Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Scott
G uilt gnaws at me for ignoring the boundaries of the doctor’s orders, but when Beau and his team find Wynter’s phone, I’m not prepared for what I read in her texts.
Drake: Please don’t be upset.
Drake: I had to tell you. I couldn’t go on pretending that I’m not in love with you.
Drake: Pick up.
Drake: Are you going to tell Scott? I deserve it if you do.
Drake: Please, Wynter, call me back. Text me something.
Drake: Wynter, please. I’ve driven all around town to find you. Where are you?
Drake: I love you. I know you don’t love me back, but please just tell me you’re safe.
Drake: I just need to know you and the baby are safe. I just drove by the house, and you’re not there. You’re not at Jessica or Vanessa’s. I even drove to the distillery.
Drake: I get it. You hate me.
Wynter: I don’t hate you. I love you like a brother. Please just stay away for a while. I have to wrap my head around this and figure out how to tell Scott without him killing you.
Drake: If he did, I would deserve it.
Damn right he would deserve it.
Wynter opens the fridge, wincing in pain. I’m such an ass for putting my own feelings before her health and safety. When I saw Drake here, I hadn’t had time to digest the information, and I blew up when I should have quietly asked him to talk outside. But Wynter’s right; this is her life, and she deserves to know that her attraction to me isn’t a betrayal of her marriage vows—they are in fact—her marriage vows. We promised to love in sickness and in health, and it feels like she loves me despite not remembering me or our life together.
“I’ll get it for you.”
She leans against the counter, breathless but with determination written all over her face. “Can you help me to the porch swing?”
I don’t answer. Instead, I pick her up, carry her outside, and ease her down against my body, and my dick takes notice. We hesitate before she sits on the swing. I go back inside and retrieve her drink, then set it on the wick er table next to the porch swing.
“I’m sorry for upsetting you. I shouldn’t have come in with guns blazing.”
“God, Scott. I don’t care that you expressed emotion. What I need to know if you are Drake’s brother?”
My head pulls back. “No, why?”
“Are you my husband?” she asks as her lips flatline, and she plays with her wedding ring, twisting and turning. It’s something she does when she isn’t sure of the outcome.
My lids fall shut and open again. “Yes.” I can’t deny that I’m relieved of this burden. I’ve never, not one time, lied to my wife until the accident. I take my wedding ring off and hold it out. “You had it engraved.”
She removes it from between my pinched fingers and holds it close to her eyes.
“Only you.”
Her chest inflates, and she chokes on her breath as her eyes fill with tears. “So, everything I feel is real?”
I tuck a wavy strand of hair behind her ear. “I hope you still feel the same way, but I understand that you don’t have your memories, and it doesn’t feel the same for you as it does for me.”
She maneuvers her leg out wide behind me and scoots closer to me. She takes my hand in hers. “Don’t tell me how I feel.”
I let out a strained laugh because this is my wife. Nobody tells her what to do or when.
“I wouldn’t dare. I love you the way you are and if you never remember me or the past two decades we’ve spent together, I’ll spend a lifetime making you fall in love with me now. ” Our eyes collide, and I lay her hands on my legs, and mine scamper up her arms to her face. I cup her jaw and ask, “May I kiss you?”
“Yes,” she says breathily.
Slow and measured, I take her lips into mine. Savoring every taste of the Coke bubbles on her tongue as we explore the connection between us. It feels like a first date, and how many couples get a chance for a do-over? To kiss your wife for the first time like a woman instead of a scared, inexperienced teenager.
I open my eyes momentarily to soak in her reaction. Her hands slide up my chest as she pulls me closer. Relieved that the truth is out, the air feels charged with unspoken possibilities and a million what-ifs. But I’ll take all the what ifs for a chance to love her and for her to love me again.
When the kiss ends, we stay mouth to mouth.
“Wow. Now I know those faceless dreams I’ve been having are memories. We are really good together, aren’t we?”
“We are. We trust each other implicitly, and that… well, it makes for…”
“Incredible sex?”
I smile against her lips and chuckle. She has shied away from saying what’s on her mind. “Definitely. But baby, what we have is so much more, and we need to take it slow.”
“I don’t think I do slow. Do I? I feel anxious when nothing is happening. Is that how I am in real life?”
“You’re not good at going slow, no. But you’ve learned that you have too sometimes. Everything you’re feeling is you… and you have to trust in you.”
She dips her head and runs her hand over her belly bump. I want to touch her, but I use every bit of rest raint I have to keep my hands to myself. She seems uncomfortable, so I hold the swing still, inch into the corner, and spread my legs. We wiggle her back into my chest, and I ask, “Is that better?”
“Yes.” She leans her head back onto my shoulder. “Drake doesn’t love me,” she says with a hint of sadness.
Unsure of how to handle her statement, I decide to just listen. Hear what she feels and needs to say. My fingers trace circles on her arms, and she purrs.
“His parents are getting a divorce and when he told me, we hugged. As we came out of it, he kissed me. I’m sure it was just Drake needing someone. I felt like a cheater, and I got the hell out of there.” Her painted Funny Bunny fingernails scratch over the back of my hand. “I don’t remember you but in my memory, I knew I was married and disgusted that I let someone other than my husband touch me.”
With unshielded honesty, she bears the vulnerability in her heart. She’s as afraid as I am about the future, and her fidgeting hands reveal the depth of her uncertainty.
“There’s no excuse for kissing or touching someone without an invitation. You did nothing wrong. Drake was wrong and judging by his text messages to you, he regretted it, but I think it’s because you rejected him.”
“I wish I remembered you.”
Me too.