The Wife He Couldn't Forget

“I’m okay,” she insisted, focusing on her every step even as her mind whirled in circles.

“About those kids?” Xander started. “I think we should do something about that as soon as we can. Life’s too short and too precious to waste. If my car wreck has taught me nothing else, it has taught me that. I’d like us to start trying.”

Outside the cottage Olivia hesitated. “Are you sure about that, Xander? You’ve only just begun your recovery. Do you really think having children right away is a good idea?”

She didn’t even know if she wanted another baby, ever. Was her heart strong enough to take that risk? Loving Xander was one thing, and she’d lost him figuratively the day he’d left their home and she’d almost lost him literally in the wreck that had stolen his memories.

“Aren’t you the one who usually accuses me of putting things off too long? Why the change of heart? Talk to me, Livvy.”

“Xander, can’t we just wait until you’re better? You’ve never wanted to rush into this before.”

“But what if I never get better? What if my memory doesn’t return and those years stay locked away forever?”

There was a part of her that wanted that to happen. But Olivia knew that wouldn’t be fair to him or to her. If they were to truly make this marriage work, there couldn’t be any secrets between them. Even so, she couldn’t bring herself to raise the subject of their separation or the tragedy that had triggered it with him just yet. Not when she was still unsure how he would react.

She’d learned as a child that it was best not to face the pain of loss—it was far better to tuck it away where it couldn’t be felt. Her father had taught her that. After her mother had died, her dad had told Olivia that looking after “the wee ones,” as he’d called her siblings, was up to her now. And then he’d thrown himself into his farm work with a single-mindedness that didn’t allow for grieving.

Whenever Olivia had felt the overwhelming loss of her mother, she’d just buttoned it down and turned to the work she had at hand—whether it was her schoolwork or helping her siblings with theirs. And there were always chores to do around the farm and the house. Following her father’s staunch example, she’d never allowed herself time to think about her loss or the pain she felt. And that’s exactly how she’d coped after Parker’s death.

“Livvy?” Xander prompted.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” she said stoically. “Right now the things that matter are getting you strong again and being happy together. And if having you here, sharing my space, means I can stop you from reaching the breaking point like you did earlier today, then that’s all to the good.”

“And vice versa,” he reiterated, lifting a finger to trace the circles she knew were under her eyes. “You work too hard yourself.”

She cracked a wry smile. “Pot, meet kettle.”

Xander laughed, and Olivia felt some of the weight that had settled in her heart ease a little. They’d discuss the issue of children later. Much later. Which reminded her, she needed to go back on the Pill.

Inside the cottage they debated the best way to set up the bedroom to serve Xander’s needs. She’d have to contact a contractor to run the separate phone line Xander had to his office upstairs, to the cottage, as well. The Wi-Fi proved patchy, so that was another thing to be looked into. Privately she was relieved that his access to the internet would be a little restricted here initially. What if he took it into his head to do a search on himself or her? There was bound to be some archived newspaper article that would spring up with the details of the speeding driver who had killed their son and their pet with one careless act. Again Olivia accepted that she’d have to tell him about that dreadful day at some stage, but as long as she could put it off, she would.

“How are we going to get my desk in here?” Xander asked as they surveyed the space. “I’d like it under the window, but I doubt we’ll be able to manhandle it between the two of us.”

“Wouldn’t you rather get a new desk?” Olivia asked hopefully.

She hated the behemoth he’d insisted on installing upstairs in the early days of their marriage. It had been their only bone of contention back then.

“Don’t think I don’t remember how much you dislike my desk. But I love it, and if I’m moving in here, it’s moving with me,” Xander said with mock severity.

Olivia sighed theatrically. “Well, if you insist. Mrs. Ackerman next door has a couple of university students boarding with her. They might like to earn a few extra dollars manhandling it down the stairs and into here. With any luck, they might even drop it.”