Tell Me a Truth (The Story Series Book 5) (2 page)

“Yeah?”

“The fact that you and I almost screwed while drunk is the least of my worries at this point.”

He blew out a breath and nodded. “Understood.”

T
wo excruciating days later
, I fidgeted with the cap sleeve of my black wrap dress while hovering at the floor-to-ceiling window, looking thirty-six stories below at the dark street. I squinted. Was that the car Caleb and his parents were in? Or that one? I sighed when the two cars kept heading down the street. The penthouse was too high up to see the street well, especially at this dark hour. I turned toward everyone in the living room, and Colin, Laura, and Sarah blinked in my direction.

“You look so pretty tonight,” Laura said.

“You’ve said that ten times.” Sarah had been unusually snappy today.

“Fucking excuse me, I’m nervous,” Laura ground out.

“Not around the baby.” I clenched my jaw until my teeth ached. I shifted my weight from one foot to another. Tensions had been running high for two hours, since Caleb’s private jet from Miami to Orlando was delayed due to a storm. Colin had talked to his parents a few hours before.

“Sorry.” Laura squeezed Sarah’s hand.

“I’m sorry, too, sweetie.”

I looked at Colin, who was holding Charlotte. “Did your parents say anything else about Caleb? Did they tell him about me and the baby? Did they mention anything during the last call?”

He shook his head. “They said it probably wasn’t best to discuss on the phone. That we’d deal with everything when he got back, once he saw a doctor here.”

I stared at the floor blankly, not knowing what to do with my hands. If there was no news from Caleb’s parents, that meant they hadn’t mentioned that he was married and a father. My chest tightened at the thought.

It seemed like a good time to smooth some invisible wrinkles in my skirt. Caleb had always loved this dress on me; the last time he’d seen me in it was during the early days of my pregnancy. I recalled how he’d growled and raked his eyes over my cleavage. We’d been at a party at one of his vice president’s homes that night, and he’d cornered me in the bathroom and slipped a hand beneath the fabric, groaning as he cupped my breast and kissed me.

I sighed.

The dress was low-cut, hit above the knee, and because it was a wrap style that tied at the waist, skimmed my post-baby curves. I hoped it would help him recognize me.

Remember me.

“Let me have her.” I held my hands in the direction of Colin, who’d been pacing with Charlotte in his arms. She was the only happy person in the room and had entertained herself for the past ten minutes by chewing on her fist.

He deposited her into my arms and resumed pacing. She grabbed at my chunky silver necklace and lunged for my curls. I knew she wanted to play peek-a-boo in my hair because lately that was her favorite entertainment.

“No, babykins. Let’s leave Mommy’s hair alone for tonight.” I swept my curls back with my free hand, and she giggled into my chest. My hair had grown even longer in Caleb’s absence, since I hadn’t had the desire to do anything with it. But my hair didn’t matter, Charlotte’s slobbery little mouth didn’t matter, nothing mattered. We were about to be a family—for the first time.

A surge went through me. I was giddy. Manic, even, at the thought of Caleb’s return.

I blew a fart noise on Charlotte’s cheek and she laughed more.

Bouncing Charlotte on my hip, we turned again to the window, and she reached her chubby hand to the glass, as if trying to touch the night. I’d dressed her in a frothy, hot pink dress with a tulle skirt. She looked unbearably adorable, and it would be impossible for Caleb not to recognize his own child with big blue eyes so identical to his.

Colin’s phone buzzed. “It’s him.” He inhaled sharply, then answered and grinned. “Hey. Yeah, we’re all here. Okay.” He hung up. “Caleb and Dad and Mom are in the lobby.”

Laura gave a little muffled cry and hugged Sarah, who stared hard at me over Laura’s shoulder.

“
I’m fine
,” I mouthed to her, not feeling fine at all. I kissed Charlotte’s cheek. “Daddy’s home,” I whispered, trying not to shake too much. Charlotte seemed unusually heavy.

After a few seconds, a nervous, barking laugh escaped my lips. “How long does it take for the elevator to crawl up here?”

No one responded.

Then, the ding of the elevator bell.

The sliding open of the doors.

And my husband walked in.

I froze in place, open-mouthed, as he hugged Laura first and hard.

I wanted to wrap myself around him.

Caleb was a little more silver-haired and tanner than I’d ever seen him. The corners of his eyes were even more crinkled, and he looked tired or like he’d been under a lot of strain. Before he’d gone to Brazil, he’d gained weight, probably because I had been eating so much when I was pregnant. Now he was rock-solid, lean, lithe.

I took two steps forward and watched, awestruck, as Colin embraced Caleb and Laura, and the three of them held each other for long minutes. Their parents held back, mute and watching.

My husband, as if returned from the dead. Now that he was here, standing just feet from me, guilt surged through me. I’d allowed myself to think he was dead. How could I have had such doubt? Or had I ever truly believed he was gone? The shock of seeing him after so long left me dumbstruck.

I stood rooted to the floor, my heart slamming against my chest in confusion and excitement. Colin, Laura, and I had talked about this, whether I should hug Caleb first. We’d decided against it because he might need time to ease into the reality of being a husband and father. If he didn’t recognize me, a hug from a stranger with a baby on her hip might be deeply troubling.

Now I regretted the decision because all I wanted was to bury my face in his neck.

I scanned the length of him, checking for anything amiss. My husband was thinner than I’d ever seen him, but not emaciated. He was sinewy and hard-bodied, as if he’d been running a lot.
Soccer with the local kids
. No, my husband was so goddamn handsome that it took my breath away. Still not conventionally handsome, especially not now with his sharper features. But his unique beauty stole my breath, that’s for sure.

With my free hand that wasn’t holding Charlotte, I wiped tears from my cheek with my palm.

Caleb stepped out of the three-way embrace. “You can’t imagine how good it feels to be home. You don’t even know what I’ve gone through. You both look amazing. I missed you two so damned much.” Caleb cupped their faces in his hands, then they all pressed their foreheads together. They were all sniffling and laughing at the same time.

I failed to choke back a loud cry. His voice. His husky, rich, gorgeous voice. It sounded exactly the same as the last time I’d talked with him, and if I hadn’t been holding Charlotte, I’d have knelt at his feet from sheer gratitude. And seeing him touch his brother and sister kicked up something primal in me.

I wanted him to touch
me
. Anywhere, everywhere.

My whimpering must have been loud because he looked straight into my eyes and grinned. I took three steps, smiling ear-to-ear, tears spilling over my lower lids and blurring my vision as I moved toward him.

“Oh my.” Caleb never took his smoldering steel-blue eyes off me, which made my heart flutter. I stopped in my tracks, mesmerized, my chest heaving. His eyes were the same. And I could tell he recognized me. I took another step, unable to staunch the desire to hold him, press my face against his skin, kiss his beautiful mouth.

My love. Alive. And just a few feet away.

Of course he remembered me, it was ridiculous for anyone to think otherwise, and I again moved closer to him, dimly aware of Charlotte’s coos. She reached out to him.

How did she instinctively know he was the man who’d made her? My girl was that smart. She knew he loved her.

Caleb opened his mouth in a wider grin.

“Colin, my little brother.” His tone was taunting. “You didn’t tell me you had such a gorgeous girlfriend! And…what’s this? You had a baby while I was gone? Why didn’t you tell me that I’m an uncle?”

The hush that fell over the room was similar to the quiet we’d heard in Canada on our honeymoon, only nowhere near as joyous. It unfolded over Caleb’s parents, his siblings, Sarah and me like chloroform-laced velvet, stunning us all into silence.

“What?” he boomed, looking around, then settling his eyes into mine once again. “His girlfriend is gorgeous. I can’t say my little brother’s girlfriend is beautiful? Or are you his wife? Did you two elope? What’s your name, anyway?”

“Emma,” I whispered, then made an unintelligible half-cry, half-moan. I felt an invisible hand squeeze my throat and I gasped for air. Had I grown paler than usual? Because I sure felt like all the blood and heat had drained from my cheeks.

Suddenly I couldn’t see, a white haze overtaking everything. When I started to sway on my tall, black Jimmy Choo heels, Laura rushed to my side and grabbed Charlotte from my arms.

When my knees buckled, it was Colin who caught me.

T
he first thing
I saw when my lids fluttered open were my husband’s captivating blue eyes, staring down at me. I was stretched on the sofa. Someone had taken my shoes off, and I flexed and pointed my toes.

“She is beautiful, I’ll say that. I had good taste apparently,” Caleb murmured.

His voice was the same, but God, it didn’t sound like something my husband would say. It was more like a Colin quip. I blinked several times. How much had the amnesia changed him?

“Caleb. Now’s not the time to joke. Not with Emma, after all she’s been through.” His mother’s voice was reproachful. “We told you she would be here.”

Caleb lifted an eyebrow and studied me. He was on the edge of the sofa, sitting near my waist. My hand reached for his knee, and I squeezed. Shot him a smile. Then I remembered that
he
didn’t remember
me
, and my expression faded. I withdrew my hand, feeling self-conscious.

“You okay?” Caleb asked gently. He rubbed my bare arm, and my body felt like a sparkler—how it ignites and almost pauses aflame for a moment, then bursts into a spreading inferno.

“Hi. I’m your wife.” I swallowed, trying not to cry. The room seemed a little off-kilter, hyper-real. And I was still dizzy, despite my prone position.

“So I’m told.” His smile faded, and he spoke as if he didn’t believe me. Why didn’t he believe me? The touch of hesitancy in his voice made my stomach fizz uncomfortably. This amnesia situation was obviously more complicated than I’d expected.

Out the corner of my eye, I could see the rest of the family huddled in the kitchen, like a pack of wounded dogs. It was the first and only time I’d seen the King family look so cowed and ill at ease. Laura was chewing on her thumbnail, the lines in between her brows deep.

“Where’s Charlotte?” I asked.

“Laura put her in the bedroom.”

I nodded, then paused, feeling my pulse in the twitch of my lower eyelid. “Charlotte’s your daughter.”

He pressed his lips together and nodded. Another rub of my arm, another spreading of sparks, replaced by the cold splash of reality:
he isn’t sure if I’m telling the truth.
I could read his face—I had studied it for years—and I knew when Caleb didn’t quite believe something.

He licked his lips. “I’m sorry I made you faint.”

“It’s okay,” I breathed. “I’m ecstatic you’re back. You don’t know how much.”

“Are you going to be okay? Would you like us to call the doctor?”

I shook my head and sat up, with his help. He was so close and all I wanted was to kiss him.

“There. See? All better.” He patted my knee as if I was an elderly stranger on the street he’d accidentally knocked into.

Who was this man and why was he being so formal with me? I stared at him warily, and he sighed. “This is all really overwhelming to me. I’m exhausted after the flight and…everything. Maybe we can talk tomorrow, okay? We’re all a bit raw, I think, tonight.”

The way he said it, firm and businesslike, shattered my heart.

Dumbly, I nodded. “Maybe we should go to bed.”

He shot me a wide-eyed, alarmed glance, and I realized he thought I’d suggested we go to bed together. Which was, of course, what I wanted. But not while this chasm was between us. Although, if we could only wrap our arms around each other, everything might be right again. Maybe.

I followed up quickly. “Not, you know, together. Separately. In different rooms. You can, uh, sleep in the guest room.”

“The guest room?” He looked skeptical.

“You redecorated the master bedroom for me. For us. And I’ve been sleeping in there since you, since you…” My voice trailed off, and Sarah was suddenly at my side.

“Let’s call it a night,” she said sternly.

With remote, shocked eyes, Caleb stood up and walked to his family, into the arms of his mother and sister. Sarah pulled me to standing, and without speaking to any of the Kings, I shut myself in my bedroom and wept until it felt like my body was barren of liquid.

T
he next morning
, I woke to the strains of Charlotte’s babbles over the baby monitor. I peeled the covers back, feeling hungover from crying. I threw on a black silk kimono with silk shorts underneath and paused to inspect my puffy eyes in the mirror. The lower lids were a purplish color, like bruises. I touched the skin gently with my ring finger. My enormous sapphire-and-diamond engagement ring and the platinum diamond-ringed band sparkled in the morning light.

Had the previous night actually happened, or was I going crazy? Had Caleb returned? How could he not remember giving the engagement ring to me, in our bed?

I pondered these questions as I padded down the hall to the nursery where I plucked Charlotte out of her crib and hugged her.

“Good morning, sunshine girl,” I whispered. “Let’s hope today’s a better day.”

We walked to the kitchen together, stopping in the hall when I heard the low baritones of two hushed male voices.

“Caleb, she’s really your wife. And that’s your baby.”

My throat nearly closed at the words. Colin and Caleb were awake and in the kitchen. They couldn’t see me. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, and I gnawed at my bottom lip.

“So why the hell is there a cat here? What’s his name? Biggins?”

“Higgins. He’s Emma’s cat. He’s been living with you for years.”

I stood, open-mouthed and shocked. Then I heard Colin speak.

“You like Higgins. I even saw you napping with him on the sofa a couple of times last year.”

I heard a long sigh. It was Caleb. “He seems like a fine cat. Whatever. The cat’s not the issue. It’s really difficult for me to believe I’d marry again after Tara—that’s the main point. But if you and Laura and Mom and Dad say so, I suppose it’s true. Still, shouldn’t I get a paternity test? Look at a marriage license? Wedding photos? I’m so damned confused still. I feel like I need proof.”

Colin groaned. “Caleb, for the love of Christ. I’ll show you the marriage license. There’s a copy at the office in your files. And can’t you look at that child and see she’s yours? Isn’t that all the proof you need? And try to think of Emma. She’s been through a lot, too, you know.”

That Colin was coming to my defense stirred a strange pride in me. Colin, for all of his faults, did have my best interest at heart. He knew what I wanted. What I needed. Regardless, the fact that it was my husband who had doubts about my honesty made my skin prickle and not in a good way.

“Hey, I can’t remember the last several years.” Caleb’s voice was low and strained. “I’ve been in and out of amnesia and depression for nine months. Now you tell me I’m married and a father. I need to discover the details for myself, okay?”

I’ll be sure to tell him
all
the details, I thought as I drew in a sharp breath. Steeling myself, I walked into the kitchen, silent and seething. I knew my anger shouldn’t be directed at Caleb because of all he’d gone through. Still, that he didn’t believe I was his wife or that Charlotte was his daughter was like a swift punch to the gut.

“Good morning.” My tone was clipped as I settled Charlotte in her high chair. I glanced at Colin, who scrutinized the polished concrete floor, then at Caleb, who stared at me. Our eyes held for a few seconds too long, then his drifted down to my bare legs before snapping back up and appraising me with flinty eyes.

“Excuse me, I need to get to the cabinet.” I didn’t want my voice to shake after what I’d just heard, but I think my hands betrayed me. Caleb glanced at my trembling and moved aside, and I reached for the small food processor I used for Charlotte’s purees.

“Good morning. How did you sleep?” Caleb inquired, his words rumbling through me. I knew that tone. It was one of politeness, one he’d used with his secretary and waiters and the concierge in the lobby. It was one of good breeding and accommodation, not one of love.

I mumbled a positive answer, busying myself with selecting an avocado out of a bowl and pulverizing the hell out of it in the food processor. I jabbed at the button, wondering if I should be cheerful with Caleb, more talkative, something. Should I treat him like he was my husband, as if he’d returned from a routine business trip? Or should I act like he was a stranger? Because it felt like he was.

There was no handbook for this—welcoming a long-missing husband with amnesia back into one’s life.

Colin crossed into the living room, motioning for Caleb to join him. Although it gave me some breathing room in the kitchen, the open floorplan meant they were still in my line of vision as I fed Charlotte.

When she was done eating her avocado, I scattered a small handful of oat cereal on her tray. She liked to nibble and play with the food, and I looked up at the two brothers, trying to quell my anger and confusion while my daughter busied herself.

“Would either of you like breakfast? I’m happy to fix something.” I gently eased Charlotte’s hand away from her nose because I feared she was trying to stuff a piece of cereal up her nostril.

Colin shook his head, but Caleb’s eyes met mine. “Yeah, I’m pretty hungry,” he said, adding quickly, “I mean, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble at all.” Really, I wanted something to do other than stare at him. Avoid all the questions swirling in my mind.

It didn’t take me long to make breakfast—dry toast, two eggs sunny-side up, pepper, no salt, and a single slice of cantaloupe, as Caleb always liked—and I set the plate on the island counter. “Caleb,” I said quietly, looking down at the food.

“Oh! Thank you. It’s very kind of you.”

My heart sank with each formal word that spilled from his lips. I set a napkin and utensils next to the plate, and he pulled out the stool at the island.

“Wow.” His voice was tender.

“What?”

“I haven’t had eggs like this since…well, I don’t know when. In Brazil, they ate cheese and fruit for breakfast and…” He trailed off.

“I know how you like your eggs because I made them for you for years,” I replied.

He stared at me blankly. And that’s when I realized: anger was pointless. I had to try hard to let it go. His confusion, his questions about Charlotte and me, everything—it was all due to his amnesia. A factor beyond my control.

Caleb sat, then ate mouthful after mouthful. “Wow.” He looked up as I set a mug of coffee in front of him.

“Thanks, I like my coffee with—”

“Organic, grass-fed butter,” I interrupted him, reciting what he’d told me throughout our relationship. “Bulletproof coffee. Gives you energy from fat rather than carbohydrates. You always called it a ‘high-performance blend of caffeine.’ I always called it gross.”

He took a sip and groaned. I swear I got a little wet by hearing him emit a noise of pleasure, and I sucked in a breath. In the old days, such a groan would’ve earned him a kiss. Or more.

“Oh, God, thank you, Emma. Not gross. This is heavenly.” Once again, his eyes lingered on mine.

“You don’t have to keep thanking me. I’m your…” It seemed like all our sentences were difficult to complete this morning.

Caleb focused on me, and his mouth suddenly twisted, sending my stomach to the floor. “Speaking of that, I think we’re going to need to have a long discussion. I’m going to the office with Colin for an hour or two this morning, and then I have a doctor’s appointment. I’ll probably want to rest afterward. Would you have dinner with me this evening? Maybe we can hash some things out together then. I’m sure Laura will take care of Charlotte for the evening. We can go somewhere nice.”

I scowled at his matter-of-fact tone. “Do you want to be seen in public so soon after getting back? Don’t you think reporters will stalk you? Are you ready for that?”

He fixed a thoughtful gaze on me. “Good point. We should stay in. I’ll have Tom make something for us. Where is he, anyway? He’s usually here by now.”

Colin cleared his throat and rose from the sofa. “Caleb, Tom isn’t your chef anymore.”

Caleb glanced at his brother. “Where did he go?”

“You gave him seed money to open his own restaurant in Tampa,” I piped up.

Caleb’s eyes flicked to me. “Why didn’t I hire someone else?”

“Because we were either going out or doing most of the cooking. Together.”

Caleb nodded slowly and looked me up and down, his eyes igniting my body. For a beat, the air between us sizzled, and I felt my nipples tighten against the silk of my kimono.

“Very well, Emma. Then I guess that’s what we’ll do this evening.”

I
was not dressed
for a dinner at home.

My red-and-white gingham cotton dress was a 1950s silhouette, tight in the bodice, with an off-the-shoulder neckline and a full skirt. I hadn’t worn it in years and was honestly surprised it still fit. I clasped a demure choker of pearls around my neck and swept my hair up in a messy updo, with curly tendrils framing my face.

I was aiming for a touch of seduction. Maybe not a full, end-up-horizontal-in-bed seduction, because I didn’t think either one of us was quite ready for that yet.

Although I wouldn’t push him away, if that’s what he wanted.

I did want to look alluring enough to pique my husband’s interest—or, if possible, his memory. I tried on a pair of nude heels, but that was a little much for making stuffed pasta shells in my own kitchen, even for me. I slipped on pale pink ballet flats instead. I looked in the mirror and turned, sucking in my stomach. Not bad, considering everything. It was the first time I’d worn one of my vintage dresses in ages. Somehow, the retro-style didn’t seem to fit who I was anymore.

A wife. A mom. A woman with a complicated life. I shrugged at myself in the mirror. I’d deal with my wardrobe later. Or not. Because fashion no longer mattered.

My step was light as I left the master bedroom and walked into the living room.

Caleb was there—his family had collected Charlotte an hour earlier, saying they wanted us to have some “alone time”—sitting on the sofa. He looked simple and perfect, in a pair of dark-washed jeans and a black T-shirt.

He stood quickly and his mouth dropped open. “Oh! Wow.”

“You’re saying that a lot today,” I responded playfully. I didn’t want to let on that I was scared enough to throw up. It was as if we were on a first date, only during our first date, I’d been confident we’d end up in bed that evening. Tonight, I wasn’t sure what would unfold.

He stroked his chin. “Yeah. I am saying that a lot. Everything’s a surprise around here.”

I smiled, my first hurdle cleared. “Thanks.”

We stood and stared at each other, the silence between us filled with sexual static. Or so I thought. I wasn’t sure of anything anymore, truthfully. I didn’t know what to say, and he probably didn’t either. To him, I was a stranger in his house.

“I went to the store today and got everything we need for dinner. Why don’t you relax and I’ll cook?”

Caleb shook his head. “Shouldn’t I at least help?”

“If you’d like.” I shrugged. “I’ll put you to work.”

And so, for the next hour, we cooked. Was it my imagination or was he trying to get closer to me while reaching for a cutting board? He grinned and glanced at me as I moved aside, and I smiled back. I felt the old sizzle between us flare.

I had him chop garlic and an onion while I sautéed spinach and mixed cheese for stuffed shells. He reached for a garlic press to mince it finely. I’d always loved bigger chunks of garlic and lots of it. I scowled.

“What?” he said. “Do you not like garlic?”

“I do.” I smiled tightly, trying to ignore the little things he’d forgotten about me. There would be more of these, many more, I knew. I spooned the ricotta-spinach mixture into the shells.

“How did you know I loved these?” he asked, then paused. “Oh. Right. We were—
are
married.”

I smiled and slid the tray of shells into the oven. Each exchange between us made my heart race and cracked it a little more. His amnesia, at least when it came to me, was deep. And yet, he was gentlemanly, as if we
were
really on a date.

“So you’re a writer. That’s what Colin told me, and I saw some of your books on the shelf in the guest room. I love to read. And I used to write in school.”

I know
, I wanted to say. I hesitated, wondering if he’d scanned any of my erotic stories. “I
was
a writer.”

He tilted his head. “Why did you stop?”

“Because you went missing and I had our baby.”

He nodded slowly. “I see. Wine?” He held up a bottle.

“Thank you.”

He poured mine and then splashed a bit in his glass. “I’m a little afraid to drink too much.”

I frowned. “How come?”

“I guess I’m worried that I’ll lose my memory again. It’s been a really unsettling nine months. I’ll have to tell you about it sometime, I guess. It obviously feels good to have most of it back, but I’ll admit that finding out I’m…well, married and a father has come as quite a shock. More than a shock.”

“I’m sure. And I apologize that this is so awkward. I’m beyond happy that you’re home and safe.” Why was I apologizing? Jesus. I stepped closer to him.

His eyes flickered to my chest.

“Caleb, do you want to talk about Brazil? Tell me about what happened to you there?”

He shook his head. “Not really. Not now. I’m sorry. I’d rather listen to you talk about us.”

I inhaled. This was a start. “Okay. What would you like to know?”

He laughed self-consciously. “Everything.”

“Well, I guess I’ll start at the beginning.”

While the shells baked, he sat on a stool at the island counter and I talked. I paced. I gestured wildly with my hands and spoke too fast because I was nervous. It was as if I was retelling our history on a stage.

I told him how we met, at Story Brothel. How he’d come to my bookstore the day after to ask me to dinner. All about how his company had bought my bookstore building and how he didn’t know.

Caleb switched to sparkling water with lemon and listened with wide eyes as I told him how we’d become inseparable, how we went to Paris and London together. I was getting going, laughing, and telling him how, once, we’d gone kayaking on a river. I made him laugh, too, which made my heart leap. Maybe refreshing his memory was easier than expected. I’d be myself and boom! He’d fall back in love with me.