Lead on.”
They continued walking. Once they reached the arch exiting to the cement pathway that led to the far deck, he stopped. “Go on out there.”
“What?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “You got me this far and now I’m on my own?”
“It’s not my place.”
She stood her ground.
“It’s important.”
Disconcerted by this clandestine mission, she reluctantly made her way along the path. Tall sea oats swayed in the gentle breeze. A seagull squawked before diving for its prey. Out here, briny seawater tinted the air. As she grew closer, she noticed a tall figure standing on the far side of the deck, his back to her as he looked over the natural vista spreading out before him. She hesitated as fear gripped her. Surely, Wyatt wouldn’t have brought her here if it weren’t safe.
The solitary man remained still. Zoe’s heart began to pound. She didn’t have it in her to stop, as if an invisible force shoved her closer to her destination.
The man turned around.
She slowed her steps, wary now.
When he removed his aviator-shaped sunglasses, she gasped, her knees nearly buckling beneath her.
“Hello, Zoe,” the stranger standing before her said.
She blinked. It couldn’t be, could it? How could it be?
“Mitch?” she whispered past the obstruction in her taut throat.
“Yes. It’s me.”
The husband she’d thought was dead stood before her, very much alive.
MITCH HAD EXPECTED his wife’s surprise. After all, to her, he’d risen from the dead.
His hand gripped the cane that had become his lifeline. He wanted to heave it over the railing, but that meant lifting an arm that still needed rehab to function properly. Instead of cataloguing his injuries, he focused on his shell-shocked wife.
“I don’t understand. We were told... I thought you were...”
“Dead?”
She reached out to place her palms on the deck railing.
“The report was mistaken.”
“But... How... Why?”
“I was injured in a truck accident while leaving a refugee camp.”
She visibly pulled herself together. Took a step toward him, faltered and stopped. “Pretty soon I’m going to have a ton of questions, but right now...I don’t know what to say.”
“How about ‘welcome home’?”
He watched her struggle with this major surprise. “When did you get here?”
“About fifteen minutes ago.”
“How?” Her gaze took in his appearance and he knew what she saw. A guy who’d lost weight, whose complexion had turned pasty after weeks in the hospital. Not the image of the healthy husband who’d walked out of her life nearly two years ago.
“Wyatt. I called him to tell him I was heading home. He picked me up at the airport.”
A flush of red crept up her neck. “You didn’t think to call your wife?”
“I did, but considering how we ended our last conversation, I thought it would be better if I talked to you in person.”
She ran a hand through her shoulder-length black hair. What had happened to the long straight strands that had reached to her midback? In the hospital, he’d dreamed of running his fingers through it. Had dreamed of her easy smile, which was nowhere to be found right now. Had he expected her to jump into his arms when she saw him again despite the circumstances? Expect that old feelings would rush over her again? Disappointment swamped him. She looked like the same Zoe, yet there was something different about her. He couldn’t put his finger on it.
“I’m sorry, you didn’t want to call me? Despite everything, didn’t you think I’d have wanted to know you were at least okay?”
He shifted as the weight on his weak leg grew uncomfortable. “I should have called, but after the accident and long recovery, I just wanted to get back to Cypress Pointe.”
She opened her mouth, then slammed it shut. His excuse probably echoed false, like so many of the ones he’d tossed her way in the past.
“Zoe, I realize this is a shock.”
“Really? A shock?” Her voice cracked. “We thought you were dead!”
“I get it—”
“Do you? We went for weeks not knowing where you were. I tried every number I could think of. Your assistant, Maria, got ahold of a few contacts who pointed us in the direction of Jordan. And then the only information she could find was that you were somewhere along the Syrian border. I hoped...prayed...”
He took a halting step forward to stand closer to his wife. Her familiar scent of vanilla mixed with a hint of floral enveloped him. All he wanted was to cup her sweet face and stare into her blue eyes. Instead, he met her gaze, which had finally moved from shock to anger.
The headache knocking at the back of his skull leaped to a full-blown hammer. He closed his eyes. Took measured breaths.
A soft touch landed on his tender arm and the muscles seized.
“Mitch. Are you okay?”
He slowly opened his eyes. “Pain. In my head.”
“Do you want to go inside? Get out of the sun?”
The old Mitch rebelled at her suggestion. He’d been cooped up for too long. Yeah, the bright light wasn’t helping the throbbing in his head, but he needed to feel the warmth on his skin, savor the earthy scent of sea and sand, listen to the waves rush upon the shore and ebb back into the blue water he’d dreamed of while gone.
“In a few minutes.”
The current Mitch tried to be more levelheaded, to take the advice of the doctors to not overdo. He hadn’t exactly been a model patient.
“At least sit down.”
He shook his head and immediately regretted it. “It feels good to stand.”
“Okay. Can I get you water?”
“Not right now. I just want to enjoy being here.”
A shadow crossed her face. He hadn’t known what to expect in terms of a homecoming. Confusion? No doubt. Awkwardness? Sure. Anger? Most definitely. Now that the conversation
