He froze, telling himself she was in shock. Yet a huge chasm opened inside him. A vast, familiar emptiness he’d dared to hope they might conquer.
In an instant that profound feeling of helplessness was back.
‘When were you going to tell me?’
Her voice was a cracked whisper but he heard every tortured syllable. They felt like razor blades, scoring his chest and his throat when he tried to swallow.
She knows. Everything.
It was what he’d feared when he’d seen her so still, so…separate. But he’d told himself it wasn’t possible.
‘That we’re married?’
In his peripheral vision, Conall saw the restless shift of her hands. One glance confirmed it was the nervous habit she’d acquired in recent weeks, rubbing her thumb over her ring finger. The finger that had for such a short time worn his ring. Each slide of her hand on that empty finger eroded something inside him.
‘No. The reason we married. The baby.’
His stomach went into freefall, plunging deep and brutally fast.
He’d thought he’d hit rock bottom before, all his certainties about his inner strength splintering under the weight of trauma. Now he found he still had the capacity for more pain. He sucked in a sharp breath that couldn’t fill his lungs.
His need to comfort her, and comforthimselfby holding her close, was so great he had to wrap his hands around the wood of the dock, rather than touch her when she clearly didn’t want it.
‘I’m sorry, Greer. So sorry.’ Even knowing it wouldn’t solve anything, he felt better, finally being able to say it to her in person. Those unspoken words had been a terrible burden. Never before had he felt so deeply the isolation of his previous life. Or wanted to change it more. ‘I’ve wanted to tell you but couldn’t.’
She shook her head, bruised eyes holding his, and he wished there was some way he could take on her pain as well as his own.
‘Couldn’t or wouldn’t?’
Conall stiffened. The fact that she hadn’t been able to remember the past meant he’d been able to spend time with her, look after her.
Have sex with her. That’s what she’s thinking about, that you took advantage of her.
You made her spell out that she wanted sex with you, telling her all that mattered was what she felt in the moment. As if what happened before wasn’t important.
He wished he could regret his need for her but couldn’t imagine ever not wanting her. He couldn’t wish it hadn’t happened.
‘I consulted the medical staff—’
‘Aboutme! I deserved to know.’
He inclined his head. ‘Yes. But given the trauma you’d suffered, they thought it better you regain your memory naturally.’
Or perhaps he’d won the day, declaring he didn’t want more trauma imposed on his wife before she was strong enough to cope with the news.
‘It’s been torturenottelling you,’ he admitted. ‘Waiting for the moment you remembered. Fearing the day when I’d see you like this, hurting so much.’
He dragged in air, pain slicing his lungs as he watched her bright gaze cloud.
Greer had never seen such pain on Conall’s features. Not that she could recall. For while she remembered key events, some things were hazy.
But there was stark emotion in his voice too, as if he were stretched to breaking point.
She knew the feeling. She couldn’t get her breath. It was as if part of her were missing.
It is. Your tiny, unborn baby. Gone forever.
She hunched forward, arms wrapping around her middle as if that might hold in the keenest pain she’d ever known, fresh as the day of her miscarriage.
