“It’s me,” she replies like I should know who she is. “Delaney.”
Shit.I thought Nurse Edi was joking about the married thing. I glance at her left hand this time. No ring on that particular finger, but a thin gold band wraps around her middle one. “Delaney . . .” I say, leaving it to hang in the air between us and praying to God that she fills in the blanks of my memories so I don’t look like an idiot.
“I was with you during the accident. Well,” she says, coming closer, “just before the accident.” The diffused sunlight still manages to shine in her blue eyes like stars that would make the night jealous. A mouth that doesn’t shine with gloss but from licking her lips, somehow managing the perfect shade to complement her gently tanned skin and the freckles scattered across her nose and the apples of her cheeks.
She’s pretty.Remarkably so.
Should that matter?Probably not, but I’m suddenly not as upset by the intrusion. And if I were to have a wife, she’d be a good fit, even though I’m not one to typically go for brunettes. I could devour the innocence locked in her eyes without a second thought, but I’ll restrain myself. I’m in ahospital gown for fuck’s sake. I’m not quite in the position I typically am when I talk to a woman I’m attracted to.
“What do you mean you were with me?”Please don’t let her tell me I’m married.
“Oh, you’re eye.” The tips of her fingers press above her mouth. I reach up to touch under my left eye. She says, “It’s the other eye. It’s bruised. Does it hurt?”
I didn’t know since the nurse didn’t say anything, and the doctor has been scarce except for the five minutes he spared me at seven this morning. “The meds must be working. Is it bad?”
“Nothing you can’t heal from.” She leans in like we’re people who inspect each other’s wounds. “The scratch isn’t too bad either.”
“Scratch?” I look around the room, but there’s nothing for me to see what the hell I look like. Here, I was worried about a concussion and a broken arm. Now, I need to be concerned about being bruised and cut up. Looking back at her, I ask, “Why were you at the scene of the accident again?”
“We were talking.”
Nothing about her seems familiar, so I hope our conversation will stir some memories. “About?”
When she slides her hand along the rail of the bed, she angles her body, allowing light to settle over her. She’s younger than I would have guessed even a minute prior. The veil of age eludes her smooth skin, drawing my eyes to travel down her neck to her chest. A strap has fallen over her shoulder, tempting me to lift it back into place. I don’t, though the desire pits deep in my stomach.
It's the blotted spots discoloring her sunny yellow dress that has me wondering if she was also in the accident. Is thatblood? Not the conversation I want to have despite my curiosity.
My gaze drifts higher, and I notice the slightest of shadows under her eyes as if her makeup has smudged to stain her skin. Water pools in the corners of her eyes like they’re waiting for the command to fall. When she takes a breath, my eyes are pulled to shamelessly watch the rise and fall of her chest. So much emotion is ready to spill out of her that my guard goes up. Emotional women and I don’t mix. At least, not usually. I try my damnedest to avoid those situations if I have a choice. I’m not sure I do since I’m trapped in this hospital bed waiting on who knows what before I return to my life again. I say, “You seem upset.”
“It’s just been a long night.” As if cued, she sniffles and then tips her head back, encouraging the tears to withdraw.
Tidbits of information start linking together, leaving me more confused than before. “You waited here all night for me?”
“Yes. Of course, Warner.”
Of course?
Warner?
She’s sounding suspiciously like someone who knows me, or worse . . .a wife. My throat tightens like my chest, a band stretched to its limits and about to burst as breathing becomes harder. The sound of my heart beating faster alerts both of us to the fact.
Looking back at me, she asks, “Are you okay?” She touches the top of my hand, the tips of her frigid fingers sending shocks of electricity up my arm. “Should I call a nurse?” Panic streams through her voice as her fingers press against me.
“No,” I reply, staring at the connection. “No. It’s fine.” I’m good not being on Nurse Edi’s radar the rest of the night.Who knew a woman who I’d be surprised tops out at five feet could be so intimidating?
“You went pale, so I thought?—”
“I’m fine.” I readjust again, moving my hand from the mattress to my lap. “What happened yesterday?” This whole event sounds ridiculous to my ears. How is it possible that I was hit by a car? I’m not a careless man by nature. Every move I make is calculated. Every plan plotted. Nothing is done on a whim. So when an emotion I haven’t felt in longer than I can remember sets in, I almost don’t recognize it. And when I do, embarrassment settles in as I confess, “I’ve lost the better part of the past twenty-four hours.” She’s a stranger to me but acts as if we’re familiar. “Can you fill in some details for me?”
“If I can.” She nods and then shifts farther down the bed, her hands moving to her sides before slipping into hidden pockets. “What do you want to know?”
“You’ve been freed, Mr. Landers.” The door is barely open before Nurse Edi announces like she’s won the lottery. Maybe she has if I’m being released. She looks at the woman standing at the end of my bed. “I’m glad you’re here, Mrs. Landers. You’ll be able to sign the paperwork and then he’s all yours again.” I catch the scowl before she plasters a smile back on her face for Del—oh shit. I’m married.
I glance at my hand again, rubbing the tip of my thumb under the finger that should have some form of representation of such a union. There is none. Did I lose more than a day? Did I lose the memory of my wife, of getting married, the honeymoon, and our life together? I eye this Delaney lady. I would have thought sex with her would be more memorable.
My skin itches under this chalky cast smothering my arm.What else can’t I remember?
Nurse Edi leads her out of the room, leaving me lying here staring out the window at the surrounding buildings. Their shadow finally reaches my window, slowly shoving me into darkness, which matches the holes in my mind.
