The Love Triangle (BWWM Romance) (12 page)

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Authors: Violet Jackson,Interracial Love

BOOK: The Love Triangle (BWWM Romance)
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Part of it was the fact that she was a damn good lawyer. There was a reason I’d requested her in the first place. But part of it was because it was just who she was.

 

After the accident she was different. The doctor had warned me. He’d said that she would suffer from mood swings and confusion, that she might have personality changes. And he’d been right.

 

But he hadn’t warned me that it might take away the woman she’d always been. It was like the light in her had died. The glow that she’d always had, had somehow faded.

 

I phoned Doctor Stein at the hospital.

 

“It’s Elijah Wilson,” I said when he answered his phone.

 

“How can I help you?” he asked, his voice monotone, standard, the way he used it with everyone.

 

“I want to talk to you about Grace Davis,” I said. “The amnesia patient.”

 

“Yes, what can I do for you?” His whole attitude toward me had changed. It was because it was about Grace. Everyone reacted that way to her. Everyone wanted to take care of her, make sure that she was safe and taken care of.

 

Everyone. That included Justin. I pushed it out of my mind.

 

“You warned me that there might be changes in her character after the accident, that she might need a lot of time to figure things out. I get that. It was quite an accident for this to happen. Wasn’t it?”

 

The doctor had been quiet, listening, and I wasn’t sure I was on the right track.

 

“Very severe,” he answered.

“I can’t help but feeling like I’m missing something important. You and the nurses assured me that she’ll be alright, that other than the memory loss she’s not sick.”

 

“When I consulted with her last she was in perfect health other than the minor bruises, and of course, the concussion and memory loss.”

 

I nodded even though the doctor couldn’t see it. “I’m calling because she’s not who she used to be. She’s completely different. She used to have a zest for life that’s just gone now. I’m worried she might not get that back. I’m worried about her wilting.”
 

 

The doctor was quiet for a few seconds. It irritated me. I wanted answers. I wanted them now. I wanted to know how I could fix her so that she was the person I’d fallen in love with. So that I didn’t have to feel like she was broken now, and it was somehow my fault.

 

“Mr. Wilson. Memory loss is a very complicated thing. The brain is so intricate, there’s no way of telling what has happened during the accident, exactly which parts were damaged. It is one of the most complex organs in the human body. Grace might regain her memories and return to her former personality. It has happened before with patients that had a form of amnesia that was a lot more severe.

 

“But she may also not recover her memories. She hasn’t lost a lot of time as far as amnesia goes, but anything can happen and losing that much time does alter your outlook on life.”

 

“Is this all medical research, doctor?” I asked. He was telling me all these facts, but did he know it as fact, or did he see it happening?

 

“It’s experience with many patients in my career as a doctor,” Doctor Stein said and his voice was clipped, like he’d picked up on my questioning his credibility.

“I’m nervous she won’t get better,” I finally said. He was a doctor. Surely I could confess something like that to him.

 

“And it’s understandable. But you have to give her time, Mr. Wilson. She’s only been out of the hospital for a week. There is still so much healing ahead. Not just physically, but emotionally. She’s been through a very traumatic event, whether she can remember it or not. Her subconscious will remember, and it will get to her on some level.”

 

His last sentence made me feel cold. I swiveled in my chair and looked out the window. My office overlooked all of Magna Solution’s buildings. I liked looking out over my empire.

 

“What do you mean her subconscious might remember?” I asked.

 

“The conscious mind, subconscious mind, and unconscious mind are three different parts of the mind. They think, feel and absorb emotional responses to events differently. There may be a chance that she lost her conscious memory, but her subconscious mind has held on to some things. Her reactions might be a result of that.”

 

I felt numb and hollow. Doctor Stein’s voice sounded far all of a sudden, and my throat was dry.

 

“So even if she doesn’t remember, she might keep holding on to something?”

 

“There is that possibility,” the doctor said. “But as I said, it’s very difficult to know exactly how she’s going to react.”

 

I thanked the doctor and hung up. My hand trembled when I pulled it away from the phone. If she remembered anything of what had happened before the accident, why she’d run in the first place…

 

I pushed my thumb and forefinger into my eyes, rubbing them hard enough that white spots danced behind my closed lids. I was suddenly thirsty, so very thirsty. I poured two fingers of whiskey and gulped it down.

 

The phone rang

 

“What?” I barked into the receiver.

 

“Sorrel Alkmaar for you on line one, sir,” Margaret’s voice came over the speaker, calm and controlled, and I envied her with her simple life as someone else’s secretary.

 

“I’ll take it,” I said and pushed the button that connected me.

 

“How are things your side, Wilson?” Sorrel asked, voice cheerful. His voice had that round, full quality, and it sounded exactly like he looked. But I wasn’t in the mood for cheerful.

 

“I’m not here to make small talk, Sorrel,” I snapped. “What’s news?”

 

Sorrel was the owner of one of Magna Solution’s sister companies. We’d started off as partners, but I hadn’t liked working with someone. I’d always been independent, and after a while I realized that clients viewed us in the same light because we were co-owners. I didn’t want to be viewed in the same light as Sorrel. He was jolly and cheerful and he approached life with a laid back attitude. He believed in good coming back to him if he sent it out into the world. I didn’t have time for such bullshit.

 

“We’re having trouble with IBO Group and their shipment. That little rat of a manager was here again this morning, had a lot to say about Magna Solutions that I don’t believe has any credibility. I would have put him in his place if it wasn’t for the fact that Dave Boyd is coming through, but you know how Boyd is.”

 

I sighed. “You’re asking me to come down there now to take care of the rumors?” I asked.

 

There was silence on the other side of the line.

 

“Dammit, Sorrel. Grace just got out of hospital.”

 

“You mentioned the accident,” he said, voice lower. “How is she?”

 

“Fine, fine. But I don’t know if I can leave her alone.”

 

“It’s your call, Elijah, but if you don’t do it you might lose them completely. I don’t think Magna Solutions can handle that right now, not if you’re aiming for global domination.” He laughed like his joke was funny. I didn’t reciprocate. After he’d gotten his kick out of his own humor he sighed. “If you want to risk downscaling then don’t come down here. I’m just giving you a heads up.”

 

“Thanks,” I said and we hung up. Sorrel Alkmaar was annoyingly happy all the time and a pain in my ass. But he was one of the longest friends I’d had, and our friendship had survived a partnership split. I couldn’t say that about many people. I sighed.

 

If I wanted Magna Solutions to keep growing, I had to have IBO on board. I wanted to settle a branch in Europe, and without them I wasn’t going to be able to go global.

 

I picked up the phone. “Margaret, book me a ticket to Miami. I have to see Alkmaar.” I hung up before she could answer.

 

I left the office at five. Later than I wanted to, earlier than I usually did.

 

Grace was in the kitchen when I got home. She was boiling spaghetti in a pot on the stove.

 

“Honey, we have a cook for that,” I said and walked up to her. Usually I would have wrapped my arms around her from behind and kissed her neck. She was the same height as I was and it made everything a lot more personal. But I didn’t do it this time. I still wasn’t sure where we stood and I didn’t want to force myself on her.

 

I had to admit, if things were the way they usually were, I’d have done a lot more than just wrap my arms around her. She wore short-shorts, the ones that were so very fashionable now, and a butter-colored sleeveless shirt that lifted enough to show her midriff when she moved. Her caramel skin was smooth underneath, accentuated by the shade of yellow.

 

And I knew what it was like to kiss that skin, to run my tongue over it around her hip and into the V that led down into the front of her pants.

 

She looked up at me, her eyes soft and warm and smiling, and a part of her was present that I hadn’t seen in a while.

 

“I gave the cook the afternoon off. I wanted to cook for us. I feel like I haven’t done anything since I got out of the hospital and I’m starting to feel like an ornament around here, not working and all.”

 

I wanted to tell her that I made all that money so that she could do nothing all day if she wanted. That was what a man did for his woman. But I didn’t argue with her. The doctor had been specific about her not working for at least a month. The long hours, the concentration – we didn’t want the headaches to get worse.

 

“What are you making?” I asked.

 

“Spaghetti bolognaise. My mom’s recipe.”

 

I hated spaghetti bolognaise. I didn’t say anything. When I failed to answer, she changed the topic. I hoped she didn’t realize I was unhappy with her choice. Maybe she was just trying to talk to fill up the awkward silence that had come to dominate a lot of our conversations. Either way she was more careful than before with what she said.

 

“Do you want to take a drive tomorrow?” she asked again.

 

“A drive?”

 

She shrugged. “Just to get out of the house. I’m feeling a little cooped up, but I don’t think I have what it takes to be behind the wheel of a car yet.” She took a deep breath and didn’t say what I knew she was thinking. She was scared of driving now. She might not have remembered anything about the accident, but the fear was there.

 

It made me think of Doctor Stein’s comment on the subconscious mind. My stomach contracted into a tight fist of nerves. What else was hiding in the back of her mind, scaring her even though she didn’t remember why? I didn’t want to think about it.

 

“Honey, I have bad news,” I said. She looked up at me and some of that warmth drained out of her eyes. I didn’t like it, I wanted it back, but I didn’t know how to make that happen. I’d never really been able to be the cause of that warmth, not even before.

 

“I have to head to Miami in the morning. I have some urgent business I need to sort out.”

 

“But it’s the weekend?” she said. She of all people, my lawyer and lately my lover, should have known it didn’t matter what day of the week it was. Making money only worked when you didn’t stick to nine-to-five.

 

“It’s urgent. I’ll be back Sunday night,” I said. She nodded, and turned her attention back to the spaghetti, giving it a lot more concentration than it deserved. When she didn’t say anything else, I tugged at my tie.

 

“I’m going to hop in the shower,” I said. “You’re welcome to join me.”

 

Her head snapped round and her eyes were guarded. Her face closed and I swallowed, feeling like an idiot. The words had slipped out. It was habit, we used to be a lot closer, a lot more intimate.

 

“I have to take care of this,” she said. I nodded. She could have just pulled the pot to the side and left it. She could have made a plan. But she didn’t want to. I wondered why. We’d slept together well before we’d moved in together. We’d been dating on and off for almost a year before it became official. Or rather, exclusive. But she didn’t want to be with me now, not that intimately.

 

A part of me prayed it wasn’t subconscious, she was just not better yet.

 

Chapter 13 - Grace

I tried, I really did. I knew that I’d chosen him. That was very clear – he couldn’t understand why I couldn’t be close with him the way I apparently was, and Justin wanted nothing to do with me.

 

Neither of them wanted to tell me what had really happened, but I knew enough to know that even if it didn’t make sense to me now, it had to have made sense then.

 

I wanted to try for him. He deserved that much. Since I’d woken up in the hospital, he’d been attentive and caring, and kind. He’d paid for all the medical bills, the hotel even though I rejected him, and everything that I wanted or needed from then on. And he tried to spend time with me without making me feel uncomfortable.

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