He muttered something under his breath, and she strained to hear it—her blood running cold in her veins as she made out the words.
“Something’s not right. Something’s missing.”
His head swiveled from side to side. Even though his eyes were open, she knew he was still asleep.
“Everything’s all right, Xander. Come back to bed,” she urged gently and took his hand to lead him back to their room.
At first he resisted, repeating the words again, but then she felt his body ease and he followed her back down the hall and into their bed. She lay on the mattress, tension holding her body in its grip as Xander slid deeply back into a restful sleep. She didn’t know how long it was before she managed to drift off herself. All she did know was that the writing was on the wall.
While his conscious memory was fractured and had wiped the slate clean of all memories of their son, his subconscious was another matter entirely. Deep down he knew something was out of sync with their life, which begged the question: How much longer did she have before he realized exactly what it was?
Nine
Xander watched through the studio’s French doors as Olivia worked, lost in concentration and in the composition of another piece for her exhibition. He loved observing her when she was unaware of his scrutiny. It gave him a chance to see her as she really was and not the face she projected to him each morning and through each day.
Something was obviously worrying her—deeply, he suspected—but she was a master at hiding how she felt about things. When they’d first met, he’d actually admired that about her, had recognized her resilience and strength and found them incredibly appealing. Olivia never showed weakness or dependency, but he’d learned that in itself wasn’t necessarily a good thing. He knew she had to feel weakness at times—she just refused to show it. Refused to let him help. Marriage was about sharing those loads. Meeting problems head-on, together.
So what was playing on her mind now and how on earth would he get her to share it with him? Was it something to do with the envelope that had been delivered from those lawyers a couple of weeks ago? The envelope that had magically disappeared and that she hadn’t discussed at all? He’d searched the name of the firm online and discovered that they were specialists in divorce and relationship property laws. The knowledge had left him with more questions than answers.
Was there something wrong in their marriage that she couldn’t bring herself to discuss? Was this existence they now shared just some facade for a crueler reality? Somehow he had to find out. From the moment he’d seen her at his bedside at the hospital, he’d been assailed with a complex mix of disconnection and rightness. Logically he knew a lot of it could be put down to the head injury he’d sustained and the amnesia, but a little voice kept telling him that there was more he should know. Something vitally important.
But if it was so important, why then was Olivia holding back? He could sense it in her. The words that she bit off on occasion, the sudden sad expression in her eyes when she thought he wasn’t looking. Even the furrows in her brow, such as she had right now, implied she was worried about something.
He would give her another few days and then he’d push her to find out what it was. Maybe the missing information was the key to his memory; maybe it wasn’t. One thing he knew for certain, he’d be stuck in this limbo forever if he didn’t get to the bottom of it.
He moved toward the studio doors. Olivia must have seen him because she turned to face him, her features composed in a welcoming smile that didn’t quite reach those beautiful blue eyes of hers. She had some paint in her hair, another proof of her distraction. Sure, she was never immaculately tidy and controlled when she worked, but today she looked pressured, distracted even. Until she put on her face for him, that was.
“It’s getting late,” Xander said as Olivia put down her brush. “You should call it a day.”
“I’m inclined to agree with you,” she admitted, stretching out her shoulders and shaking out her hands. “Nothing’s going right today.”
“Clean up and come inside the house. I have a surprise for you.”
“A surprise?”
Her eyes sparkled with interest, and he smiled in response.
“Don’t get your hopes up too high. It’s nothing spectacular. I’ll see you back at the house. Five minutes, no more,” he cautioned.
“I’ll be there,” she promised.
True to her word, on his allotted deadline he heard the back door open and then her footsteps coming toward the kitchen.