The Wife He Couldn't Forget

“Could you hold the line a moment?” she asked. Muting the phone, she popped her head out the back door. “Xander, could you keep an eye on the bacon for me and finish making the pancakes? I just have a call I need to take.”

“Sure,” he said, moving with his still-careful gait toward the house.

As soon as he was in the kitchen, Olivia went upstairs to their bedroom and sat on the bed.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“No problem,” the lawyer said smoothly. “I’ve had a call from your husband’s lawyers following up on the dissolution order I forwarded to you for your signature the other week. Did you receive it okay?”

“Y-yes, yes, I did. But there’s been a change in circumstances.”

“A change?” the lawyer pressed.

“Xander is back home with me. We...uh...I think it’s safe to say we’re no longer separated.”

There was a long silence at the end of the phone before Olivia heard a faint sigh, followed by, “I see.”

“Can we halt the divorce proceedings?”

“Is this something your husband is agreeable to?”

“Yes, of course.” She crossed her fingers tight and prayed it wasn’t a lie. It couldn’t be. Not now. Not after last night.

“And has he instructed his lawyers in that regard?”

“Um, not yet. You see, he’s been in an accident and unable to communicate with them—up until now, that is,” she amended quickly. “But I’m sure he’ll be in touch soon.”

“This is quite irregular, Mrs. Jackson. Your husband has already signed the forms—”

A sound from behind her made her turn around quickly. Xander stood in the doorway. How long had he been there? How much had he heard? Too much, judging by the look on his face.

“Mr. Clement, I have to go. I’ll call you later and confirm everything.”

Before he could reply, she disconnected the call and dropped the phone onto the tangled sheets of the bed in which they’d made such sweet love last night. Her stomach lurched uncomfortably under Xander’s gaze, and she reached out a hand toward him.

“Xander?”

“You mind telling me what that was about?” His voice was cold, distant and too much like that of the man who had left her two years ago.

“It...it’s complicated.”

She stood up, tugging the edges of her robe closer together—her hands fisting in the silky fabric.

“Then find simple words to explain. I’m sure I’ll grasp them eventually even with my brain injury.”

Sarcasm dripped from his every word, and she was suddenly reminded of the piercing intelligence he’d always exhibited, which she’d ridiculously assumed was impaired with his amnesia.

“Don’t be like that,” she implored. “Please.”

“Then tell me, how should I be? Are you telling me I didn’t overhear you instructing your lawyer to halt divorce proceedings? I’m assuming those would be our divorce proceedings?”

She quivered under the force of his slate-gray glare. “Y-yes,” she admitted reluctantly.

“Divorce proceedings that obviously started before my accident.”

She nodded, her throat squeezing closed on all the words she should have said long before now. She’d been an idiot. She’d had ample opportunity to be honest with him, and she’d held back the truth at every turn. Putting her own needs and desires, her own wish for a second chance, first before everything else. Including the man she loved. A sob rose from deep inside. Had she ruined everything?

Xander pushed a hand through his hair and strode across to the window, looking out at the Auckland harbor and the city’s high-rises. That was his world—the one he had chosen. Not the enclosed space of this house they’d bought and renovated together, not the confines of the land surrounding it. This was supposed to be his sanctuary, not his prison, and she’d made it that by withholding their separation from him.

“How long had we been apart?” he demanded harshly, not even looking at her.

“Just over two years.”

He abruptly turned around to face her, but she couldn’t make out his features as he stood silhouetted against the window.

“And you brought me back here as if nothing had ever happened.”

“Xander, I love you. I’ve always loved you. Of course I brought you home.”

“But it’s not my home anymore, is it?” he asked, his face tightening into a sharp mask of distrust. “That’s why you didn’t have all my clothes, why I didn’t recognize everything...I can’t believe you thought you could pull something like that off. What were you thinking?”