“No.” I cleared my throat. “I’m just eating the diet I normally did – the one I remember, at least.”
“You don’t need to lose weight,” he said, his face moving to the back of my neck as he inhaled my scent. “You were too skinny when we met.”
“I didn’t think so. I was just slim.”
Anderson hummed but didn’t reply. Then, “Sit,” he said, “I want to talk.”
Good, because I did too.
I crossed the space and sat down on the sofa, not being able to help the sigh of relief that left me. I was exhausted, both mentally and physically. My leg hurt like hell.
“Can I put my leg up on your coffee table?” I asked. “It’s throbbing.”
“Of course.” Anderson pushed it closer to me, and helped me lifted my leg up.
“Thank you.”
“Want a cuppa?” he asked with a wink. “Two sugars?”
I found myself smiling as I nodded. “Yes, please.”
He entered the kitchen and put the kettle on while I looked around the room. I gasped when I spotted pictures of myself decorating the wall. I was smiling in every single one, but I didn’t look happy. I knew what I looked like when I forced a smile, and that was exactly the expression on my face in each picture. My stomach clenched. If I wasn’t happy in these pictures . . . maybe I hadn’t been happy with Anderson like I thought I was.
I was planning on divorcing him, but the knowledge that I may have been unhappy in my marriage to him shocked me. For some reason, I’d believed if I got my memories back that I would find myself in love with Anderson, and that had scared me because of how much I loved Elliot. But as I looked at my smile, at my eyes, in the pictures around me, I was starting to believe that may not have been the case.
I looked at Anderson as he walked towards me with two steaming cups in his hands. He placed one in front of me on a coaster, then sat across from me and sipped from his. He watched me the entire time, and it was a little unnerving. I picked up my cup and thanked him. I blew on the steaming liquid, then took a gulp. I smacked my lips together, tasting the sweetness of the sugar and the slight bitterness of something else. It wasn’t bad, just a faint taste. I drank some more, then placed it on the coaster next to my leg.
“You look like your health has improved.”
“It has,” I said with a nod. “My leg is the only thing giving me a spot of trouble right now, but it’s healing, and that’s the important thing.”
Anderson took another sip of his tea.
“I rang the hospital this morning,” he said casually. “They told me you were discharged a couple of days ago.”
“Yeah.” I licked my lips. “It’s been kind of hectic, I’ve been settling back into . . . life.”
“Are you here because you’re ready to come home?”
Christ. My heart hammered against my chest as I tried to figure out how I was going to end my marriage to him.
“Anderson,” I began, shifting in my seat. “We have a lot to talk about, but first I want to talk about Bailey. She’s gone.”
Anderson said nothing.
“You knew.”
It wasn’t a question and he knew it.
“I wanted to tell you ages ago, but your parents and Elliot were dead set against it. They didn’t want you to know, for their own selfish reasons.”
There wasn’t anything selfish about Elliot or my parents keeping Bailey’s death – or anything else – from me . . . they’d done it to protect me. I wanted honesty from Elliot, but it wasn’t something I could cope with just after my accident. I was barely holding it together now.
“I feel like everyone should have told me,” I replied, emphasising the word. “Everyone. I understand why no one did though. It’s killing me to learn about it now . . . I wouldn’t have been able to handle learning of her . . . of her death when I woke up.”
“I only got to speak to you one-on-one on two occasions,” he said. “You don’t know me like you once did, so how would you have reacted to news of Bailey’s death coming from me compared to him?”
I blinked.
“You have a point,” I said. “But either way, I didn’t know and now I do, and it’s killing me inside.”
Anderson sat forward. “I’m sure it’s distressing – in your mind you were still close to her, but the fact of the matter is you weren’t close to Bailey, or him – or anyone except me. You never spoke of them at all.”
I flinched at his words. They were so abrupt, cruel and completely unnecessary considering the topic. I had only spoken to Anderson twice before, like he said, but both of those times he’d been upset and sweet and someone who I wanted to take care of because my situation was hurting him. His coldness while talking about Bailey upset me.
“Can I use your bathroom?”
“Of course,” he said. “It’s your bathroom too. Down the hallway, first door on the right.”
I got to my feet and, without my crutches, made my way out of the room and towards the bathroom. When I was inside, I locked the door. I felt sick at how dismissive he was being about her death and how I felt about it. He was my husband; he should have been comforting me, or at least understanding of how I felt. I wanted to leave but I couldn’t; I hadn’t found out anything about Bailey yet and I needed answers. I took out my phone and saw a text from Elliot that he’d sent just two minutes ago.
Everything okay?
I swallowed.
Yeah, it’s a bit awkward, but I expected that. He made me some tea and we’re talking now. I’m waiting to broach the subject about Bailey. If I don’t reply, it’s because my phone is on silent.
I sent
