That was certainly not an answer to the question he had asked. But he felt himself relax somewhat in response to the gentle insult.
She could call him anything she wanted, as long as she didn’t change her mind about being married to him, he thought wistfully.
Watching as Liam seemed to draw back into the bed, his face almost as white as the crisp hospital sheets, Anne felt a moment of regret that she hadn’t waited to have this conversation later, when he’d had a little more time for recovery. But she was still so angry with herself—and maybe with him, as well—that he had almost died because of their lack of communication, she couldn’t wait any longer.
Concerned with his pallor, she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Do you need anything? Are you in pain?”
“I’m already having trouble thinking clearly. I’m okay for now.”
“Maybe we should talk about this later,” she said, but he shook his head.
“Now you’re the one saying what I should do for my own good,” he muttered.
She had to smile a little at that. “I guess I am. Sorry.”
His eyes were dark as they searched her face. “You, uh, you said our marriage was a mistake. Maybe you could elaborate on that a little?”
“I said the way we married was a mistake,” she corrected him. “The secret elopement. We—I should have had the courage to take those vows openly, whether anyone else approved or not. I should have told my parents from the beginning that I was seeing you, and that I would continue to do so without their permission. And, we should have spent more time talking and less time playing before we took the step of getting married. We were so intoxicated with the freedom and privacy that we had in London that we let ourselves forget about the real-world issues that would confront us later. Like our busy schedules. And my family.”
“I never meant to try to take you away from your family.”
“I think you did see it as a choice between you and them,” she replied quietly. “Maybe not consciously. But maybe—well, maybe you needed to believe that I would always put you first. I haven’t studied much psychiatry yet, but it isn’t hard to imagine you’d have abandonment issues, considering your childhood. The way your father left you, and then your mother died when you were still so young.”
He flinched, but she continued without letting him respond, “I understood why your own family background would make it hard for you to understand why I remained close to mine, despite my efforts to be independent from them. I just didn’t fully realize you would need to be reassured occasionally that I would never let them keep me away from you. Until we talked with Haley last week, I didn’t even realize you blamed them solely for our breakup in college, despite the quarrels you and I had back then that had little to do with them.”
A hint of color touched his pale cheeks now. He looked almost sheepish when he muttered, “I’m not a child. I don’t need constant reassurance that you aren’t going to leave me.”
She supposed his stinging male ego made him say that, but she knew it wasn’t entirely true. Maybe he didn’t need constant reassurance—but he needed to hear it occasionally. Just as she needed to hear from him that their marriage meant more to him than his career or his celebrity or his resistance to becoming part of her family.
His eyelids were beginning to grow heavy, as if he were fighting to stay alert for this ill-timed conversation. “Annie?”
She leaned closer. “Yes?”
“You were right, you know. I’m not all that brave. I’ve been afraid of a lot of things. I was afraid your parents—or someone else—would take you away from me. I was afraid of trying to fit into your overachieving and overinvolved family. I was afraid of finishing the book and having no other excuse to stay with you—and afraid it will bomb once it’s published. And I was so damned afraid that if I left this time, we’d have used up all our chances to make this work out between us.”
She didn’t know how much of that confession had been fueled by the meds dripping through his IV tube, but there was no mistaking the sincerity of his words.
She laid her hand against his face, speaking very clearly. “I love you, Liam. I always have. I always will.”
He reached out to take her hand, and though his grip was still weak enough to melt her heart, his voice was steady. “I love you, too. And I don’t care if the whole world knows it.”
“That’s good,” she said, blinking back a mist of tears. “I was told a reporter called the hospital this morning to find out if you’re really a patient here. I don’t know how the news got out, but it seems that it has. The hospital staff will keep your case confidential, but some tidbits will probably leak out, anyway.”
He looked unfazed by that revelation. “I’ll call my agent and my publicist later. They’ll handle it.”
“Whatever you think best.”
“Annie—” His words were beginning to slur a little, and his eyelids looked heavier.
“Get some rest, Liam. We can talk more later. We have plenty of time.” They would make the time, she promised herself. Whatever it took.
He closed his eyes, then pushed them open again to ask, “Annie—if we weren’t already married, and I asked you again now…?”
She smiled, knowing the medications were making him a little loopy, but answering the fanciful question, anyway. “I would say yes, Liam. Always. Forever.”
It seemed to satisfy him. Still holding her hand, he closed his eyes. “Me, too. Love you.”
She leaned over to brush a tender kiss across his forehead. “I love you, too, Liam.”