in a real bed for the first time in more than two weeks. But would Harley feel that way? Or would she be frightened to go home with someone who was essentially a stranger to her now?
I took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Harley was sitting up, flipping through the channels on the television. When she saw me, she turned the television off.
“Hi.”
I walked over to my familiar spot—the chair beside her bed. “How are you?”
She shrugged. “I just woke up to discover that my life has changed drastically
and I have no idea what’s going on. But otherwise, I’m good.”
I smiled, relieved to see her sense of humor was still intact.
“What do you remember?”
She shrugged. “I know my name. I remember growing up in Texas on a small ranch where my parents ran a veterinarian clinic. I remember I have a younger brother and sister. And I remember going to college in Austin.”
“But nothing after that?”
She shook her head slowly, confusion bright in her eyes. “How is it possible to forget such a huge chunk of your own life?”
“You had a pretty serious head injury, Harley.”
“I know, I just…” She looked at me, tears spilling over the corners of her eyes. “You seem like such a nice guy. But I don’t remember anything about you.”
It hurt to hear her say that. Hurt more than I imagined it would. But she was awake and there didn’t appear to be any significant brain damage. That was a victory, considering. And maybe this was a blessing in disguise. Maybe it would be an opportunity to redo everything and get it right this time.
“How did we meet?” she asked.
“You’re an artist.”
“Yeah? Do I make money at it? My dad said I’d never make money at it.”
“You make a decent living. You were the showcase artist at this little gallery in downtown Austin last August.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “Not the Weston Gallery?”
“That’s the one.”
She giggled. “I’ve always loved the stuff they have there. My mom used to take me there when I was a little girl. I think that’s what made me want to be an artist.”
I nodded. It was a story she’d told me many times in the past.
“The gallery owner hired my company to set up a new security system for them. And my guy who usually does these installations was out because his wife had just had a new baby. So I went in his place.”
“And that’s where we met?”
“You were bringing in all these big, heavy canvases. I offered to help, and you told me to mind my own business.”
“Sounds like me.” She reached up to brush her hair off her face, but then realized her hair wasn’t there anymore. She dropped her hand as she drew her lip between her teeth, chewing on it like she always did when she was nervous. “Did you ask me out right then?”
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