Panic clawed at her throat, and she could feel the cold, dry air hitting her eyes as they grew wider than normal. “Like amnesia?”
“Not exactly.” Craig rubbed the scarred area of his neck. “The doctor called it something else, but it’s similar. She can probably explain it to you way better than I can.”
Craig stood up, and his cowboy boots clicked against the floor as he strode over to the open curtain and waved down a hospital employee in surgical scrubs. Caroline couldn’t hear what he was saying, but his thumb gestured her way and her gaze traveled from his hand down his tan, muscular forearms to where his red plaid work shirt was rolled to the elbows. Because of the way he was standing, Caroline could only study him from a side angle, but as she took in his well-rounded shoulders and flat abs and long, strong legs encased in faded denim, she couldn’t help but wonder how in the world she could possibly have forgotten a perfect form like his.
When he pivoted to walk back toward Caroline, her tummy dropped and she got light-headed again. The view from the front was just as good as the one from the side. Heat flooded her cheeks and she asked, “Do you think I could possibly have a drink of water?”
“I asked the doctor about you being able to eat or drink when you woke up and she said only a sip of water until after your CT scan. She doesn’t anticipate you needing any sort of surgery, but they haven’t ruled it out yet.”
The mention of surgery should’ve had her concerned. Instead, a sense of relief blossomed inside her chest. It was reassuring that her fiancé knew her well enough to understand that she’d be worried about eating and drinking and obviously had taken steps to provide answers for her. Maybe she’d even told him the story about her dad’s gallbladder surgery and the soft-serve ice cream. It was crazy to think that this man beside her was probably privy to all of her secrets and all of her needs. Now if only she could recall some of his preferences—besides candy, obviously—then they’d be on equal footing.
Craig picked up a water bottle from the bedside tray table and unscrewed the plastic cap before gently holding it to her lips. “Not too much, now.”
As she drank, she made the mistake of lifting her eyes to his face and was hit with such an intense attraction that she swallowed way too quickly and began coughing. Craig used the back of his hand to wipe the water that had dribbled down her chin. It was such an intimate gesture, not necessarily in a sexual way but in the way someone would take care of a loved one.
Something warm spread through Caroline’s body. She was loved. By this man. While the feeling wasn’t entirely familiar to her, it was certainly exciting. And very welcome. After all, Caroline had known that she wanted to be a wife and a mother since kindergarten, when she and five-year-old Scott Sullivan had staged a mock wedding during recess. Unfortunately, they’d barely gotten through the first-grade minister’s line of “You may kiss the bride,” before the teacher had put a stop to things and called Caroline’s and Scott’s parents to inform them that students needed to keep their hands—and their lips—to themselves at school. When her mother asked why she’d wanted to marry Scott Sullivan, Caroline had told her that he was the only boy who wasn’t playing handball that day. After that, Rita Rodriguez, department chair for Women and Gender Studies at Wellesley College, had made her daughter promise that she would never settle for a man.
And Caroline never did again. In fact, she hadn’t so much as had a boyfriend because every guy she’d ever gone out with hadn’t felt like “the one.”
So, while she couldn’t remember a thing about the handsomely rugged cowboy before her, Caroline had every confidence that she belonged with him. Unlike her recess-length courtship with the first available kindergartner, there was a powerful emotional connection between Caroline and Craig. Because of her absent memory, she didn’t understand it right that second but she felt it deep in her core. In twenty-three years, her instincts had never led her astray, and even her normally evidence-based mother had to admit that when Caroline felt something, she really felt it. In fact, after her college graduation, Caroline’s father had given her a framed quote by Charles Dickens that read “A loving heart is the truest wisdom.”
Her mother hated that quote.
Luckily, her parents were currently in India, her mom conducting research on the history and success of matriarchal tribes as her father compiled literary works by the lesser-known authors of the British colonies. Which meant they were too far away to question her every decision.
“How’s everyone feeling in here?” Dr. Robinson asked, sliding back the partition.
Craig immediately stood up, because, of course, he would. As if Caroline would ever pick a guy who wasn’t a complete gentleman at all times. However, his current white-knuckle grip on the bedside rail suggested his good manners were also helping to mask his discomfort and the nervous way his eyes were looking everywhere but at her.
“I’m still a little fuzzy on some things,” Caroline replied before reaching out the hand not connected to the oxygen wires and placing it over Craig’s. His fingers were warm, his skin slightly rough and very bronzed—probably from working outside or wherever it was that he worked. Caroline would worry about remembering those kinds of details later. She didn’t want to make her fiancé feel awkward or unimportant. That was why her smile wasn’t forced when she added, “But I’m content and comfortable for now.”
Dr. Robinson nodded before looking away, lines scrunching across her otherwise smooth brow. Caroline followed the woman’s gaze in time to see Craig give a brief shake of his head.
They were obviously referring to the fact that she hadn’t fully regained her memory and Caroline wanted to kick her feet in frustration like a petulant child. But her legs were tucked in under a weight of blankets, reminding her of the utter lack of power she had over both her mind and body. “So when can I go home?”
“Well, the radiology tech is on his way now. After the CT scan, we’d like you to stay the night so we can keep an eye on your concussion. As long as all the tests come back negative, I don’t see any reason why you couldn’t go home tomorrow.”
Caroline didn’t even realize she was now clutching Craig’s hand until his fingers slid through hers and squeezed with reassurance. “I’ve never stayed the night in a hospital before.”
“Nothing to worry about.” Dr. Robinson tsk-tsked, reminding Caroline of her Nan, who made that sound anytime she thought her granddaughter was too skinny and not eating enough. The physician nodded toward Craig. “And your man here said he plans to stay the night with you. So between him and all our nurses, you’ll never be alone.”
“You’re going to stay?” Caroline smiled at Craig and his eyes seemed to turn a darker shade of blue.
He cleared his throat and focused on the blood pressure machine beeping behind her. “Um, if that would make you feel more comfortable. Sure.”
If she had the full use of her faculties, Caroline would probably be able to better guess at what the man was thinking. However, she had absolutely no clue what her fiancé’s normal response would be in a situation like this. Did he really want to stay? Or was he just being polite? Judging by the forced expression on his face, Caroline would assume the latter. But before she could let him off the hook, the tech showed up to take her for the CT scan.
As the hospital employee maneuvered her hospital bed through the corridors, Craig walked beside Caroline, her bright pink tote bag looped over one of his broad shoulders. She recognized the purse as the one she’d picked out this morning to go with her new heels and had to swallow a giggle at how much it clashed with his red plaid shirt.
But when it got caught in the elevator door behind him, Caroline could no longer hold in her laughter. “Do you always carry my purse