Forget Us Not

by Melissa Shirley

  CHAPTER 7

  Makenzie

  As I lie in bed watching the door and listening for his footfalls on the steps, I can’t help but wonder why I would tell my husband not to kiss me. Especially since kissing him is all I’ve been able to think of for the last hour while my mother fussed over my bath and helped me back into bed. I also ponder what type of marriage we must have if things have reached a point of such breakdown. I can’t reconcile the attraction I feel with what I’ve discovered about our relationship so far.

  You threw a pot at me once. Our disputes had escalated to violence? I can’t imagine anything making me so angry that I would resort to throwing kitchenware at him. And six months without sex? With him?

  One thought slides into the next, and I wonder how Sam reacted to that. What if he went somewhere else, strayed? Six months?

  “What sad thoughts could make that pretty face so unhappy?” He’s standing in the doorway, his hair towel-dried and smoothed back. A single bead of water glides down his chest, and I can’t tear my gaze away from it as it inches lower.

  When it disappears, I am left looking at him, wondering how to get rid of the doubts that have tarnished my trust. The only thing I can do is ask and weigh his response with what I know for certain. “Why did I throw a pot at you?”

  “Because you were angry.”

  “At you?”

  He stares down at his hands then sits on the bed beside me and takes my hand in his. “It’s been a rough few days. There’s no need to rehash this. I’m fine. The pot is fine. No harm done.”

  “I threw a pot at my husband. What does that make me?”

  “Passionate? Emotional?” He narrows his eyes and grins. “The things a man dreams about when he picks a wife.”

  “You dream of assault by kitchenware?” I’m more than a little worried he’s hiding something from me.

  His shrug doesn’t do anything to better my opinion of myself.

  “Sam, what were we fighting over?”

  “It was a long time ago, and I would never have brought it up if I knew it would bother you so much.” He moves to sit beside me, to slip his hand down my arm. Everywhere he touches prickles in the heat left behind.

  He leans his forehead against mine. “Let’s get you well. We can worry about everything else later.”

  I nod because I can’t deny him. And though the temptation is choking me, I don’t want to argue about whatever he’s keeping from me.

  “Now, I believe you asked me a favor.” He pulls back a fraction and cocks his head to the side. My gaze follows the path of his tongue along his lips while he tucks some stray hairs behind my ear. “I’m nervous.” His honesty sends tiny shivers along my arms.

  “It’s just a kiss, right?” How could I not have loved someone who is nervous about kissing me?

  “I haven’t done this in a long time.”

  “I don’t think it’s the kind of thing you forget.” His lips are so close. “Just like riding a bike. Except you don’t have to wear a helmet, and you probably won’t skin your knees.”

  His mouth tilts at the corners then straightens into a tight line as he runs his finger along my eyebrow. “Last time I did this, you decided you didn’t ever want me to do it again.”

  I move out of his grasp. “Maybe I should do it then?” If he doesn’t kiss me soon, I might burst into flames.

  “I’m the guy.”

  “It’s the new millennium, sweetheart. Girls are allowed to do the kissing if we want.” There’s only so much waiting I’m willing to do, and the clock isn’t ticking in his favor.

  “I’ll do it.” His tongue glides along his lips again, and I swallow back a sigh.

  “Well, then Sam, do you need time to work up some kind of game plan? Or are you just gonna go for it?”

  He takes my face between his hands. “I think I’ll just go for it.” At first, his lips only brush across mine, tentative and slow, as if there isn’t an urgency in me about to combust. I tangle my fingers in his hair, pull him to me, as close as I can get him, but he’s teasing me, giving me a taste then retreating. It’s powerful and so tantalizing I can barely breathe. Finally, after both corners of my mouth have been kissed and he has me flat on my back, he moves in, and I hold him close to me with my arms around his neck.

  I moan into his mouth, so he knows how much I like the caress of his tongue and how desperate I am for him to keep doing it. What started as softly as a whisper is now rippling through me, stealing my breath. He deepens the kiss, holds me tighter, pushes against me. I need him. Now.

  With half his body covering mine, he lifts the hem of my shirt and trails gentle fingers over my stomach, swirling small circles over my skin. I can’t focus on anything other than the sensations of his touch, his tongue. He traces the waistband of my shorts before running his hands from one hip bone to the other. Each skim of his fingers is electric, shocking with pleasure. I can’t be still.

  I’m captured in his spell, enchanted enough to never want this moment to end. His touch alternates between gentle and inflamed, soft and frantic, and his breath is as rapid and shallow as mine. I want to touch him, but I am trapped by his body, held in place while his mouth ravages mine.

  I want all of him and finally tear away. “Please, Sam. Please.”

  He nibbles on my lip for a second before kissing me again, and I’m gone, writhing, moaning into his mouth, hoping it never ends, but he’s holding back. He obviously wants this, but he keeps his hands in PG13 land.

  When he pulls back, he buries his head in the curve of my neck. “I’m sorry.”

  “Then don’t stop.”

  He drops back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “I shouldn’t be”—he closes his eyes and covers them with his arm—“pushing you.”

  I sit up and shove his forearm away. “I don’t know who I used to be, but I don’t think I’m the kind of person who would let you do anything you want simply because you want to, especially if it goes against what I want.” I press a kiss against his neck and lick my lips to savor his taste. “Not only did I want you, I want you still. More even.”

  I’m not ashamed. He’s my husband. I might not remember everything, but from what I’ve seen, there’s a lot about him to love, and I trust him. I feel connected to him in a way I can’t explain, but I know is true.

  CHAPTER 8

  SAM

  This is the wife I’ve always wanted her to be—that I thought she was when I married her. She’s not holding anything back.

  It’s not to say that I didn’t love her before the accident. I loved her so much it caused me physical pain when we fought. But now, this gentler, calmer form of her…I will do whatever it takes to make her happy, to keep her smiling and looking at me without the contempt she had before the accident.

  She’s lying with her head on my chest, her arm thrown over my stomach, and the unwrapped pinky finger of her other hand gliding back and forth over my ribs. If I could capture this minute and hold her in it with me forever, I would.

  Once she remembers what has and hasn’t been between us, I suspect I’ll lose her once more, and my stomach whips. I should distance myself—build a wall she can’t break down—for my own protection. But not tonight. Tonight, I’m going to hang on, preserve my own memory of what we have. My hold tightens around her.

  “What’s wrong?” Her voice is softened by fatigue.

  “Nothing.” I can’t count it as a lie. Tonight, she’s mine, and I’m hers. Tomorrow, I can figure out the rest.

  ***

  MAKENZIE

  I might not know much about my husband, but I feel him pulling away. And for the life of me, I don’t know why. As soon as he thought I fell asleep, he turned away, disentangling my body from his. I struggled as much as a sleeping person can without being caught, but I didn’t make it easy, and I’m not sorry. I only wish he hadn’t left me there to sleep alone.

  He’s my comfort in this strange new life. The doctor said the memory loss is likely temporary,
and I have no choice but to believe him. Sam does, too, and I think that’s why he’s pulling away. Something about our lives together before the accident stands between us, and I need to know what it is.

  The things I know for certain don’t add up to very much. First, I was not a nice person. But what if he wasn’t either? Maybe all I’m seeing right now is good-behavior Sam. No, that isn’t right. It comes too easy. Too natural. I fought my family to be with him. That either speaks to his character or mine. Maybe both. But something happened, and until I figure out what it is, how can we move forward? And how do I know the things I’m feeling are all real? Well, this is getting me nowhere fast. He says he loves me. For now, that has to be enough. At least until I can remember.

  Throwing back the covers, I twist to the side. It takes a few surges of effort before I can lift my injured leg to the side and put weight on it, but I hobble to the closet. The hinges creak as they swivel open, and I throw a glance over my shoulder. I roll my eyes at my own foolishness. It’s my house. If I want to check out the closet, I shouldn’t worry he’ll be upset. Why would he be upset anyway?

  I flick on the light and stand back. Holy Moses. An entire wall is lined with a color-coordinated rainbow of shoes from floor to ceiling. The opposite wall is nothing but clothes.

  Apparently I’m an addict, and Jimmy Choos are my crack cocaine. Thousands and thousands of dollars of dresses, shirts, pantsuits, skirts, and accessories fill poles and cubby holes. My breath catches on a much too loud, “Oh my God!”

  Feet hit the floor below me and charge up the steps causing an echo bouncing off the loft walls. The bedroom door flings open, and Sam stands large in its place. “What are you doing up?”

  “You left. I got bored.”

  In five long strides, he is standing beside me. “You should be in bed.”

  I shrug. “So should you. It didn’t stop you.”

  “I can’t sleep. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

  Because my leg is throbbing, I lean back against the wall and spare it my full weight. “Sam, I don’t want there to be lies between us. I don’t know if there were before, I only know the little bits you tell me, but I want us to be honest with each other.” He looks down at his feet, but nods. “But before we get into why you feel like you need to be away from me, I have to know. Are these all mine?” As I wave it toward the shelves, I misjudge my cast, and it smacks into a few pairs, toppling them into a pile on the floor.

  Sam lifts me as though I weigh nothing and deposits me on the bed. “All yours.”

  I close my eyes and a picture of him red-faced and angry floats before my mind’s eye. “This is why I threw a pot at you, isn’t it? We were fighting over the money I spend?” He doesn’t really have to answer. I already know. “Please, tell me you have made serious mistakes in this relationship, too. Given me a reason to be that way.”

  His half-smile dimples his cheek. “Of course.”

  “Like what?” This isn’t a challenge. I really need to know.

  He’s leaning on the hand he has braced on the opposite side of my body. His gaze is deep, as though he’s trying to see inside my mind for an answer that will shut me up and help me let this go. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Kenz. Our marriage was hard sometimes for reasons both in and out of our control. But for now, can’t we just enjoy this? Being together? Being happy?”

  “No, Sam. Not if you won’t tell me what’s bothering you, and I don’t have even the foggiest idea what’s bothering me.” He won’t look at me. Oh, fine. “I only know one thing with a hundred percent certainty.” He cocks a brow, and I mirror the expression. “We’re having a yard sale. If I live to be a hundred and ten, I’ll never be able to wear all those clothes and shoes. We can use the money to redo the house or pay some bills.”

  “I can pay the bills.” Uh-oh. I might have hit a nerve.

  “I didn’t mean to imply you couldn’t.” What the hell do I mean? “I just meant you’ve been taking care of me, and now maybe I can earn my keep and give you something back.”

  “I don’t think you should do anything hasty until you get your memory back.”

  His expression, or more the way he won’t meet my gaze head-on, tells me what I need to know. “Afraid the old me is going to be pissed off at the new me?” It’s quite laughable that I would care about a bunch of clothes I’ll never wear.

  “Something like that.” The words come soft but clipped.

  I shake my head and run a finger down his bare chest. “No. I think it’s more than that. I think you’re afraid I’ll remember who I am and blame you.” Jesus. How truly bad I must have been to inspire this kind of reaction in such a big person.

  I can tell he’s weighing my words by the hard stare at the hand holding him up when he nods. “Maybe.”

  “Pot tossing aside, am I really someone to be so feared?”

  He sighs and runs his hand through his long hair. “Until now, I’ve only ever been scared I’ll lose you. Now I’m scared we’ll end up back where we were.” That just about says it all.

  CHAPTER 9

  SAM

  Fear is a strange thing. To speak of it doesn’t greatly increase my masculinity, but if she wants to know, wants to tear down the barrier of lies between us, I have no choice. Before I can speak, she puts a hand on each of my shoulders, points her eyes at mine, and nods.

  “I’ll try to be less scary.” She’s resolute but smiling.

  “I’ll try to be less chickenshit.”

  “Well, then it sounds like we’ve reached an impasse until we each see how the other moves in our new direction.” She smiles, and it’s like the sun has come to shine in our bedroom. I’m either blessed or cursed by the sheer force of how much I love this woman. “Sam, if my memory comes back and I’m different, please know it isn’t how I want to be.”

  And because I feel I owe her something… “Makenzie, if your memory comes back and I’m not who you want me to be, please know I’ll love you for the rest of my life.”

  “If I was horrible to you, why did you stay with me?”

  This is a question it seems she’s never going to tire of asking. “Well, it’s a lot of things. First, not every minute with us was bad. I can’t count the number of nights we’ve stayed up till dawn talking. Not about anything important, just about silly things we used to do, and movies and stuff like that. Sometimes when you look at me, I can see forever, and I know you’re the person I’m meant to spend my life with.” Her eyes are kind, but I know my next words will strain us, but to say them is to face them. There’s not much point in hiding the truth. “Whether we make it another hundred years or we wake up tomorrow with your memory restored and decide to split up, you’re my best friend. Friends test each other sometimes. And marriages are hard when everyone is happy, and lately, we weren’t happy. So, I hung in there because I figured our friendship would help us get through these rough patches.”

  “If you had to guess…is your money on a hundred years or…less?”

  God, I want the hundred years more than I’ve ever wanted anything. I always have, no matter how bad we fought. I’ll fight for her no matter what it takes, but if she isn’t willing to join the struggle for our relationship, we won’t last. Unfortunately, I have no reason to believe once she gets her memory back she’ll be so inclined. “There’s nothing I won’t do to try to convince you to stay with me. I decided that at the hospital, but if the time comes and there’s nothing more to be done, and you can’t love me the way you once did, I won’t ask you to be unhappy. It would be worse to see you that way than to lose you.”

  “Why was I so unhappy before?”

  I can’t face any more truth right now. Instead, I smile. “I’d prefer to discuss my faults only after I’ve had a good night’s sleep.”

  She scoots toward the middle of the bed and turns on her side to pat the open space beside her—the opposite side I’d been lying on earlier.

  As though I have given her a curious look—which I
haven’t—she blanks the expression from her face. “Well, I thought maybe I took your side of the bed earlier and that’s why you went downstairs. I want you to stay this time, so I thought we could try letting you sleep on this side.”

  “I actually sleep on the other side.” With her frown, her eyes darken until all I can see is black. “But maybe it’s time we changed some things.” Without another word, I slide in next to her, and as though she doesn’t even consider doing otherwise, she cuddles in the crook of my arm, turning her body so we are spooned into a very small space on a very large bed.

  She presses a kiss into the bend of my elbow and reaches behind her to nudge my other arm around her waist. “Goodnight, Sam.”

  I know she’s wrapped me around her to prevent me from leaving again, and I can’t think of anywhere else I want to be.

  CHAPTER 10

  Makenzie

  It took ten minutes…I would have expected a ceremony that bound me to another person for the rest of my life to take a bit longer, but…ten minutes. I’m no longer Makenzie Carr, daughter of William and Ellen Carr. I have taken vows to become Mrs. Makenzie Camden.

  I wanted Sam from the first moment I saw him. Tall and blonde, muscular and handsome, he had something that made all the girls flock to him, and I got him—the big prize at the end of a long game.

  It took three dates before he even tried to kiss me. And three more before we fell into bed. He was gentle and kind and…proportionate. We spent the night in his bed talking until the sun came up. He told me his dreams, and I pretended to care, though, at that moment, all I could think of was how alive I felt there with him. I gave him the encouraging nods, oohed and ahhed in all the right spots until he was convinced I was his soulmate. He made everything from that moment on about me, making me happy, buying me things, showing me off. And if I didn’t love him before, that was enough to convince me I did after.