ALEC
“Thank you for helping,” I say to Tana once the dishes are done, and the kitchen is clean. “But I don’t want you to push it too much. The doctor said you should ease back into things.”
Tana wipes her hands on a dishtowel and leans against the counter. Moonlight streams in from the window at her back, turning her hair into a golden halo. “Maybe we should set some ground rules.”
I pull out a stool from the kitchen island and give her my full attention. “Shoot,” I tell her.
“I don’t want you to treat me like a damaged person.” When I open my mouth to object, she holds up a hand. “Let me finish. Please.”
Nodding, I gesture for her to continue. I’m gonna have to remember to give her space, let her speak her mind. So much of my professional life is spent taking charge, figuring out how to solve problems and fixing things, that I’m finding it’s all I want to do with Tana. Fix her. It’s the worst feeling in the world to realize that maybe this is one thing I may not be able to fix.
“Thanks. Um, well, like I said, I don’t want you to treat me like I’m damaged. I need you to be honest with me, even when I’m being a bitch.” She pauses as though she’s expecting me to object, but she gives me a half-smile when I don't. “I deserved that. Anyway, so rule number one is honesty. Without that, we have nothing.”
“I agree. I’ll be honest with you. In return, I want you to promise you won’t hold anything back. If you’re getting uncomfortable or need space, just tell me. I know the girls and I will have a lot of expectations from you. If it gets to be too much, you gotta let me know so we can let you breathe.”
“Okay, we can make that rule two, and it goes both ways. If my being here is too hurtful for you or stressful for the girls, tell me so we can work something else out. I don’t ever want to be a burden to any of you.”
She has her arms crossed over her stomach in a protective gesture. I’d give anything to wrap my own around her and hold her close against me. I’d give anything to feel hers wrapped around me. I’ve missed her so fucking much and it’s killing me not being able to hold her, touch her.
“And don’t say I’m not a burden,” she warns before I can say exactly that. “We both know how hard this is on everyone. If it gets too hard, I’m giving you a free pass to tap out.”
There won’t be a free pass as far as I’m concerned. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work and get my wife and the mother of my children back. But I know that would only upset her, so I say, “Same goes for you.”
“Then I’ll agree to these trips down memory lane.” She shifts from foot to foot, and a vein hammers in her throat. “I mean, if you still want to.”
“Of course, I want to. All I want is to help you.”
Tana clears her throat. “Good, then whenever works for you.”
I consider this for a minute. “Why don’t we aim for Friday? That will give you a couple days to settle in, get your bearings. How does that sound?”
“Perfect.” She hesitates, and I’m struck dumb when she smiles a little and the dimple in her cheek winks at me. It reminds me so much of our first kiss and the awkward goodbye at her door that I momentarily lose the ability to breathe. My heart thuds dully in my ears until she says, “Well, I’m going to get some sleep. Thank you again for everything today.”
“You’re welcome, Tana.”
With another tremulous smile, she ducks her head and heads toward the spare room. My eyes follow her until the door closes behind her. I down the rest of my beer in one long gulp.
* * *
“Shh, you don’t want to wake Mom up,” I hear bright and early the next morning.
I lie awake in bed like I had most of the night and blink blearily at my ceiling, trying to wake the rest of the way up.
“Do you think she wants some breakfast? Maybe we should check.” Gemma’s whisper is more of a half-shout. I’m certain if Tana isn’t awake already, she will be soon if the girls keep it up.
I peel myself from the bed with reluctance and slip a pair of shorts on. The girls are huddled at the entrance to the back hallway when I find them, contemplating whether or not to wake Tana up for breakfast. They lurch guiltily when they hear me clear my throat.
“What did I say about bothering her in the morning?” I ask as I move to start a cup of coffee and pull out the fixings for yogurt and fruit for the girls.
“See?” Paisley says smugly. “I told you we weren’t supposed to wake her up.”
Gemma pouts and digs into her breakfast as soon as I place it in front of her on the island, her disappointments soon forgotten.
“That’s right. We need to let her settle in, and you both need to get to the bus stop for school. We’re running a little late as it is.”
They slurp down their yogurt without any major interruptions, and they have their backpacks on, lunches packed, and teeth brushed just in time for the bus. A miracle. Mornings were never my thing. I’m more of a night owl, spending most of my evenings tinkering in the quiet solitude while Tana and the girls slept peacefully. She was the one who’d wake up before the sun to reply to emails or social media comments, work on orders, and have a full breakfast ready for everyone by the time we rolled out of bed.
I add that to the mental list of things I miss about her as I run through a checklist of things I need to do while the girls are at school. Run a load of dishes. Start some laundry. Order new school uniforms for both of them. Check the mail, pay bills. I’d be lying if a said I didn’t realize exactly how much Tana took care of around the house until she wasn’t there to do it anymore. I vowed that if she made it out of the hospital, I would never take her for granted again.
I’m finishing up on the computer and doing some mental calculations—we’ll just scrape by this month, barely—when I hear the spare bathroom shower come to life. I check my watch and absently note the time, nine a.m. Pushing to my feet from the little desk nook just off the kitchen, I pour a cup of coffee, hesitating over how to prepare it and decide to leave it black. Then I plate up eggs, avocado, and toast.
When she walks out, one hand lifted to rub at her eyes, my heart nearly leaps out of my chest. I gulp, my mouth going dry. She’s dressed in a pair of my old gym shorts that are baggy at her hips and a tight little tank top with nothing underneath. It pulled tight at the softness of her belly and dipped low over her generous breasts. I damn near swallow my tongue, but she doesn’t seem to notice my reaction.
“Good morning,” she says with a yawn and a delicate little sniff. “Something smells good.”
Be cool. “Breakfast,” I say and give myself a mental pat on the back.
Her eyes brighten, and she sits at the island in front of her plate. “This looks wonderful. Thank you. I’ll have to learn how to make you breakfast, too.”
I nod noncommittally and force myself to face away from her to clean up the dishes so I don’t freak her out by staring. I can’t believe I’d almost forgotten how fucking sexy she looks in the morning. All soft and sleep-rumpled. She may be a morning person, but she’s not the sort who has to jump in a shower right away and be picture perfect before the rest of the house is awake.
She likes to linger over breakfast—her favorite meal of the day—catch up on chores around the house, and then take a shower and get ready for the day. It’s torture sitting here and not reaching for her, pulling her back to the bedroom to make her dirty enough to need a shower.
My cock grows hard in my shorts just imagining it, so I busy myself with anything and everything in the kitchen while I rein in my thoughts. The last thing Tana needs right now is me salivating over her. “What do you have planned to do today?” I ask her once I’ve managed to get control of myself.
She takes a drink of the coffee—black because I wasn’t certain how she’d take it now—and then winces. She sets it down while she adds hefty doses of cream and sugar. I focus on her cup as she brings it to her lips. This time it’s not because her mouth, full and soft, parts and gives me a glimpse of her pretty pink tongue. No, it’s because that’s how she’s always taken her coffee, too light and sweet to even taste like coffee anymore. I wonder if that’s significant. The doctor said matters of amnesia aren’t an exact science. If you’d asked me before, I would have said a person is a sum of their experiences. Medically, if they don’t have those experiences anymore, wouldn’t it make them a different person?
I give myself a mental shake and refill my mug. As much as I’d like to have answers, Tana doesn’t need me psychoanalyzing her every move. She has enough to deal with as it is without worrying more.
“I thought I might walk around town, see if I can’t familiarize myself with everything.”
My first reaction is to ask if she thinks that’s wise, but I hold my tongue. If I were in her shoes, I’d want to do the same thing. I can’t keep her under my watchful eye forever.
“That sounds like a good idea. You can use my truck if you want.”
She brightens. “Are you sure?”
I retrieve the keys from a pegboard beside the garage door and set them on the counter next to her finished plate. “My only condition is that you keep your new phone on you, just in case you get lost or something.”
“Of course,” she says and gets to her feet. “I can’t tha—”
“You don’t have to keep thanking me, Tana.”
She bounces on her toes. “Right. Well, I’m going to get ready. Don’t feel like you have to wait around on me all day. I’ll be fine, I promise, and I’ll call you if I get into any trouble.”
I give her a nod because what else can I do? I can’t keep her in a protective bubble forever. She’ll only grow to resent me; if I were in her shoes, I’d want the freedom to explore too.
But when she leaves an hour later, there’s a sour feeling in my stomach.
I’d much rather have her in my line of sight where I can make certain nothing will ever happen to her again.