Chapter 12 #3
“We always have company,” she told him half-jokingly.
They were at the dinner table moments later, their conversation centering on the Night of the Stars charity event.
The purpose behind the gala was to raise money for retired police and military personnel, wounded warriors and their families, as well as those who’d lost someone in service.
The black-tie affair itself honored different members and families each year.
While he’d heard that it was usually one of the hottest tickets in town, and pricey to boot, this year had quickly exceeded expectations set by previous years.
It might have been due to the announcement of Amanda’s appearance, but Art had told him they always had at least one major headliner in attendance, so maybe not.
Alex chuckled to himself, still marveling over the fact that his wife, on top of being beautiful, kind, and wickedly funny, was what they called an “A-lister” here in the twenty-first century.
Not that he doubted her talents, but there hadn’t exactly been paparazzi hanging around their eighteenth-century estate; then, Amanda had spent the past few months on private property, so he hadn’t been given much of a chance to see it—until recently when she’d started getting out a bit more.
Still two weeks out from the event and it was fully sold out, with a head count close to five hundred. While the hotel where it was being held wasn’t the largest venue in town, it was the nicest. Easily five- or six-star accommodations, and the rooms completely booked for the night.
Luckily, Calder Defense had held a block of rooms and comped each of the families and service personnel being honored.
It was the least Alex felt he could do for them, a small price for their sacrifice.
He’d also held on to a suite in case Amanda needed to get away from the masses.
It would be her first night out in a big crowd and he knew that she may need some space.
Their dinner table discussion moved to their upcoming trip to New York to celebrate Callie’s birthday.
It had been Callie’s request to have her birthday there and Amanda had agreed.
They’d spoken with Evan and thought it may be the next best thing outside of a trip to Great Britain, which, in his mind, was still not an option. Yet.
By the time the table had been cleared and they started on dessert, Callie was half asleep.
“Come on, angel,” he said, reaching out. “Let’s read a story and get to bed.”
Amanda waved him on, telling him she’d be up shortly. Once through Callie’s routine, he lay down next to her and read her one of her Amelia Bedelia books. Halfway through, she whispered, “Papa?”
“Yes, Angel,” he whispered back.
“Are we really going to all be together? For real?”
He knew what she meant. While he lived next door, and they spent a lot of their time together, they weren’t all under one roof. He lifted her chin and nodded. “We are, Callesandra. I promise.”
“But Mama doesn’t remember still,” she said, shaking her head and looking terribly worried.
He did his best to ease her fears. “Mama might never remember, Callie.” A fact that he would have to live with.
It had been over three months, and according to Evan, they were still dealing with option two, though perhaps with a twist. Maybe her instinctively knowing him and a spattering of memories here and there was the most they could hope for.
All that they may ever have. Amanda was having more occurrences of déjà vu.
But no memories. At least none that were discernible.
It wouldn’t be the end of the world if she didn’t remember the first four months they’d had with each other.
He realized with a start that they’d spent almost more time together now than they had before.
Intimacy aside. And, if that happened to be all he got, he’d live with it.
They could start over from the here and now.
“But I want her to,” Callie said. “I miss talking to her about Janey…or Goodly…or even Mrs. Beasley. The real one, I mean.”
Alexander understood how she felt. Goodly had been a constant in her life, and honestly, he missed Goodly himself.
Callie had also developed a deep affection for Janey in the short time she’d been in their household, and Mrs. Beasley was Callie’s favorite doll that she left behind.
Amanda didn’t know it now, but she’d had her replicated for Callie before leaving Great Britain last year, and though Callie loved her new doll fiercely, Alexander could tell that for her, it wasn’t the same.
“So do I, angel. So do I,” he whispered.
“Well, aren’t you two all serious,” Amanda remarked as she came in and plopped down next to them.
“Mama!” Callie climbed over Alexander to crawl into her lap. She put her little hands on her face. “Are we for surely going to New York for my birthday?”
“Oh, we for surely are, Callesandra.” Amanda kissed her and hugged her. “I promise, sweetie.”
Alexander and Callie shared a grin, and Amanda asked, “Is there something I don’t know?”
Alexander laughed and shook his head. “So not touching that one, Amanda.” Then they tucked Callie in, checked on the baby, and headed back downstairs.
When they hit the foyer, Amanda looked up. “Movie? Or do you have to go?”
He pulled her close and told her, “I don’t have to go anywhere, Amanda. I just want to be with you.” He kissed her forehead. “That’s all I want, all I’ve ever wanted since we’ve been together. Let me tell the others we’ll be in the library. Go pick out what you want to watch.”
He found her on the sofa with Bridget Jones’s Diary frozen on the big screen. Alexander picked up the remote, turned off the lights, and stretched out on the sectional behind her, pulling her flush against him.
His body always reacted to having his wife so close in his arms, but he’d found himself in this place where he was content to just be with her, be near her.
Kiss her yes, hell yes. But he’d sat on the edge of her remembering for weeks now, and he wanted her to remember them before going any further.
It was an odd crisis of conscience, because for him, making love to Amanda would be a consummation of finding each other in the “here and now,” quite literally. But for Amanda, if she didn’t remember, then what would that be for her? She’d be giving herself to the him of now, not then.
Maybe he was a selfish bastard, because he was willing to have Amanda without her memory returning, but he would much prefer to have her with her memory fully intact.
In any case, he had no intention of telling her he’d “traveled” from the eighteenth century.
Ever. Amanda would either remember and know the truth, or she would never know, period.
He was giving it until their trip to New York. After which, moot point.
“Hey, start the movie,” she said.
He did, rubbing Amanda’s back the entire time they watched. Long after Amanda fell asleep in his arms, Stephen came in so they could go over tomorrow’s schedule. That sorted, Alexander told him to send the boys home and to turn off the TV on his way out.
Alexander couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept with his wife—not made love to her, just slept beside her. He threw the cushions behind him to the floor, giving them another foot of room, and scooted back, taking Amanda with him.
He closed his eyes, thinking that normally he would have been saying good-night about now, and appreciating how lucky he was to get to luxuriate in the moment.
As if on cue, Amanda rolled over. No pretense tonight, as if knowing in her sleep what to do, she stretched her long, lean, beautiful body chest to chest and toe to toe with his.
He wrapped her up tight, deciding he wasn’t going anywhere until she woke.
The last thing he did was silence his cell and toss it to the floor.
The boys were on their own tonight—all of them.
He awoke to the gentle stroke of fingers on his face.
When he opened his eyes, he could see from the predawn light that cast the room in soft shadows that it was barely morning.
Amanda’s blue eyes were focused right on him.
He hadn’t slept so well in…hell, he honestly couldn’t remember.
Centuries, undoubtedly. She was looking at him so deeply, a million emotions raw for him to see.
“No one should be so handsome,” she whispered, continuing to trace his forehead and temples. “Sometimes, Alex, it hurts.” She grabbed his hand and placed it on her chest. “It hurts right here when I look at you.”
“Jesus, sweethe—”
“Shh, let me finish,” she said, her fingers on his lips.
“When I woke up…tangled in you, I felt so content. All the things you always make me feel,” she said, looking right at him, naming each one.
“Whole…safe…cared for…wanted…beautiful… Everything you convey with a look or sometimes the simplest action.”
He took her hand and kissed her open palm. “Let’s start this over, Amanda,” he told her, his voice still gruff. “Morning, beautiful.”
She smiled. “Morning back,” she whispered, before adding in a chiding tone, “We had all night, Montgomery.”
He chuckled, knowing exactly what she meant. He positioned her beside him and then kissed her neck, every part of her face, before ending with a very poignant kiss to her lips. Her “Mmm” was answered with a grunt that rumbled deep within his chest.
“I want some more of that brilliant mouth,” she whispered. “Kiss me again. Please.”
He gladly complied. And it was brilliant. All of the two minutes they enjoyed until they heard Zander cooing through the monitor.
“Divide and conquer,” he told her in between a few more nibbles. “Zander or coffee.”
“I’ll start the coffee. You get Zander.”
“Deal.”
He helped her up but couldn’t stop from grabbing her a second later as she stretched. He hugged the hell out of her, just because he could; rubbed his face in her neck and breathed in deep.
She whispered, “I love when you do that to me.” Then she did the same and whispered again, “I love doing it to you more, though.”
She grabbed the monitor and made her way to the kitchen as he headed for the stairs. And as he went to fetch his son, he had the distinct thought that in the grand scheme of things, where he and Amanda happened to be right now, in this “middle” they’d found together, he was actually quite content.