But why go to all that trouble? What would be the reason?
Maybe she was rich and he was trying to take her money. Maybe this house was hers and he was trying to trick her, make her believe they were married. Just so he could rob her.
On her guard now, she didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to think. Glancing around, she didn’t see a phone. Not that she knew who to call. Well, she could call the police, but she wasn’t sure they’d be able to help her. Not when the doctor also claimed that Greg was her husband. Was the doctor in on it?
Feeling helpless and vulnerable, Olivia closed her eyes and tried to calm herself. Maybe the best course of action was to play along, pretend like everything was fine, that she believed whatever Greg told her. And when her memory finally returned, she would know the truth.
In the meantime, she wouldn’t do anything rash, wouldn’t sign any paperwork or do anything else that would help him take advantage of her.
Most of all, she would have to stay on her toes and not let the attraction she felt for him get the best of her. Because she was certain he was counting on that very thing.
He hadn’t wanted to tell her about her mother. He’d known she wouldn’t take it well. And he’d been right. But wow! Her reaction had been way worse than he’d imagined it would be.
She thought he was making it up. That was clear. He only wished he was making it up—not that he would do such a thing. He would have to prove to her that she could trust him, that he was telling the truth. And he knew just how he would do it.
A soft knock at the door a while later startled Olivia. She’d been dozing, but with the sound of Greg’s arrival, she was wide awake. Putting on her game face, she called out, “Come in.”
He cracked the door open and poked his head around it.
The look of distress on his face almost made her reconsider her doubts. Almost. But for all she knew, he was a fabulous actor. She couldn’t let her guard down. Not for a minute.
“Is this a good time?” he asked, as if she might have something pressing to do.
Forcing down her earlier anger as it bubbled to the surface, she nodded.
He walked in, a sheaf of papers in one hand.
Eyes narrowing, Olivia watched his every move. “What’s that?” Was he already going to try to get her to sign her life—her fortune—away?
“Just something I want to show you.” His gaze fell to the album on the floor. He picked it up and gently set it on the pile at the foot of the bed.
Wary, she tried to ignore how handsome he was. Because it seemed the more she wanted to ignore her attraction to him, the stronger it grew. That face, those biceps. The masculinity poured off of him, made her pulse race and her body long for his arms to be around her. Especially when she saw the kindness in his eyes, the love. “What is it?” Annoyed with herself for not being able to control the almost visceral reaction she was having to him, her words came out sharper than she’d intended.
He gestured toward the chair beside her bed. “Okay if I sit?”
Shrugging, she tried to see what was on the pages while pretending she wasn’t terribly interested in them. When he caught her looking, she shifted her gaze to his face, a challenge in her eyes.
A soft smile tugged his lips upward. “I hope you know I would never lie to you.”
How could she possibly know that? She’d only known him for two days.
He held up the papers in his hand. “These documents…well, I hope they convince you I’m telling you the truth. About your mother.” A pained expression swept across his face. “I wish I wasn’t. I really do. But…” He set the pile of papers on her lap. “See for yourself.”
Now she didn’t want to look, because if he was telling the truth and her mother really did have a drug problem, her amnesia would be the least of her worries.
“Just tell me what they say,” she said, refusing to look at the documents resting on her legs.
Lips pursing, he exhaled through his nose. “All right.” He pointed at the papers. “A couple of years before I met you your mother fell down some stairs and hurt her back. Badly.”
Olivia held up her hand. “How do you know this?”
Tilting his head, he frowned. “You told me.”
She hated this—him telling her things she’d said, things she’d done. Things she had zero memory of saying or doing. It made her feel like she’d lost her mind. “Go on.”
“Her pain was pretty severe so the doctor prescribed her something for the pain. Specifically, OxyContin.”
So her mother had taken pain pills. So what? People did it all the time. Her own doctor had prescribed pain pills for her, although she wasn’t sure exactly what they were. “And?”
“She became addicted.”
Olivia’s head snapped back. “Addicted?”
“Yes. It happens a lot with prescription drugs. In fact, I think that’s why you…well, why you didn’t want anything stronger than aspirin for your pain. Because maybe you, I don’t know, somehow remember what happened to your mother.”
Not able to go that far, she ignored his suggestion that that was why she’d refused prescription painkillers. “So you’re saying her drug problem is with this prescription drug?” If that was true, why would that keep her from coming to their wedding? Olivia was still confused.
“At first it was the OxyContin. But then…” A muscle worked in his jaw. “Then she moved on to using something stronger. Heroin.”
Olivia couldn’t breathe. Her mother was a heroin user? Impossible. Absurd. Ludicrous.
She was about to call Greg a liar, but then she remembered her vow to play along. Then she caught a glimpse of the documents on her lap. “What does that…” She flung her hand outward. “…have to do with this?” She pointed to the papers.
A crooked smile formed on Greg’s lips. “Your mother was so excited for us to get married, but when she asked what you wanted her to do for the wedding, you told her the one and only thing you wanted was for her to get clean.”
Picturing her mother strung out on drugs made Olivia sick. Not that she quite believed Greg’s story, but if it was true, it would be heartbreaking. Good thing she had serious doubts about his entire tale. Still, she was on edge waiting to hear what happened next—as if this was a story she was reading about someone else’s life, someone else’s mother.
“It took a lot of convincing, but she finally agreed to get help.”
Hope soared within Olivia. This fictional mother got the help she needed! “And then?”
Greg shook his head. “The day before she was to be admitted to a facility, she nearly overdosed.”
Olivia’s eyes went wide. “But she’s okay now, right?” Desperate for him to nod and smile, when he just stared at her, it felt as if her heart was plummeting right into her stomach.
“I don’t know. I haven’t heard from her in a while.”
It took everything she had not to grab Greg by the shoulders and shake him. How could he not know where her mother was? How could he leave her out there in a drug-induced stupor? That’s when she realized she was falling for his story.
Straightening against the cushions, she almost scoffed at him and told him how convenient it was that her mother was out of the picture, unable to help her with her memories. Instead, she calmly turned to him. “What happened after she nearly overdosed?”
“She was in the hospital for two days, and then she agreed to be checked into rehab.” A soft smile curved his lips. “You were so happy, so optimistic.” His eyes became tender. “Our wedding was scheduled for two months later and we had every reason to believe she’d be well by then. That she’d be able to come.” He pointed to the papers on her lap. “Those documents are copies of her paperwork from the rehab facility. She gave them to you at some point.”
Olivia’s gaze slowly traveled to her lap, and when it landed on the top sheet of paper, she couldn’t help herself. She read the information there, information which seemed to confirm what Greg
was telling her.
Swallowing over the huge knot in her throat, Olivia turned to Greg. “But she didn’t come, did she?”
He shook his head. “After three weeks in the program, she checked herself out and she…well, she disappeared.”
This kept getting worse and worse. “What do you mean disappeared?”
“I mean, she left and didn’t tell you where she’d gone.” He frowned. “We hired people to search for her, but they came up empty. To say the least, you were upset. We even considered postponing our wedding, but you were convinced that she would somehow come, so we moved forward with it.”
If that was true, why did the woman in the picture look so happy? He was leaving something out. She was sure of it.
Chapter Eight
Doubt was written all over Olivia’s face. Greg could see it. And who could blame her? Her memories of her mother were completely at odds with what he was telling her. Yet it was the truth.
“Then what?” Olivia asked, her lips twisted with a mix of skepticism and wariness.
“The day before our wedding, she called. She said she’d checked herself back in to the rehab place and that she was determined to get well this time. You were disappointed she couldn’t come to the wedding, but you were ecstatic that she’d turned up and that she’d checked herself in to get help.”
Olivia’s blue eyes were riveted to his, and as he gazed at her it was almost as if she knew who he was, almost as if she remembered him. All the good times they’d spent together, all the memories of their love, converged in his mind until he thought his heart would burst with all the love and tenderness he felt for her. He lifted his hand and reached for her face, wanting to brush his fingers against the soft skin of her jaw. But then she blinked and recoiled slightly, enough to stop his hand in mid-air, to remind him that things weren’t the same between them.
Swallowing over the tightness in his throat, Greg pulled his hand away and set it in his lap.
“You said you haven’t heard from her in a while,” she said, clearly wanting to get the conversation back on track. “Does that mean she didn’t complete rehab?”
Greg paused a moment as he tried to adjust again to his new normal, the normal that would never feel right. “No. She did complete rehab that time.” He gestured to the papers on her lap. “As those documents show.”
Olivia watched Greg’s face, almost regretting the way she’d pulled back when he’d reached for her. But it was much too soon. That, and she couldn’t be sure he wasn’t just trying to manipulate her. I have to be on my guard.
Forcing her mind back to the story he was spinning, she glanced at the papers before looking at him again. “If she completed rehab, why haven’t you heard from her? What’s going on now?”
“That was two years ago,” he said, as if that explained everything.
Right. Because they’d been married two years. At least according to Greg. But if what he said was true, it made sense that she’d been happy on their wedding day despite her mother’s troubles. Because she would have been relieved that her mother was getting help.
“What happened after she got out of rehab?” Olivia asked, maintaining the fiction that she believed him. And maybe she even did. A little.
“She seemed fine. For a while.”
This was like a nightmare that kept repeating. “Go on.”
“She went through rehab again about eight months ago.” He gestured to the papers and gave her a look that said See for yourself, then he shook his head. “Guess it didn’t take. Haven’t heard from her in over two months.”
Olivia didn’t want to hear any more. Besides, it seemed Greg was done telling his tale. He’d sat back in his chair with a tight-lipped frown, his arms on the armrests. After several moments he leaned forward, placing his forearms on his knees. “I’m sorry I had to be the one to tell you about your mother, Olivia. You wanted to know…well, to know the truth.”
Yes, she did want to know the truth. The question was, was what he’d told her the truth? She had no way to know. Not unless her memory returned.
“I’m tired,” she said as she rested her head against the pillows and closed her eyes.
“Of course.” Greg’s tone was resigned and somewhat formal.
She heard him get up, then pause while he must have stared down at her. Keeping her eyes closed, she waited until she heard him cross the floor and leave the room. Then she opened her eyes a crack. He was gone, although he’d left the bedroom door open.
Her gaze shifted to the tall sliding doors at one end of the room. The sun was setting. Maybe if she had a good night’s sleep, maybe then she would wake with her memories magically restored.
Not confident that that would actually happen, and with much difficulty, she got ready for bed before settling back under the blankets.
Discouraged by all that had happened that day, she tried to get comfortable as the toe of her boot tented the blankets. Stupid boot. The sheet and blankets were just in the way. Sitting up, she removed the bedding from covering the boot, then lay back and closed her eyes, resigned to the fact that she was not only going to be physically uncomfortable, but that her heart and mind were going to have to deal with their own struggles.
After a while, Greg stopped by the bedroom to check on Olivia. To his relief, the door was still open, although he had no doubt he wouldn’t be welcome to share the bed with her. That was fine. He’d sleep in one of the guest bedrooms, the one closest to the master so he could hear her if she needed his help. He really hoped she would call on him to help her.
Standing in the doorway, he thought she was asleep, so he tiptoed into the room, stopping beside the bed. She looked so peaceful, so like the Olivia he loved—her skin smooth and flawless, her lips wonderfully kissable, her blonde hair fanned out across her pillow. He nearly expected her to open her eyes and smile up at him in recognition, for things to go back to how they had been.
Except he didn’t want things to go back to exactly how they had been. Not if that included her betrayal.
Frowning, he gazed at her lovely face, his heart contracting with a mixture of love and sadness.
Determined to get their lives back on track, he vowed that he would do whatever was in his power to help her remember him, to remember the love they shared.
Then he remembered the way she’d called out I didn’t know. I didn’t know. What had that been all about? Did it have anything to do with the man she’d betrayed him with? Could he track the man down? Set up a meeting? Tell him to stay away, and that if he didn’t, Greg would… Well, he didn’t know what he would do, but he needed to talk to the man, confront him, tell him to never contact Olivia again, that it was over between them. Make the man understand that Olivia belonged to him, that he was her husband.
Chapter Nine
Olivia woke early. She hadn’t slept well. Every time she’d wanted to roll over she’d had to come fully awake so that she could carefully move her ankle. Scrunching up her face as she pushed herself into a sitting position, she shoved aside her frustrations and focused on more pressing matters. Specifically, trying to regain her memories.
When she’d woken it had only taken a few moments to recall her situation—struck with amnesia, injured…married to a man she found extremely attractive but who, as far as she was concerned, was a complete stranger.
It was disconcerting, to say the least.
After taking some time to freshen up and get dressed, she climbed back onto the bed.
“Good morning,” Greg’s voice boomed as he walked into the room a few minutes later, a sunny smile on his face and a tray of food in his hands.
He was trying hard to take care of her, she had to give him that.
“Good morning,” she said with much less enthusiasm.
He set the tray on the dresser, then stood by her bedside. “How’d you sleep?”
Not wanting to start the day on a bad note, she bit back a frown. “Okay, I guess.”
“Good.” His smile neve
r wavered. It was kind of getting annoying how happy he seemed. Was it even sincere? Was he always this way? Or was he putting on a show? “I made you some breakfast.” He turned to the tray. “A poached egg, fresh fruit, and a glass of orange juice.”
Was that what she normally ate? She had to admit that it sounded good. And maybe his chipper demeanor wasn’t such a bad thing. Tilting her head so that she could more easily see his face, she smiled. “Thank you.”
He glanced toward the back patio that was just outside the sliding door. “If you’d like to eat outside, I’ll take your tray out for you.”
That did sound nice. “Yes, I think I’d like that.” She looked toward the backyard. The June morning was lovely. “Just give me a minute.”
He nodded, then lifted the tray and strode to the back door. Then, balancing the tray in one large hand, he opened the door.
The tranquil sound of birds chirping in the trees flooded in, along with the fresh summer air. Yes, going outside was just what she needed.
Did she eat outside often?
You know what? It doesn’t matter what I used to do. It only matters what I do now.
Liking that attitude, she carefully swung her legs over the side of the bed, grabbed her crutches, which were leaning against the wall, and made her way outside.
Once she was sitting in a chair, Greg set her food in front of her.
“Would you mind if I join you?”
Saying that she wanted to be alone would sound rude. And to her surprise, she actually did want him to join her. “No. I wouldn’t mind.”
Tossing her a grin, he turned and walked toward another sliding door, one that led into the family room, which was adjacent to the kitchen. In moments he returned with another tray. There was so much food it took a moment for him to move it from the tray to the table. Besides a plate stacked high with pancakes, there was another plate with scrambled eggs and bacon, and a sizable bowl of fresh fruit. In addition, there was a tall glass of milk.
Pass Protection (Fair Catch Series, Book Five) Page 4