could feel him mentally withdrawing from her and it made her want to hold on to him all the harder. The medical team had warned her that Xander would experience mood swings. It was all part and parcel of what he’d been through and what his brain was doing to heal itself. She gave him one more squeeze and then let him go.
“Shall we eat breakfast out on the patio?” she asked as brightly as she could. “Why don’t you pour our coffees, and then maybe you could set the table out there for me while I finish making breakfast.”
Without waiting for a response, she busied herself getting place mats and cutlery and putting them on a large wooden tray with raised edges so that if he faltered nothing would slide off. She couldn’t mollycoddle him all the time, but no one said she couldn’t try to make things easier for him, either. She went ahead and opened the doors that led onto the patio, ensuring that the way was clear for him with nothing to trip over.
“There, I’ll be out in a minute or two,” she said after he’d filled both mugs with coffee. He seemed to hesitate. “Something the matter, Xander?”
“I didn’t notice yesterday if you still take milk or not.”
His voice was flat, with an air of defeat she’d never heard from him before. Not even after Parker died.
“I do, thanks.”
She turned around to the stove and poured the beaten eggs into the pan rather than let him see the pity that she knew would be on her face. As she stirred the egg in the pan, she listened, feeling her entire body relax when he picked up the tray and slowly began to move out of the kitchen. When the eggs were almost done, she sprinkled in some chopped chives from her herb garden and stirred the egg mixture one last time before loading the steaming mix onto warmed plates. She garnished the egg with some dots of sour cream, another sprinkle of chives and some cracked pepper, then added the smoked salmon shavings on the side. Satisfied the meal looked suitably appealing, she carried the plates out to the patio.
Xander was standing on the edge of the pavers, staring at the cherry blossom tree he’d planted when they moved in.
“It’s grown, hasn’t it?” Olivia remarked as she put the plates down on the table. “The tree. Do you remember the day we planted it?”
“Yeah, I do. It was a good day,” he said simply.
His words didn’t do justice to the fun they’d had completing the raised brick bed and then filling it with barrow loads of the soil and compost that had been delivered. After they’d planted the tree, they’d celebrated with a bottle of imported champagne and a picnic on the grass. Then, later, made love long into the night.
“Come and have breakfast before it gets cold,” Olivia said, her voice suddenly thick with emotion.
They’d made so many plans for the garden that day, some of which they’d undertaken before their marriage fell apart. She hadn’t had the time or the energy to tackle the jobs they’d left undone on her own. In fact, she’d even debated keeping the house at all. Together with the separate one-bedroom cottage on the other side of the patio, where she had her studio, the property was far too big for one person alone.
But now he was home again, the place already felt better. As if a missing link had been slotted back in where it belonged. She pasted a smile on her face and took a sip of her coffee.
Xander desultorily applied himself to his plate of eggs.
“Is it not to your liking?” Olivia asked.
“It’s good,” he replied, taking another bite. “I don’t feel hungry anymore, that’s all.”
“Are you hurting? They said you’d have headaches. Do you want me to get your painkillers?”
“Livvy, please! Stop fussing,” he snapped before throwing down his fork and pushing up from his seat.
Olivia watched as he walked past the garden and out onto the lawn. His body was rigid, and he stood with his hands on his hips, feet braced slightly apart, as if he was challenging some invisible force in front of him.
She stared down at her plate and pushed her breakfast around with her fork, her own appetite also dwindling as the enormity of what she’d done began to hit home. He wasn’t a man to be pushed or manipulated; she’d learned that years ago. She’d made decisions before that had angered him. Like the day she brought Bozo home from the pound without discussing it with him first. And the day she stopped taking her birth control.
A shadow hovered over her, blocking the light. Xander’s hand, warm and strong and achingly familiar, settled on her shoulder.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”
She placed a hand on top of his. “It’s okay. I guess I am fussing. I’ll try to keep a lid on it. It’s just that I love you so much, Xander. Hearing about your accident terrified me. Thinking that I could have lost you...” Her voice choked up again.
“Oh, Livvy. What are we going to do?” he said wearily, wiping a stray tear from her cheek with his thumb.
She shook her head slightly. “I don’t know. Just take one day at a time, I guess.”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “I guess that’s all we can do.”
He sat back down at the table and finished his breakfast. Afterward, he looked weary, as if every muscle in his body was dragging. Olivia gestured to the hammock she’d only recently strung up beneath the covered rafters.
“You want to test-drive the hammock for me while I tidy up?”
“Still fussing, Livvy,” he said, but it came with a smile. “But yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”
She gave him a small smile in return and gathered up their things to load the tray he’d brought out earlier.
“Do you want another coffee?” she asked.
“Maybe later, okay?”
She nodded and went back inside. After she’d stacked the dishwasher she intended to tackle the hand washing, but all of a sudden she was overwhelmed with the enormity of the road ahead. She closed her eyes and gripped the front of the countertop until her fingers ached and turned white. For a moment there, outside, when he was staring at the garden, she’d been afraid he’d remember that fateful day when he’d been playing with Bozo and Parker in the yard. She still remembered his shout at Parker to stop. There’d been something in his voice that had made her drop her paintbrush, leaving it to splatter on the floor as she’d turned and run outside in time to hear the sickening screech of tires.
A shudder ran through her body, and she pushed the memory aside. She’d dealt with all of that. Dealt with it and put it away in a filing cabinet in her mind and locked the drawers as effectively as she’d taped the boxes of Parker’s things closed before hiding them in the darkest recess of the attic.
Olivia opened her eyes and applied herself to scrubbing her cast-iron pan clean and wiping the stove top and the benches down until they gleamed. She cast a glance outside to where Xander lay in the hammock, asleep. Maybe now would be a good time to bring his clothes down from the attic and filter them in among the items she’d brought from his apartment. And put the whole lot back in their bedroom where he believed they belonged.
