The Wife He Couldn't Forget. Yvonne Lindsay
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Just how many of the nuances of their day-to-day life did he need to relearn, he thought as he picked up the mugs and moved toward the coffee machine. She must have seen the look that crossed his face at the news.
“It’s okay, Xander. Whether I take sugar or not isn’t the end of the world.”
“It might not be, but what about important stuff? The things we’ve done together, the plans we’ve made in the past few years? What if I never remember? Hell, I don’t even remember the accident that caused me to lose my memory, let alone what car I was driving.”
His voice had risen to a shout, and Olivia’s face, always a window to her emotions, crumpled into a worried frown—her eyes reflecting her distress.
“Xander, none of those things are important. What’s important is that you’re alive and that you’re here. With me.”
She closed the distance between them and slid her arms around his waist, laying her head on his shoulder and squeezing him tight as if she would never let him go. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, trying hard to put a lid on the anger that had boiled up within him at something so simple, so stupid, as misremembering whether or not his wife took sugar in her coffee.
“I’m sorry,” he said, pressing a kiss on the top of her head. “I just feel so bloody lost right now.”
“But you’re not lost,” Olivia affirmed with another squeeze of her arms. “You’re here with me. Right where you belong.”
The words made sense, but Xander struggled with accepting them. Right now he didn’t feel as if he belonged here at all. And the idea was beginning to scare him.
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