Falling for Her Husband (13 page)

Chapter Eighteen

“I want to try to use a different approach,” Dr. Harris said, her hopeful expression filling Amber with excitement.

“What do you have in mind?” Amber settled in her usual overstuffed chair, resting her purse on the floor by her feet. They’d discussed trying to get Amber to remember the accident before, and at last week’s appointment, her psychologist had mentioned she wanted to try something next week.

Looked like it was about to happen.

“I want you to try to relax and open your mind.”

Amber burst out laughing. “Sounds very New Age-y.” She had grown comfortable in her meetings with Dr. Harris. They almost felt like two friends getting together to talk for an hour once a week.

“It sort of is,” Dr. Harris confirmed with a little smile. “Now, why don’t we have you lie down on the couch?”

“You’re turning this into the clichéd therapist visit, aren’t you?” Amber stood and went to the couch where she could stretch out and stare up at the ceiling.

“If you’re going to fight it, then this approach will never help you,” Dr. Harris said primly, making Amber laugh some more.

“I’m sorry. You’re right.” She was feeling good, feeling confident. Maybe it didn’t matter if she remembered or not what happened that fateful night. Yes, she still wanted to know and she appreciated the help, but then again…what was the old saying? Ignorance is bliss?

Indeed.

So she allowed Dr. Harris to get her into position on the couch. Watched with quiet amusement as she walked about the office and closed the blinds, lit a few candles and clicked on her iPhone so that it played classical music on low. The mood was set. The moment was now.

But would it help?

“This will almost be like hypnotizing you, but not quite,” Dr. Harris said as she settled into her usual chair, her voice low and soothing. “I’m going to ask you a couple of questions and hopefully lull your mind into opening completely, so it won’t be such a struggle when you fight to remember what happened.”

“Sounds good,” Amber murmured. The music played gently in the background, she could already smell the fragrant scent of the candles and suddenly, she was sleepy. As if she wanted to take a long, delicious nap…

“Close your eyes,” Dr. Harris said, and Amber did so. “Think of your mind as if it was a tightly furled rose, so close to bud but not quite. Soon your brain will open up as if it’s blooming. And once it’s bloomed, you’re open to anything. Everything. All the thoughts. All the memories…”

She went on like this, speaking in a soft monotone, her voice lulling Amber just as she predicted. Amber closed her eyes, losing herself in the words, in the memories. Her psychologist knew enough about the accident, the dreams Amber had, to put together a tentative timeline of the day.

Debbie had given her lots of input too, all of it negative. Amber had told Dr. Harris everything. And now she was relaying it all back to her, piece by piece, bit by bit.

“You argued with Vince. What about, you’re not sure, but he came to see you at the studio where you were doing a photo shoot. He showed up unexpectedly and you weren’t happy to see him.” Dr. Harris paused. “Why, Amber? Why were you so upset with your husband?”

Her mind opened. Slowly but surely. “We hadn’t spent much time together lately,” she murmured. “He was angry. He demanded to see me, but I was busy. It didn’t matter to him that he was interrupting my work. He never saw my career as important as his, and that hurt me.”

“Mmm-hmmm. Go on,” Dr. Harris prompted.

Amber said nothing for a few moments, quietly forcing her brain to expand even more. “I was embarrassed when he showed up at the studio. I knew we would get into an argument and I didn’t want everyone to watch it unfold. That’s why I left.”

“You left?”

“Yes.” Amber nodded, keeping her eyes closed. She felt…strange. As if she was lifting up, up from her body and observing. As if she were watching the entire interaction between her and Vince unfold, all over again at the studio. Like she stepped back into the past. “The sidewalk was so crowded I hoped it would just swallow me up. I wanted to run away from him. It was too much pressure. Vince demanded all of my time and my mom demanded all of my money. She’d called to tell me about Dad’s treatment center and how she was afraid it wasn’t working.” Tears formed, clogging her throat, threatening to spill from her eyes. “It never worked. I couldn’t help him and I felt lost. With my dad, over my marriage. Nothing was working. The only thing that seemed to work was my career, and Vince was trying to ruin that for me too.”

“How?” Dr. Harris asked.

“By getting me to quit. He wanted a family. He wanted to be with me. I was in such a panic, so overwhelmed with everything coming at me at once that I said I wanted…” Her voice drifted and her mind turned back to that day.

“You force me to act this way with your behavior. You don’t act like a true wife.”

Those words had hurt, more than she would’ve ever admitted. He didn’t believe she was a true wife. And she couldn’t help but agree with him.

“Because I’m not a true wife! Not really. We married too quickly. It was all hot passion and steamy nights and long, sweet talks, but it wasn’t real. More like a fantasy.” She was crying. She could feel the wetness of her tears on her cheeks. “This isn’t working. I want a divorce, Vince.”

“I asked for a divorce. He’d been so angry, so confused and shocked and horrified. It…broke my heart.” The tears streamed freely down her cheeks, but she ignored them, pushing on. “It was what I thought was best, but as soon as the words came out, I immediately wished I could snatch them back. It was too late, though.”

“Why was it too late?”

“I’m the one who really ignited the fight. Once I said that I wanted a divorce.” Amber paused, a sob overtaking her and making it near impossible to speak. “Once I said I wanted a divorce,” she repeated, “there was no going back.”

“Did you really want one?” Dr. Harris asked gently.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t think so. I certainly don’t want one now.”

“Has he ever mentioned the divorce conversation to you?”

“No.” She can only imagine why he hadn’t. He’d kept that from her.

And she half couldn’t blame him…could she?

“She knows.”

Vince frowned, pulling his cellphone away from his ear to check the phone number again. He didn’t recognize it, was surprised he answered it, but considering Amber’s condition, he answered every call he received for fear it could be in regards to his wife. “Who is this?”

Mocking laughter answered him, and he knew in an instant who it was. “Debbie?”

“You’re so incredibly smart, Vince. Well, not when it comes to Amber, but yes. You’re a crafty one. Sly as can be. I’m guessing that’s why you didn’t tell her about the divorce?” Debbie asked.

Dread sank his stomach to his toes. This was the moment he’d been waiting for. He’d known this was coming and had worried over it for months. From the moment Amber was hit and he realized she had no memory of the accident or what happened before it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Liar,” she said, sounding as happy as if she won the lottery. “She called me after she got out of her appointment with her therapist, full of so many questions. Has she called you yet?”

No. He didn’t want to admit it so he didn’t. “She’ll be home soon,” he said stiffly.

“I wouldn’t count on that.”

He gripped his phone tight as he started pacing the length of his bedroom. He’d just come home from work himself. Usually Amber was here waiting for him. “What the hell did she say to you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I’m figuring that’s why you called in the first place. So you could tell me all about the conversation and rub it in my face.”
Bitch.
He refrained from saying it. He could think it all he wanted, but he wasn’t about to insult this woman. She was a risk he didn’t want to take.

“Perceptive, as usual.” She laughed again, though it was softer, not as mocking. Not that he believed she’d softened. He knew she was dying to sink the knife into his heart and twist it until he bled all over the floor. “She doesn’t understand why you weren’t honest with her, Vincenzo.”

He cringed. How he hated when she called him by his full name. No one did unless he was introducing himself for the first time or his mother was angry with him. On occasion, Amber called him Vincenzo when she was teasing him, heavy Italian accident included.

His heart ached. God, he hoped he hadn’t ruined everything by not telling her about their argument before the accident. If he did…

No way could he ever forgive himself.

“I was protecting her,” he said. Not that he needed to defend himself when it came to Debbie. In fact, he should hang up at this very moment before he gave her too much ammunition she’d use against him eventually.

“Say what you want, but she was crying, Vince. Crying. The poor, poor thing.” She made a tsking noise, sounding like a disappointed mama, and he grimaced. He hoped like hell she was exaggerating. “You’ve broken your trust bonds with your wife, my friend. I wonder if they’ll ever be repaired.”

He ended the call before she could say another word, throwing the phone onto his bed. Still pacing, he tore off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, ready to change into something more comfortable before he texted Amber to check up on her.

First, he needed to figure out what to say. Act nonchalant, as if he has no idea what’s going on? Or immediately say he was sorry and hoped that they would talk? What was the best tactic?

The front door clicked open and he realized quick he had zero time to figure out what tactic would work out best. He’d have to go on pure instinct.

“Amber?” he called, trying his best to keep his voice neutral. “I’m in the bedroom.”

The sound of her heels clicking on the bare floor sounded louder and louder as she came closer. And then she stood in the doorway, her expression sad, her eyes rimmed with red, as if she’d been crying.

“Hi,” he said, frozen as he stared at her. “Are you all right?”

She slowly shook her head. “Not really.”

“Wh-what happened?” Damn it, he didn’t mean to stutter. He didn’t want to give away that he knew.

“I remembered.” Her voice was so soft he almost didn’t hear her.

“Remembered what?”

“The argument. What I said to you. What you said to me.” She sat heavily on the edge of the bed. “Why didn’t you ever tell me, Vince?”

He took a step toward her. “I was afraid to upset you,” he said quietly, as if he were talking to a wild animal that might startle easily. “Your recovery went so smoothly and our relationship became much stronger, I just…I didn’t want to risk it.”

“Risk what? Thinking I might want a divorce again?”

“I know you love me.” He sat beside her on the edge of the bed. “There’s no way in hell you could want a divorce…right?”

“No.” She hung her head, staring at her hands, which she wrung in her lap. “But you should’ve been honest, Vince. I have a right to know what happened to me before the accident.”

He frowned. “You don’t remember that?”

“I remember you coming to the studio and demanding that we talk. I was so embarrassed. That was my place of work and you come barging in, all enraged, macho Italian husband. I was…ashamed.” She kept her head bent, as if she couldn’t meet his gaze.

Damn. He had no idea she’d felt that way. “I’m sorry.”

“Tell me more, Vince. I remember walking out of the building and you coming with me. I remember we started to argue. But after that…it’s a blank.” She lifted her head, her despondent gaze meeting his. “I need to know what happened next.”

He didn’t want to tell her. The argument had only gotten worse. How could he admit to her the tremendous guilt he still felt over her stepping in front of that car and getting hit? He distracted her. It was his fault she got hurt. She could’ve died.

“Amber…” he started but she cut him off with a shake of her head.

“Don’t hide it from me any longer, Vince. I must know. It’s important to me.” She curled her hands into fists, pounded them once on her knees. “Say it. Please.”

Chapter Nineteen

“You force me to act this way with your behavior. You don’t act like a true wife.”

“Because I’m not a true wife! Not really. We married too quickly. It was all hot passion and steamy nights and long, sweet talks, but it wasn’t real. More like a fantasy. This isn’t working. I want a divorce, Vince.”

“No, you don’t.”

She laughed. “You can’t tell me what I want or don’t want. You don’t have that right.”

“As your husband, I do.”

“Stop with the macho act because I’m not doing or saying what you want me to. Our marriage doesn’t work. It doesn’t make sense. You’re in Italy most of the time and I’m…everywhere. We never see each other and when we do, we fight like we’re doing right now.

“I love you, but you want too much from me. Things I can’t give you and that’s not fair to you, Vince. You deserve a woman who can be there for you no matter what. You’re a wonderful guy. Really you are. It’s my fault that we aren’t working out.”

“No. I disagree.”

“You can disagree all you want. But I’m determined to make you see that this isn’t working. I want a divorce.”

“Have you contacted a lawyer yet?”

“No. But I will.”

“I’ll fight you every step of the way.”

“Oh, Vince. Fine. Fight me. I’m doing it, though. I’ll contact a lawyer first thing tomorrow.”

“And then you chased me until I ran in front of a moving vehicle and got hit?” she asked once he finished retelling their conversation from that fateful day.

He sighed in agitation, shaking his head. “Of course not. You stormed off because I refused to accept your demands for a divorce. I followed you, tried to get you to stop, but you were too mad. You just…wanted to get away from me.”

Amber stared at him, her expression incredulous. “So you kept chasing me? Why didn’t you leave me alone?”

“You were angry. And you’re my wife. I wanted to resolve our problems, not let you storm off in a huff and next thing I know, I’m getting served divorce papers. We never even had any real problems beyond never seeing each other. And that could’ve been fixed, Amber. You know it,” he explained.

“Sounds like I didn’t know it then.” Amber sighed and leaned forward, burying her face in her hands. “What happened next?” she asked, her voice muffled.

“I tried to get you to stop, but you wouldn’t. Next thing I knew, you were running into the intersection and the car struck you. I-I saw it all happen.” The anguish came rushing back at him along with the memories. “It was awful. Something I’d rather forget.”

She dropped her hands and lifted her head, her gaze meeting his, direct and unwavering. “Were you close to me when it happened? Could you have reached out and…saved me?”

“No, I was too far. It all happened so fast.” His voice drifted. She still stared at him hard, almost like she didn’t believe him.

And then she proved that she really didn’t believe him.

“So that’s how it happened, then? I mean…I remember the conversation at the studio, but after that, it’s still foggy.” She stood and he stood as well, sprinting in front of her when she started toward the bedroom door. “What are you doing?”

“I should ask you the same thing,” he said. “Are you trying to leave?”

“Maybe.” She started toward him, giving him a little shove against his front. “Move out of my way, Vince.”

“No.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Do you think I’m lying, Amber?”

“I-I don’t know.” She backed away from him with a couple of steps. “I keep having these dreams.”

“What happens in those dreams?” He almost didn’t want to know.

“Nothing. Everything. I don’t know.” She threw her hands up in the air, reminding him of that very day. She’d done the same thing, her normal indicator she was beyond frustrated with him. “You push me, okay? You’re so angry, telling me that I’ll be yours, that I’ll always be yours, and then you grab me by the shoulders and start shaking me.”

“That…that never happened.” Something similar, but more when they were front of the Starbucks, not after she stormed away from him, running down the sidewalk.

“It just feels so real. You’re yelling at me and you look so mad. You grab my shoulders and we’re standing right on the edge of the curb. You give me a shove and the next thing I know…” She clamped her hand over her mouth, stifling a sob before. “I’m falling,” she said, her voice muffled beneath her palm. “I see the car and then I wake up.”

“It didn’t happen,” he murmured. “I would’ve never pushed you in front of a goddamn car, Amber. Do you really think I would?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” Her voice broke and she dropped her hand. She was full on crying now. “It just feels so incredibly real. And I keep having the same dream. It changes a little, but it always ends the same, with you shoving me into the street, in front of the car.”

He remembered how her words, her divorce threat had devastated him that day. How it all changed in seconds and she was lying in the middle of the street, her limp body looking broken and battered. The blood all over her face, her arm at that horrible angle…

God, he could hardly stand the thought.

“If you believe I would do such a thing to the woman I. Fucking. Love.” He paused, his breathing harsh, his chest aching with pain and anger and sadness. “Then you don’t know me at all.”

“Wait, Vince. What are you—” She grabbed his arm, trying to stop him, but he jerked out of her hold, going to the bed to grab his cell from where it lay in the center. “Are you leaving?”

“Yes,” he said grimly, shoving his phone in his pocket. “I can’t stay here with you, knowing you think I’m some sort of monster.”

“I don’t…I don’t think you’re a monster.” She rested her hand on her gently swelling belly. “I just had no idea you kept that from me, Vince. I can’t believe I wanted a divorce.”

“I couldn’t believe it either,” he retorted as he strode down the hall, his determined steps taking him to the front door. He wanted out of there.

Now.

“Please don’t leave,” she said, grabbing hold of his hand and making him stop. He did so, not shaking her off, but he wouldn’t look at her either. He was hurt. His earlier fear of her finding out about their argument all changed when he realized that she believed he purposely hurt her. What sort of man did she think he was? Why would she believe he’d do such a horrible thing to her? He loved her. She was having his baby. Their relationship had been stronger than ever, yet she still believed such a horrible thing about him.

“I just…I’m going to Stasia and Gavin’s,” he said, turning so he could look at her. “I think it’s best if we stay apart for the night. I need to get my head together. You need to gather your thoughts after remembering some of that day. I’m sure you’re in a state of shock.”

“I’m afraid,” she whispered. “I told you my true feelings and you’re using them against me.”

“By you saying that you suspect I pushed you in front of that car, you may as well call me a murderer, Amber. I won’t stand by and allow those poisonous thoughts to flow between us. You need to come to a decision.”

“A decision? Are you giving me an ultimatum, like my mom?” Her voice rose and she tugged her hand from his.

Ah, she didn’t like it. They’d argued over her parents before and she’d gone off and given them the money anyway. All of it for naught, since her dad reentered the rehabilitation facility and then bailed out of it two days later. They refused to take him back.

Another waste, as usual.

Determination filling him, he studied her. Hoping she understood his point. If she couldn’t trust him… “You need to believe in me,” he said. “I would never, ever hurt you Amber. Not purposely. And definitely not physically. What happened on that day was an accident. Yes, I was wrong, keeping our divorce argument from you. But I did it at first to protect you.”

“And protect yourself,” she added.

He sighed. “Yes. I was protecting myself too. But I did it more for you. You were so fragile, so vulnerable. You were scared of the scar on your face, your arm and how it would affect your modeling. You didn’t want to give up your career and you seemed so confused. I wanted to do what was best for you. I wanted to be somewhere safe for you. The one you could trust above everyone else.”

“You were,” she murmured.

“That’s the key word.
Were,
” he stressed. “If I can’t be what you believe in now, at this very moment, then I can’t stay here with you, Amber. We need to be strong together. For us, for our baby. Remember that.”

And with those last words, he left the apartment.

Amber didn’t know what to do, didn’t know who to talk to. Her mom would be no help. She’d just tell Amber not to let Vince go because he had lots of money and could take care of her. Or she’d beg her to come back home, and that was the absolute last thing Amber wanted to do.

She couldn’t turn to Debbie Kaye because for whatever reason, she’d called her the moment she finished with her overwhelming therapy session. The moment she heard Debbie’s voice over the phone, she knew she’d done the wrong thing. But she wanted to hear the details from Debbie. Amber knew Debbie would tell her, and she had.

Debbie had gone over every gory moment, accompanied by a strange tinge of glee in her voice. As if she relished giving Amber all of the horrible details. Not that there were many, per se. Amber had been undoubtedly shocked by the revelation that she and Vince had argued and actually discussed divorce.

“How did you even know?” Amber had asked Debbie. “Were you there? Did you witness our argument on the sidewalk?”

“No, I didn’t need to. You’d called me and said you were going to ask him for a divorce. I just assumed that happened and you couldn’t remember. I’m no dummy, Amber,” Debbie had drawled. “Before the accident, you told me everything. All of your problems, how much you loved Vince, how distant the two of you had become once you were married. I was your closest confidant, the one you told all of your troubles to.”

Amber had said nothing in response. She knew what Debbie had said was the truth. Why would she lie about this? “I remember being so frustrated with him when he showed up at the shoot. He embarrassed me, thundering about like he owned the place. Like he owned me.”

“He always acted like he owned you, darling,” Debbie had told her. “You were finally starting to see you were your own woman once more. Then the accident happened, and poof. You fell under the delectable spell of Vincenzo Renaldi.”

“Delectable?” Amber didn’t like the way Debbie always talked about her husband, as if she was attracted to him. “Are you hot for Vince or what?” She added a laugh at the end of the question, but she was serious. She needed to know what exactly Debbie’s feelings for Vince were.

“Well, I won’t deny that your husband is incredibly handsome. Those smoldering dark good looks.” Debbie waited a beat. “Any woman would fall under his spell, darling.”

“Right. And I did. Twice.” Amber paused. “Maybe you did too?”

“Perhaps. Not that he ever noticed me once he got a look at you the first time you two met.”

She sounded jealous. Was she really? Or was Amber being too suspicious?

“Besides, you two fell so madly in love all over again, how could I put a stop to that?” Debbie continued.

So very true, and Amber had fallen rather happily too, until the disturbing dreams started. And they wouldn’t stop. She started to believe in them, that her dreams were really her memories. She started to think that maybe Vince had played a more sinister part in her accident…

But did she believe it still? Now?

What about Debbie? Amber was starting to doubt her so-called good intentions. Maybe her agent was jealous of her relationship with her husband. Maybe Debbie wanted her own relationship with Vince, which was just all sorts wrong. She felt like she couldn’t trust anyone.

Her husband’s earlier words had hurt, though really she knew that she’d hurt him more. Her lack of faith in him, her lack of faith in their marriage, in his love for her, had cut him to the very bone. How he kept the truth of their argument on that day of the accident hurt as well. They were both guilty in this silly, painful mess. Should she let it keep them apart? She was pregnant with their child. To separate now would be…

Scary.

And she didn’t want them to be apart. She loved him.

Did he love her?

Of course, he does,
her heart whispered.

Her mind told her otherwise.