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Her chest rose and fell and the calm she cloaked herself with shattered.
Christian thought she’d bolt out of his reach, out of shock if nothing else. He hated the thought of her being scared of him. Despised it.
A fire he’d never seen before burned in her gaze as she held his in the mirror. “Why didn’t you come back once you recovered from the plane crash? Howcouldyou stay away? After what happened with Jai, how could you be so cruel as to let me go on thinking,even for one damned day more, that I’d lost you, too?”
He touched her then, the anguish in her words pulling him along.
She was cold and shaking and he pressed his fingers deeper into her shoulders. It felt as if he’d touched a live wire. Her skin was soft and silky to touch. “I was in a coma for two years after I washed up ashore. Stuck in a corner bed in some hospital on Saint Martin, dependent on the charity and goodwill of strangers. This French nurse... She looked after me, I was told, with devotion I’m sure I didn’t deserve. After I regained consciousness, I had no idea who I was.” He leaned his forehead against the back of her head, his breaths coming shallow again. “My mind’s been blank for so long, Pree—like a dark, long, stretch of the ocean I couldn’t cross however hard I swam...”
He shuddered at the memory of how thick and biting that darkness had been.
The tips of her fingers reached his, barely touching, but reminding him he wasn’t alone in that unblinking darkness anymore. Christian sensed her hesitation as clearly as the thud of his heartbeat. Her ache for him was written across her lovely features.
He continued, wanting to get it over with. “Two days ago, I saw your face on an old newspaper. Wrapped up around a piece of fried fish. It was from the tech convention in London two months ago. Your name was under it in big letters—Priya Mikkelsen. Everything fell into place, as if someone had suddenly played a reel of my entire life and forced me to watch. You and Grandpa and Jai and...” He swallowed, trying to keep emotion out of his tone. “It was as if a curtain had suddenly been pulled back. It took me this long to put enough funds together to buy the plane ticket home.”
She didn’t move or speak for a long time. For all the reflections of her face in the mirrors around him, he had no idea what she was thinking. The silence that surrounded them didn’t feel uncomfortable or awkward though. Didn’t feel like that unending quiet in his head that he had hated so much.
They stood like that for a long time, almost touching but not quite.
“Tear it off,” she said suddenly, the words rupturing the quiet. “The dress, now. I think I’ve wasted enough time walking around in it like some hapless waif.”
If he felt a sliver of disappointment in his gut, Christian shoved it away. Priya had never been one for elaborate words or expressing effusive sentiments. And he had no doubt today had taken a toll on her.
Damn it, he’d wanted to remember his life, himself. He’d wanted to be back with his family for eight long years. Still, watching her walk up to the house had shaken him, in more ways than one. He wasn’t going to expect anything from her and definitely not some falsely sweet words. And yet, there was a part of him that wanted everything, whatever the hell that meant.
“It doesn’t suit you anymore.”
“What?” Her question zoomed out of her mouth like it had gossamer wings made of need and longing.
“The waif look. Like an ill-fitting dress one grows out of.”
Her eyes flared wide. “So you’re still in possession of your senses, then.”
“Would you have tossed me out if I wasn’t? If I’d shown up here, blank as a slate, not right in the head?”
“Don’t inflict that self-indulgent drama on me, Christian. I’m not Jai to put up with it.”
“There were days when I thought I’d lose my mind. When I thought hope might be the thing that would kill me.”
Instant regret filled her eyes. “I’m so—”
“Don’t,” he said, shaking his head. “Don’t apologize for things you didn’t even know about.”
“How did you... How did you stand it?”
“Will you look at me differently if I tell you?”
“Christian—”
“Don’t... Don’t hold your punches, Pree. Don’t treat me differently now.”
She held his gaze, stubbornly denying him. “How did you get by on those days?”
“There was this gut feeling all the time. That said there was someone waiting for me. That... I couldn’t just give up.” Some instinct of self-preservation made him stop there. “It told me I was too brilliant to be just a woodworker.”
She scoffed gently, recognizing the dig he’d made at himself.
“That’s what my nurse guessed. After studying my hands,” he said, holding out his palms.
