Reunited By Their Pregnancy Surprise

CHAPTER THREE (#u31ac17c8-c490-5205-b287-fc7855c28e75)

THE NEXT DAY a young man called Matt came to Sam’s room to help him ‘mobilise’. He was in the middle of trying not to feel too dizzy and light-headed after standing up for the first time when Emily came into his room.

His heart soared at seeing her, despite all his dark thoughts the previous night. She looked fresh and bright, a bohemian chic angel, as if she’d had a really good night’s sleep, and she developed a huge smile on her face when she saw him standing up, holding onto a walker.

‘You’re up!’

‘Not for long.’ Sam collapsed down onto the bed and let out a heavy breath, clutching his head as if to steady it.

Matt cocked his head to one side. ‘Dizzy?’

‘Yeah, a little.’

‘It’ll pass if you take it easy. Try this: whilst you’re sitting down, really push your feet into the floor and flex and release your calf muscles. It’ll help pump the blood around your system and prevent a blood pressure drop next time you stand.’

Emily stood by his side and hesitantly laid a supportive hand upon his shoulder. She smelt minty fresh and was wearing a perfume he didn’t recognise, but liked.

He looked up at her, expecting her to kiss him hello, but she didn’t. Because of Matt’s presence? It seemed unlikely. But now that she was here he wanted to show her what he could do. Show her that he was going to get stronger every day. He wanted to be back on his feet. He wanted to be up and about again. Working. Being Sam. He hated being stuck in a hospital bed.

Gripping the walker once again, Sam stood. Slower this time. He took a moment to make sure the dizziness wasn’t about to make him collapse onto the floor and then pushed the walker to one side and took a step forward. Matt stood close, ready to steady him if needed.

Who knew lying on your back for ten days after a head injury would make you feel as weak as a baby bird? After just a few steps he was ready to sit down, but Sam was determined to push through. He kept going. Made it across the room, out of the door to the nurses’ station and back again. By the time he got back to his bed he was exhausted, sweating as if he’d just done a full day’s training in the gym, and he sank back onto the mattress with a broad grin on his face.

Matt smiled. ‘So...you’re one of those people.’

Sam raised an eyebrow in question.

‘Type A. High achiever. It’s good, but you also need to know when to stop.’

Emily sat beside him on the bed and passed him a towel to freshen up with. ‘He’s always pushed himself and strived for the best.’

‘Yes, well, just keep an eye on that blood pressure. It won’t always be as low as it was about five minutes ago.’

‘I’m fine, Matt. Honestly. I won’t stop pushing until I’m in my own home.’

Matt nodded. ‘And probably not even then. I’ll come back later, after your evening meal, and we’ll do some more. In the meantime, rest. You’re allowed to get up to use the bathroom only.’ Matt saluted him and walked away.

Emily peered into his eyes. ‘Do you remember home?’

Sam looked at her, tempted just to ignore the question and kiss her. Having her this close to him, smelling as good as she did, looking as beautiful as she did...

He reached up and tucked a strand of her choppy blonde hair behind her ear. ‘Are we still in the apartment? The two-bedroom place with the sliding doors out onto the balcony? View across the city?’

He could picture that quite clearly. It wasn’t a problem. He very much wanted to get back there.

But the slump in Emily’s shoulders informed him that it wasn’t the right answer. ‘No. We don’t live there any more.’

Sam tried to think hard. To force memories to the surface. But he couldn’t. It was as if there was a thick wall in his head, blocking them, and no matter how hard he pounded against it, no matter how ferociously he yelled at it and fought to knock it down, it resolutely remained.

‘Then where?’

‘We have a house in Beverly Hills now. You found it for us. It’s white. Very neo-classical—columns, balconies, topiaries, big doors...that sort of thing.’

He tried to imagine it, but was more concerned with the way she’d described it. ‘You don’t seem to like it.’

‘I do. It’s just...’ She paused for a moment, looking down at the cover on his bed and straightening out a ripple on the surface. ‘I guess we haven’t made it ours yet.’ She smiled weakly, but then stood up and tried to become more upbeat. ‘But look at you! Only woke yesterday and already you’re pounding the floors of the hospital!’

He could tell she wasn’t telling him everything. Did she not like their home? Was it a place that he’d liked and pushed her into buying? There was something...

But he dismissed it quickly as he thought of his triumph without the walker and stood up again, pulling her into his arms, searching her gorgeous blue-green eyes for that quirky happy girl he knew so well.

‘I’ve missed you.’

She wrapped her arms around his waist hesitantly, as if it was something she hadn’t done in a long time, as if she was trying not to make it seem like she was pulling away.

But why would that be? They’d only been married a short time—surely they were still very physical?

‘Kiss me.’

‘Sam! The physio said you should be resting. You need to get back into bed!’

‘And I will! But only if my wife joins me.’ Sam tilted her chin up and showed her a cheeky grin before he brought his lips to hers.

The last time he’d kissed her had been... Well, just after she’d accepted his proposal. In his mind, anyway. And he was still full of that celebratory need to show her how much he loved her, despite all that had happened—the car crash, the pregnancy, the head injury, the amnesia. As far as he knew he’d only just slipped that ring onto her finger and he was feeling full to the brim with happiness.

However...

They were married. And expecting a baby. So surely they had to be getting along. And, despite his trepidation, his fears and his doubts, there was one thing clear in his mind. His love for Emily. And right now he felt that he needed her. The last few hours had been a lot to take in. To believe he had lost two whole years of his life was...mind-blowing. His pet project—his dream—the Monterey Birth Centre had opened and begun trading all without his knowledge.

Okay, so technically he’d been there. He’d orchestrated it, arranged it, even shown up to work there, apparently, but that was just what Emily had told him had happened. As far as he was concerned it still hadn’t happened, and whilst he was stuck in this hospital life would continue to carry on without him. He needed to get home. Needed to see the Monterey in action. Needed to think about how he and Emily would tackle their new challenges.

He pulled back and looked into his wife’s eyes. ‘I can’t wait to get home.’

She seemed breathless, her eyes glazed. ‘Me too.’

* * *

It took two weeks before the hospital was even prepared to consider releasing Sam. In that time he received lots of welcome visitors—Emily, his parents, his siblings, some colleagues that, to him, were still relative strangers. Those visits were weird. He underwent a barrage of assessments—physiological, neurological, biological. He felt like every part of him had been poked and prodded or had blood drawn from it, and when that wasn’t happening he had visits from occupational therapists, psychologists, neurologists and the surgical team, who’d given him the low-down on his small procedure.

Most importantly, throughout it all, he had remained stable and his observations had been normal. He was ready now. Anxious to leave the hospital walls and get home. Desperate to get back and see if being there would spark anything.

No memories had yet returned, despite Em’s frequent visits with accompanying photos and videos of their wedding and the opening of the Monterey. She’d been so keen to show him what they had done. What they had enjoyed. But it had been like looking at photos of a stranger, even though he was in them. It had left him feeling disconcerted. As if he was in a strange bubble.

The waiting to leave hospital was more than a little infuriating, and over the last few days he’d found himself snapping at various people. The psychology team had reassured him and Emily that this was normal, as he adjusted to his new self and situation, and offered to assess him every month, for as long as he felt the need to talk about it. Mood swings, apparently, were to be expected.

He wasn’t sure he did want to talk about it. Not to them, anyway. They’d already cottoned on to the fact that he didn’t seem delighted at the idea of becoming a father, and he’d grown to hate his sessions with them, knowing that they would return to the questions he dreaded. He’d even tried sharing his frustration with Emily, but it seemed as if she didn’t know anything about Serena.

Was that possible? That they’d been married for eighteen months and he hadn’t told her? That had kept him silent on all fronts and contributed to his anger.