“And distant,” Eric finished. “And cold. And completely unavailable to his wife.”
“But I’m still his wife.”
“You haven’t been his wife for a long time. Not really. At what point do we stop calling it an adjustment and start calling it what it really is?”
“Which is what, exactly?”
“Over.”
“Till death do us part,” I said. “You died, Eric. Stuart didn’t.”
I expected another argument, but all he did was nod, then brush the grass from his jeans like we’d just finished a pleasant picnic instead of a training session that had been topped by verbal sparring.
“You’re the one who screwed up, remember? You kept secrets from me, and they bit you in the ass. You lost, you died, and Stuart won. More than that, he put up with me even after he learned all my secrets. I’m not going to abandon him.”
“Maybe.” He took a step toward me. I took one back. “But you still want me.”
“I’ve never said otherwise.”
“And you showed it to me, too.” Another step. Another retreat. “And not just in bed before Stuart woke up. You show me every time you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”
“Stop.”
“He’s not back, Kate. Stuart’s awake and walking around, but he’s not back. But I am.”
A shiver cut through me, because yes, Eric was back. His death may have ended our marriage, but he was still here. Maybe he was in a new body, but it was the same soul. Same memories. Same way of looking at me that made my knees go weak even after all these years.
And yeah, that was all a little confusing.
“He’ll get better,” I whispered, not entirely sure if I was trying to convince Eric or myself. “The visions will stabilize. I’ve talked with Father Corletti.
“Father Corletti said he’s never seen anything like it.” Eric’s hand came up to cup my face. “If he said anything, it was priest-speak for ‘I have no earthly idea what’s happening to your husband, and I don’t want to tell you that he might be losing his mind.’”
I shook my head. “No. Stuart’s going to get through this.”
“Katie.” His thumb traced my lower lip, and I shivered despite myself. “Stuart may get better. I hope he does, for Timmy’s sake if nothing else. But even if the visions stabilize, even if he figures out how to live with whatever’s happening in his head...” He paused, letting the words hang between us. “He may never be the man you married. Not anymore.”
I pulled away, needing distance, needing air. I ended up leaning back against the tomb, hugging myself to ward off the chill from the nearby ocean.
“It’ll be okay,” he said, his voice gentler now. “Whatever happens. It’ll be okay.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No. I don’t.” He reached out, taking my hand in his. “But I know that I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.” He lifted my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. “I’m still me, Kate. I’m still the man you married. Different body, same soul. Same love.”
“You’re not,” I said.”
He didn’t argue. He just leaned in and kissed me.
And because I’m apparently incapable of making good decisions where Eric Crowe is concerned, I kissed him back. Just for a moment. Just long enough to remember exactly why I’d fallen in love with him all those years ago in the Forza training rooms deep beneath the Vatican.
Then I shoved him away and slid back into a sparring stance, because that was safer. That was something I knew how to do. “We’re supposed to be training.”
“Then show me what you’ve got.” He mirrored my stance, circling left as I circled right, the tomb between us.
I feinted left and struck right, but he was ready for it, blocking my punch and using my momentum to spin me around. I countered with an elbow to his ribs, and we separated, both breathing hard.
“You’re pulling your punches,” he said.
