The Wife He Couldn't Forget

She added the last with a giggle that saw Xander reach for her and wrap her tightly in his arms. “I’ve missed that sound,” he said before tickling her. “But I’m afraid I’m going to have to punish you for that comment.”

By the time she’d managed to extricate herself from his hold she was weak with laughter and it felt good. She could almost believe that everything was going to be okay after all.

* * *

The next morning, Xander moped around the house at a complete loss for what to do with himself that he knew was at odds with his old self. Olivia had gone out to do some shopping while he was busy with the physical therapist. She’d been gone several hours now. Since he was alone in the house, he decided to use the time for some exploring. He went through each room, starting downstairs, poking through the kitchen cupboards and then examining every item in the living room, dining room and formal lounge. Some things spoke to him; others held their silence. No matter what, he felt as if something vital was missing, and he hated it. He wanted his life back. Hell, he wanted himself back.

On a more positive note, the weakness that had plagued him since awakening from the coma was receding, and his physical therapist was extremely pleased with his progress to date. Olivia had suggested turning the tool room, which only had access from outside on the ground floor, into a home gym. With his physical therapist’s suggestions it had been outfitted so that he could keep up his program every single day without fail.

Pushing himself felt good but wasn’t without its own problems. It often left him shaking and struggling to stay upright under the weight of yet another of those wretched headaches.

He picked up a silver-framed photo that had been taken of him and Olivia on their wedding day, and he felt a strong tug of desire as he studied her face and the creamy curve of her shoulders, exposed by the strapless figure-hugging beaded gown she’d worn. At least that continued to remain the same, he thought as he replaced the picture on its shelf. The bond between them was as strong as ever. She’d been of immeasurable support to him, even if she was still shy about making love. Those barriers would come down eventually. Their relationship had always been too well-founded and their attraction too strong to allow something like his brain injury to keep them apart for very long.

The sound of footsteps coming up the front path caught his attention. A visitor? They’d had no one since he’d come home from hospital. He’d had little to no contact with anyone else, even his mother, who lived in the far north. He’d called her once, to tell her he’d been released from hospital, but their conversation had been as short as it always was. He was fine, she was fine—end of conversation. The prospect of a fresh face was instantly appealing, and he was at the front door and ready to open it before the doorbell could even be rung. He felt his face drop as he recognized the uniform of the courier standing with his finger poised to press the bell.

“Package for Mrs. Olivia Jackson. Could you sign for me, please?”

The courier handed his electronic device and stylus over to Xander for his signature, then passed Xander the large flat envelope he’d had tucked under his arm. With a cheery “Thanks” and a wave, he was gone.

Xander slowly closed the front door and turned the envelope over in his hands. “Oxford Clement & Gurney” was printed on the envelope. Family law specialists. A frown furrowed his brow as he stared at the black print on the white background. He repeated the name of the firm out loud, knowing that there was something about it that was familiar. But no matter how hard he reached for the key in his mind to open that particular door, it remained firmly closed and out of reach.

Family law specialists—what on earth would Olivia be needing them for? The envelope was poorly sealed, just a slip of tape holding it down in the center of the flap. One small tug would be all it took to open it and check the contents inside. Maybe he’d find something that would fill in some of the gaps in his Swiss cheese for brains. But what if he didn’t like what he discovered? And how would he explain to Olivia that he’d been prying in her personal mail? There was no question it was addressed to her and not to him.

Maybe something had been going wrong in their marriage before his accident. Maybe things weren’t as he remembered and that was why Olivia remained cagey about the past six years. He hadn’t pressed her too hard for any of it, and he now wondered if that wasn’t in self-preservation. Were there things he really didn’t want to know? Things he was actively suppressing?

The doctors said there was no permanent damage to his brain from the accident and only time would tell if the amnesia would be permanent or not. It was vague and frustrating as hell to know that he had no timeline to full recovery. But perhaps he didn’t want to remember. If things hadn’t been good between him and Olivia, to the extent that she’d been talking to lawyers, then could he have chosen to forget?