The Wife He Couldn't Forget

“He doesn’t know, does he?”

“Know?” Olivia remained deliberately evasive.

“About you two. About your divorce. About Park—”

“He knows that we’re separated and we’re working through that. The doctors have said not to try and force anything.”

“Olivia...”

“No.” Olivia put up a hand as if she could physically stop the younger woman from doing anything she wanted to. “If his memory comes back, it will do so in its own good time.”

“But what about when he comes back to work? Everyone there knows about his past. People will talk to him.”

“But he’s not fit to return to work yet anyway, so that’s a bridge Xander and I will cross when we get to it.”

Rachelle looked at her in disbelief. “I can’t believe you’re lying to him like this.”

“I’m not lying,” Olivia replied emphatically. But I know I’m not exactly telling him the truth, either. “Look I think it would be best if you leave. I’ll take care of the plants before we go. You can leave your key with me.”

Rachelle shook her head. “No. Xander gave me this key and if I give it back to anyone, it’ll be to him.”

Olivia didn’t say anything, not wanting to push the issue and definitely not wanting to explore the idea of why Xander would give one of his colleagues a key to his apartment.

“You’re going to have to tell him sometime,” Rachelle continued. “If you don’t, I will. He deserves to know. You can’t just reclaim him like a lost puppy. He left you, Olivia. He had his reasons.”

A sound down the hallway made both women turn and look. Xander—something was wrong, Olivia thought and quickly headed in his direction.

* * *

Xander stood at the basin in the bathroom, his hands gripping the white porcelain edge in a white-knuckled grip. A headache assailed him in ever-increasing waves. He had to lie down, to sleep, but he couldn’t do that here. This place was all wrong. As angry as he was with Olivia, he needed her right now—needed to go back to their home. He must have called out, made some noise or something, because she was suddenly at his side, concern pulling her brows into a straight line and clouding her eyes.

“Another headache? Here,” she said, rummaging through her handbag. “I brought some of your painkillers, just in case.”

She pressed two tablets into his palm and quickly filled the water glass on the vanity with water and handed it to him.

He knocked the pills back with a grimace. “Take me back to the house, please.”

“You don’t want to take a rest here?”

He shook his head and immediately regretted it as spears of pain pushed behind his eyes. “Just get me out of here.”

She slid a slender arm around his waist and tucked herself under his shoulder to support him. Slowly they made their way out of the room and down the hall. Rachelle still stood in the living room. He caught a glimpse of the shock on her face.

“I have to take him home,” Olivia said with a proprietary note in her voice that even he, in his incapacitated state, didn’t miss. “Please make sure you lock up behind you.”

“Do you need me to help?” the other woman asked, stepping to his other side.

“We can manage,” Olivia replied firmly and guided him to the door.

“Xander, I hope you’re better soon. We miss you at the office...I miss you,” Rachelle called out as they left the apartment.

The door swung closed behind them, and Xander winced again as it slammed. They made it down to the car and Olivia adjusted his seat back a little so he could recline and close his eyes. Throughout the drive back to Devonport his mind continued to whirl around the stabs of pain that continued to probe his skull.

He’d thought the apartment would bring him answers. Instead it had only brought him more questions. Nothing had felt familiar or right or as if it truly belonged to him. Not the furnishings, not the clothes in the wardrobe he’d gotten a glimpse of before heading into the bathroom—not even the cups and saucers he’d seen in the kitchen cupboards when he’d looked there.

And then there was Rachelle. She’d been so familiar with him, as if they were far more intimately acquainted than mere work colleagues. Had he moved on from his relationship with Olivia so quickly? It seemed almost impossible to believe. Yes, Rachelle was attractive—if you liked petite brunettes with perfect proportions. But he had a hankering for slender redheads, one in particular—even if she had been holding out on him about them living apart.

But Rachelle. He’d recognized her. She was a part of his past, although he couldn’t remember all of it. She was deeply familiar to him, more so than could be accounted for with his memories from six years prior. Did that explain why, when she’d come into the apartment, she’d gone straightaway to hug him and kiss him? The fact that her kiss had landed on his cheek had been a result of him moving slightly at the last minute; otherwise he knew she’d have planted one right on his lips. Judging by Olivia’s reaction to the other woman, he doubted very much that she’d have been pleased about that happening.