I’m sure you and Vince feel the same way, right? Ridding yourselves of the guilt? I’m so glad to see the two of you have patched things up.
She’d wanted to question Mom further, but then she changed the subject, launching into a long, wrung-out discussion about her dad. Not wanting to deviate, Amber let her mom get it all out. Her mom had no one else to talk to—everyone she knew was tired of pretending sympathy when really they wanted to yell at her to dump the loser once and for all.
Amber knew this because she’d felt the same exact thing once or twice herself. It didn’t matter that the loser in question was her father. He did nothing but drag Mom down.
But she didn’t seem to mind. She was loyal to a fault.
All the rehabilitation Amber paid for was more for her mother than her father. Her mom deserved a better life than being married to a reckless drunk.
During the return drive home she rehearsed it fifty different ways, how she should ask Vince about what her mom said. She’d come up with what she thought was a nonthreatening way to ask him and had fully planned on doing so the moment she got home.
The comments she and her mom made about guilt had ate at her, though. She’d never admitted to her husband about her father’s drinking problem. No one knew outside of the family and what few friends her mom had. It was their dirty little secret, so it had felt good to unload on Vince. And he’d been so thoughtful, so understanding, she knew she’d done the right thing.
That was why it was so hard to confront him about their past troubles. Troubles she didn’t recall and that left her completely frustrated. Vince was so attentive, so loving, she had a hard time wrapping her head around them having such problems that she would’ve spoke to her mom about it. That she would be having dreams about it.
But there the hazy facts were, staring her in the face. It was hard to reconcile, but she needed to.
“Vince,” she started, withdrawing from him slightly so she could meet his gaze. He studied her openly, his mouth curved into the faintest smile, his eyebrows lifted. He looked so happy she just couldn’t confront him. She chickened out. “I’m thinking I would like to go to a psychologist.”
His dark brows instantly furrowed and his smile turned into a frown. “Why? Are you unhappy?”
“No, absolutely not.” She shook her head with a little wince. Her arm was bugging her. She’d heard murmurings of yet another surgery if it didn’t heal properly and that was the last thing she wanted to dwell on right now. “I just…I don’t like not remembering things. I feel like a piece of my life is missing.”
“Just a short piece,” he interrupted.
“But still a piece. And I don’t like it. It’s confusing. I want to know what happened. I want to know what I was doing those last few months before the accident.” I want to know why we weren’t getting along, she almost added, but didn’t.
Yet again, she was a chicken.
“If those memories resurface, they might…upset you. Like of the accident.” He peered at her, his dark eyes full of turbulence. “Do you really want to remember? Is that what you want? Aren’t you afraid of risking it? Knowing what happened might be too painful to face.”
“I’m willing to take the risk,” she said firmly. “I can’t live like this. Maybe others can, but I can’t. I want to remember. I want to talk to a psychologist who might know some techniques about coaxing out repressed memories. I know specialists are out there.” She’d talked to her doctor about it last time she went for an appointment, the day that Vince couldn’t go with her because of an important meeting for his work with his family’s accessories business. She loved that her husband was able to be so attentive since she’d come home from the accident, but he did have a job and a career that needed his attention.
Once upon a time, so did she.
And that was another thing. She wanted to go back to the agency. Yes, she had the gash across her cheek and the screwed up arm, but maybe someone could tell her whether she could continue being a client there or not. She needed a glimmer of hope, something to work toward. Even though she told Vince and everyone else she wasn’t interested in plastic surgery or pursuing her modeling career any longer, she’d been untrue to both them and herself.
She missed that career. She’d worked damn hard for it. No way could she let it just slip out of her fingers. Her family needed her.
And she needed that career for her own self-worth.
“If that’s what you want…” His voice drifted and she saw the uneasiness in his eyes, etched all over his features. He didn’t like this, but he wasn’t going to stand in her way either.
Her love for him only grew at the realization.
“It is definitely what I want,” she said firmly, reaching up to plant a quick kiss to his lips. “Now let’s go get something to eat. I’m starving.”
He smiled and kissed her again. “Physical therapy makes you extra hungry, doesn’t it?”
“And extra tired. But not too tired to go out for dinner.” She kissed him again, her lips lingering because he tasted so good. “Food gives me energy for other things too you know.” She wanted him. Again. Always. He only had to smile at her, touch her and she was ready to pull her clothes off and let him take advantage of her.
“Really? You know, you used to be very careful over what you ate,” he said.
She frowned. “Why did you have to remind me? I’ve been enjoying this freedom.”
He laughed. “When you were modeling, you started to worry because, as you told me, you weren’t getting any younger.” He slowly shook his head.
She laughed. “I’m twenty-three.” Amber instantly sobered. That was pretty damn ancient for a model. She’d been at it most of her teens. She remembered being tired too. So tired of keeping up, of knowing there were a million younger, prettier girls behind her wanting to take her place. It was an exhausting business. And she had an exhausting family who constantly wanted something from her.
The only real peace she found were those first few months of marriage with Vince.
“I know.” He slapped her butt and she yelped in surprise. “I like this change. You have more curves for me to caress.” His grin made her heart melt. “See? There was some good that came out of this accident.”
Hmm. She supposed so.
Chapter Ten
“You’re against me doing this, aren’t you?”
Vince paused, turning so he could face his wife straight on. Yes, he was against her seeing a psychologist, but how could he admit that without sounding like a complete ass? “I don’t want you to get hurt,” he said.
I don’t want you to find out the truth.
The thought flitted through his mind and he banished it quickly. Secrets and lies in a marriage were trouble. Look at his cheating mother. When his father died, it was revealed that his sister, Anastasia, wasn’t his but another man’s—their father’s competition in the accessories business. The scandal had initially rocked the Renaldi family to its core…but ultimately brought them even closer together.
His situation with Amber was different. If his father had still been alive when all of this came out, he doubted his parents’ marriage would’ve survived. Just like he was afraid his marriage wouldn’t survive if the truth came out. That Amber was unhappy with him, that she’d threatened divorce. She could blame him for getting hit by the car, by keeping this secret. She could blame him for…
Everything.
He couldn’t risk it. But how could he tell her the truth? He knew his mother was right. He needed to come clean to Amber. How, though?
As Rafe always liked to say, he was screwed.
“‘The truth will set me free.’ Isn’t that how the saying goes?” Amber smiled. She was preparing to leave for her two o’clock appointment with the psychologist and her mood had been light and airy all day. Like a weight had been lifted off of her. She was looking forward to this appointment and all he could do was dread it.
Thank God he wasn’t going with her.
“I want you to be happy for me.” Amber approached him, resting one hand on the center of his chest. Her touch burned through the thin fabric of his shirt and he steeled himself, not wanting to react but failing. His hands itched to reach for her and pull her in closer. “This is a step in the right direction. Progress. My mind is too restless, lacking those details. I want to know.”
He stiffened. “Am I not enough for you? I shared with you some of the details.” But not all. Damn it, he needed to keep his lips clamped shut. “I tried my best to fill in the holes of your memories.” Not good enough, though.
She smiled, her hand drifting down his chest, fingernails scraping, making him shiver. “I know. And I appreciate it. But there are things you’ve admitted that you don’t know. I hate that they’re lost to me.” Amber lifted up on tiptoe and brushed a soft kiss to his lips. “I’ll fill you in on all the details of my appointment when I come home. Will that make you feel better?”
Not really. He was walking on thin ice already, which meant he needed to confess the truth.
And soon.
“Yes. I’d like to know. I worry about you.” He kissed her again, cupping her cheek, holding her to him for a little too long, until she finally had to pull away from his still-seeking lips, her cheeks flushed.
“You’ll make me late,” she chastised.
“You don’t mind, do you?” He smiled, though inside his nerves were at war with each other. His mother—as much as it pained him to admit since he was a grown man capable of making his own decisions, however stupid they were—was right. He was creating more problems by keeping the truth from her.
“When it comes to my husband kissing me, I never mind,” she practically purred before she dropped a lingering kiss on the side of his neck. Her hair tickled his nose and he breathed deep of her sweet, sensual fragrance.
They’d been so happy lately, and he hated to see it end. The last few weeks had been downright magical, reminding him of when they were first together. He’d slowly started going into the Renaldi office and working, a few times even bringing Amber with him. She was friendly to everyone and curious, wanting to know as much about the family business as she could, which pleased him. The Amber of old hadn’t cared much beyond wanting to wear the jewelry that his sister, Stasia, designed.
They were scheduled to go over to Stasia and her husband’s place this evening for dinner, something he both looked forward to and dreaded. Constant questions would make him nervous and considering his sister was beyond curious about everything, he knew what was coming.
All he could do was prepare and hope to God Stasia wouldn’t ask anything that might trigger a repressed memory for Amber.
“Be careful out there,” he murmured, patting her ass just before she stepped out of his embrace. “The car will wait for you.” He’d become overly protective of her, making sure she had a car and driver to take her anywhere she needed to go. She’d protested profusely at first, accusing him of treating her like an invalid. It had slowly dawned on her that he provided the car not only for her safety but for his peace of mind as well.
Vince never wanted to see his wife suffer through an accident like that ever again. The odds were against it, but still. He didn’t like messing with odds. He much preferred ensuring her safety.
She rolled her eyes, though the smile was still on her face. “Yeah, yeah. I feel like he’s my bodyguard.”
The driver he’d hired was huge. His size and stature would intimidate pretty much anyone, which was Vince’s plan. “Ken is your driver and your bodyguard. This is a good thing.”
“It’s an overprotective thing,” she protested.
“A good thing,” he reiterated before he kissed her once more. “Now go. I don’t want you to be late to your first appointment.”
Amber approached him again, circling her good arm around his neck, her face in his. “Thank you for being so supportive of me, Vince. I don’t know where I’d be without you.”
Guilt panged at his heart. “You’re my wife,” he whispered, his throat scratchy. “I would do anything for you.”
“I know,” she whispered back, kissing him one last time before she pulled away. “I would do anything for you too.”
As the door closed behind her, he closed his eyes for a brief moment, breathing deep. He hoped she meant that. He hoped like hell she could forgive him for what he’d kept from her. The plan was to tell her soon.
Very soon.
“So what do you hope to gain from our sessions, Amber?” Dr. Sheila Harris smiled, her glasses pushed so far down her nose that she could peer over them. Her new psychologist was older than her, probably in her late thirties or early forties, with long, wavy brown hair and kind eyes. She had a calm, quiet demeanor about her that Amber found instantly soothing.
“Answers,” Amber answered simply.
A single brow rose. “What sort of answers?”
Amber shrugged and glanced around. The psychologist’s office was clean and neat, the wood furniture solid and the walls a soothing grayish-blue, though her nerves were still a jangle.
This was her first time to ever go to a psychologist, so she had no idea what to say and it felt weird confessing all her feelings to someone she didn’t know. She’d never been the most open person, especially with strangers. That’s why she still marveled over her instant connection with her husband. How quickly they’d come together. How passionate it had been. How passionate it still was…
“Amber?”
She glanced up, caught Dr. Harris watching her with a curious expression. Her mind had drifted, as it was wont to do since the accident. She swore getting hit by a car gave her ADD, a remark Vince never seemed to appreciate her saying, though she really was only joking.
Sometimes.
“I want to know what happened the day of the accident. I want to know what happened the weeks before. From what I can figure, I’ve lost…months.” Amber frowned and slowly shook her head. “I hate that. Losing that much time makes me feel…”
“Go on,” Dr. Harris prompted.
“Sad. Lost. Confused. A little scared,” Amber admitted.
“Your feelings are perfectly understandable. Losing a chunk of your memory must surely feel strange.” The doctor tapped away on her iPad, most likely taking notes. “I’d like to know why you feel fear. Are you afraid something bad happened to you during that time you’ve lost?”
“No, not at all.” Amber shook her head again, her gaze going to the window, snagging on the cloudy skies. It looked like it could rain. She felt as gray and gloomy as the clouds she studied. Why, she wasn’t quite sure. Maybe because she just lied to Dr. Harris. She was scared something might have happened… “Losing my memories makes me feel out of control. Like, how could I have lost time? Weeks? Months? Why can’t I remember? What’s the big deal?”
“Why do you think you can’t remember?” the doctor asked.
“I’ve done some research online and I’m wondering if it’s because my brain is protecting me? The accident was so traumatic and not remembering everything is somewhat of a blessing. At least, I read some articles that said that. So I get it. Really I do. It’s just so damn frustrating.” She leaned back against her chair and closed her eyes, lost in thought just like that. Sometimes…sometimes she had the niggling feeling that Vince was hiding something from her. He never wanted to talk about her memory loss. He never wanted to talk about the car accident and the supposed argument prior to it happening.
“I wonder if my husband isn’t telling me everything he knows,” she blurted, then immediately clamped her lips shut. She shouldn’t have said that.
But it had to be said. If she couldn’t be honest with herself and with Dr. Harris, then who could she tell? She had no one. Her mom wouldn’t understand since she was the queen of denial. Look at how she dealt with her dad.
“Why do you think that?” Dr. Harris asked calmly.
Amber popped her eyes open and looked at her. “He avoids talking
about the accident whenever I try to bring it up.”
“I’m guessing it was a traumatic time for him,” the doctor reminded her, her voice gentle. “Perhaps he was worried he might lose you? Maybe it hurts him to remember that.”
Valid points. And why was the doctor defending Vince? He wasn’t the one who needed therapy. She did. “He doesn’t like telling me what happened before the accident. I ask him, I try to prompt him, and he either changes the subject or glosses over it. His behavior makes me suspicious.”
“But why would he hide it from you?”
“Maybe something terrible happened between us in those months or weeks leading up to the accident.” But what exactly?
“Well, maybe something did.” The doctor paused, as if both of them needed to absorb that statement for a little bit. “You should ask him pointblank if something did happen.”
“You mean I should confront him?” Amber was incredulous. First session in and her psychologist was encouraging her to just go for it.
“In time. When you’re ready. Have you considered that maybe you’re not ready to know what happened between the two of you yet?”
“Of course I have.” And that was why she hadn’t confronted Vince about it. What if he told her something terrible? What if she became angry at him? At the moment, he felt like her complete universe, the only thing that kept her sane. The only person that seemed to really care, who wanted to love her and keep her safe.
She didn’t want to lose him.
Chapter Eleven
“Your face.” Stasia Renaldi Westmore reached out, her fingers delicately running over the thin bandage that still covered Amber’s cheek before letting her hand drop. “It’s not as bad as everyone made it out to be.”
Falling for Her Husband: The Renaldis, Book 3 Page 7