she’d moved his things in there so he could recuperate in his own space. She just wouldn’t mention that she’d moved them from across town rather than from down the hall.
Before leaving the house again, she folded a set of clothes and a belt into a small overnight bag for him and then flew out the door. She was jittery with emotional exhaustion and lack of food by the time she got back to the hospital. Xander was standing at the window when, slightly out of breath, she finally arrived.
“I was beginning to think you’d changed your mind about taking me home,” he said lightly when she approached him.
Even though his words were teasing, she could hear the underlying censure beneath them. And she understood it; really she did. Under normal circumstances she would have been back here much earlier. But their circumstances were far from normal, even though he didn’t know that yet.
“Traffic was a bitch,” she said as breezily as she could. “So, are we good to go? I have some clothes for you here, although I’m thinking you’ll find everything on the big side for you now. We might need to get you a whole new wardrobe.”
Her attempt at deflection seemed to work. “And I know how much you love shopping,” he said with a laugh.
She felt her heart skip a beat. He’d always teased her about her shopping style. While she liked getting new things, she hated crowded stores. She had the tendency to decide what she wanted before she left the house and, with no dillydallying, get in, get the product and get right back out again as quickly as possible. No window-shopping or store browsing for her. Unless it was an art supply store, that was.
Olivia told herself it was ridiculous to be surprised that he’d remember that. After all, he hadn’t lost all his memory, just the past six years. She forced a laugh and handed him the bag of his things.
“Here you go. Will you need a hand to get dressed?”
He’d had issues with balance and coordination since awakening from his coma. Physical therapy was helping him regain his equilibrium and motor skills, but he still had some way to go.
“I think I can manage,” he said with the quiet dignity she had always loved so much about him.
“Just call me if you need me.”
Xander looked her straight in the eye and gave her a half smile. “Sure.”
She smiled back, feeling a pang deep inside. She knew he wouldn’t call her. He was nothing if not independent—and stubborn. Yes, there’d been a time, early in their marriage, when they’d each been the center of the other’s world. But that had all changed.
He was so lucky he didn’t remember, she thought fiercely. Lucky that he was still locked in the best of their marriage and couldn’t remember the worst of them both.
* * *
Xander took the bag through to the shared bathroom and closed the door behind him. A tremor ran through his body as he allowed the relief he’d felt when he’d seen Olivia return run through him. Ever since she’d left earlier today he’d been tense and uncomfortable, so much so the nurse preparing his discharge papers had remarked on the spike in his blood pressure.
He couldn’t understand it. Olivia was his wife. So why had he suddenly developed this deeply unsettled sensation that things weren’t what they should be between them? He shoved off his pajamas and stepped into the shower stall, hissing a little as the water warmed up to a decent temperature. He couldn’t wait to be out of here. Even with Olivia’s daily visits to break the monotony of sleep, eat, therapy, eat, sleep, over and over again, he wanted to be home.
Xander roughly toweled himself off, swearing under his breath as he lost his balance and had to put a hand on the wall to steady himself. His body’s slow response to recovery was another thing driving him crazy. It was as if the messages just weren’t getting through from his brain to his muscles.
He looked down at his body. Muscles? Well, he remembered having muscles. Now his build was definitely leaner, another thing he needed to work on. He pulled on his clothing and cinched his belt in tight. Olivia had been right. His clothes looked as if they belonged to another man entirely. He couldn’t remember buying them, so they had to be something from his lost years, as he now called them.
A light tap at the door caught his attention.
“Xander? Are you okay in there?” Olivia asked from outside.
“Sure, I’ll be right out.”
He looked at his reflection in the small mirror and rubbed his hand around his jaw, ruffling the beard that had grown during his stay here. He looked like a stranger to himself. Maybe that was part of Olivia’s reticence. The beard would have to go when he got home. Xander gathered his things off the floor and shoved them in the bag Olivia had brought and opened the bathroom door.
“I’m ready,” he said.
“Let’s go then,” she answered with that beautiful smile of hers that always did crazy things to his equilibrium.
Had he ever told her how much he loved her smile, or how much he loved to hear her laugh? He couldn’t quite remember. Another thing he would have to address in due course.
They stopped at the nurses’ station to say goodbye and collect his discharge papers, and then they began the walk down the corridor toward the elevator. It irked him that Olivia had to slow her steps to match his. It bothered him even more that by the time they reached her car he was exhausted. He dropped into the passenger seat with an audible sigh of relief.
“I’m sorry—I should have gotten you to wait at the front entrance and driven round to get you,” Olivia apologized as she got in beside him.
“It’s okay. I’ve had plenty of time to rest. Now it’s time to really get better.”
“You say that like you haven’t been working hard already.” She sighed and rested one hand on his thigh. The warmth of her skin penetrated the fabric of his trousers, and he felt her hand as if it were an imprint on him. “Xander, you’ve come a long way in a very short time. You’ve had to relearn some things that you took for granted before. Cut yourself some slack, huh? It’s going to take time.”
He grunted in response. Time. Seemed he had all too much of it. He put his head back against the headrest as Olivia drove them home, taking solace in the things he recognized and ignoring his surprise at the things that had changed from what he remembered. Auckland was a busy, ever-changing, ever-growing city, but it still disturbed him to see the occasional gaping hole where, in his mind at least, a building used to stand.
“Did the school mind about you taking time off to spend with me?” he asked.
“I don’t work at the school anymore,” Olivia replied. “I stopped before—”
“Before what?” he prompted.
“Before they drove me completely mad,” she said with a laugh that came out a bit forced. “Seriously, I quit there just over five years ago, but I’ve been doing really well with my paintings since. You’d be proud. I’ve had several shows, and I’m actually doing quite well out of it.”
“But it was never about the money, right?” he said, parroting something Olivia had frequently said to him whenever he’d teased
