at the idea of his trying to care for her. But now he was in her home, what used to be their home. Sam’s affection for her had never been the issue. He could care for her and still not put their lives first. She wasn’t taking him back, would never take that risk again, and now sure as hell wasn’t the time to even think of such things.
Tara couldn’t concentrate on her estranged husband or the mixed emotions she still carried around. She didn’t want to think about how attentive he’d been all evening in the hospital, then showing up early this morning because he didn’t want them to be alone and he’d wanted to speak to the doctor in person.
He’d also insisted on following her and Marley home. He’d pulled her aside and told her he’d talked to his boss and was taking most of the next week off work. They still hadn’t told Marley anything was wrong with her memory. They’d agreed to get her home, get her settled and play things by ear. They didn’t want to worry her more than necessary.
And that’s precisely what Tara needed to focus on—her daughter’s recovery. Because if Tara let her fears and the unknown ending to this diagnosis consume her, she’d collapse into Sam’s arms and cling to the fairy tale that she’d once believed they had.
Falling into her husband’s arms was the last thing she should do. They were over. She’d made that clear when she’d kicked him out the night of Marley’s fourth birthday when he’d come home after missing the party. She could tell he’d been using and that had been the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.
She’d wanted to help him. Of course she had; she was his wife. More important, she was a counselor. She’d offered him multiple names to contact, but he hadn’t wanted to help himself, so there was nothing she could’ve said or done. Her family, her marriage couldn’t stay intact if only one person held everything together.
Over the past year since their separation, though, he’d checked himself into rehab in Knoxville, gotten clean and made no bones about the fact he wanted to make up for the man he’d been. He wanted to show her and Marley that he could take care of them. He’d even told her he didn’t blame her for pushing him away, but he wasn’t going to ignore his duties as their provider.
Why did he have to make things so difficult?
Case in point...the unsigned divorce papers. If he’d sign those then maybe she’d feel free, but as things stood now, she wasn’t free and she didn’t want him to think for even a second that she couldn’t manage on her own.
“I went to the store.”
Sam’s words pulled her from her thoughts. He stepped around Tara and picked Marley up; her squeal echoed through the foyer.
And just like that, Tara’s memories flooded through. She had no clue where Marley’s mind was, but Tara couldn’t ignore the rush of emotions that accompanied this entire déjà vu scene.
“Your favorite strawberry ice cream is in the freezer and I’m making tacos for dinner, Marmaid.”
He always called her Marmaid for her love of the ocean and mermaids, plus her name. Only Sam called her that...the special bond between father and daughter couldn’t be severed. Unlike Sam and Tara’s marriage.
Tara stood in place, watching Sam’s retreating form, remembering all those times he’d carried Marley around while shopping, at the annual carnival, when she’d fall asleep on the couch and he’d taken her up to bed.
Tara desperately wished she could erase her own memories of the past year. Maybe then this constant ache deep in her chest wouldn’t be so all-consuming. Just because she’d pushed him away in a tough-love moment to make him focus on getting sober didn’t mean she didn’t still love him. That’s what hurt most of all—she would always love Sam. She simply couldn’t let him in their lives again.
Wait. Sam’s parting words finally sank in. He was making dinner? As in, he wasn’t leaving anytime soon, considering they’d just been discussing breakfast?
“You can do this for Marley,” Tara whispered to herself.
The doctor had told them they needed to make things as normal as possible and as far as Marley was concerned, her parents were still living happily ever after. Thankfully her daughter didn’t recall the fourth birthday party that her father never made or that he’d shown up later that night completely out of touch with reality. Maybe this temporary memory loss was somewhat of a blessing. At least her daughter only had happy thoughts of Sam.
A motivational pep talk was necessary. How else would Tara get through having Sam in her home for the entire day? Her attraction to him hadn’t diminished. Their chemistry had never been in question. No, the problem was he’d been a workaholic, pushing himself so she could stay home because he’d thought that’s what made her happy. Not that he expected her to cook and clean and keep the house perfect. He wasn’t archaic, by any means, and fully believed they were equals on every level.
All of that work and stress ultimately led to his accident, which rolled into his pill addiction, and the downfall of the best life.
Sam had always been a devoted man and wanted to be the provider. He wanted Tara to have the freedom to do anything she wanted. He’d urged her to explore her love of art. He’d grown up an only child with a widowed mother who worked too hard to provide for her son. He’d said he never wanted his wife to feel that kind of pressure.
Damn it. She wished he’d never shown her how perfect their lives could be. Part of her wished she’d never married him. Harsh thoughts, but she’d experienced the beauty of marriage with Sam...then he ripped it all away.
Tara wasn’t sure she’d ever recover from the pain.
Pushing the past out of her thoughts, Tara focused on the here and now. She desperately needed a shower and a change of clothes.
Even though Sam had brought her yoga pants and a sweatshirt, sleeping in the vinyl chair that posed as a pullout bed had left Tara feeling not so clean or rested.
Needing to take five minutes to regroup and gather her thoughts about everything swirling around in her mind, Tara mounted the steps to her master suite. She and Sam had renovated it when they’d married, turning one of the bedrooms into a giant adjoining bath.
But as soon as she crossed the threshold to her room, she froze. A large, black, menacing suitcase sat on her bed. She knew that suitcase; she’d bought that extra suitcase for their beach trip that never came to fruition.
Dread curled low in her belly.
He wouldn’t.
Tara knew exactly what she’d find in the luggage he’d parked on her side of the mattress. As she crossed to her king-sized bed, she attempted to take in deep, slow breaths, but nothing calmed her nerves.
With a shaky hand she reached for the zipper. She flipped the top and stared at perfectly folded jeans, tees, underwear, running shoes...
Sam’s things. They even smelled like him. That familiar woodsy scent wafted up and assaulted her senses, making her stomach clench with...what? She couldn’t even label her emotions at this point—there were simply too many.
Blowing out a sigh, Tara closed her eyes and dropped her head between her shoulders. This was not happening. It couldn’t be happening. No way was Sam staying here. He could come and go as often as he wanted. She’d certainly never denied him any involvement with Marley. On that they had always agreed. But he would not be staying in her home while Marley recovered.
Surely he wasn’t using Marley’s condition to try to come back? He hadn’t signed the divorce papers, so did that mean he thought there was a chance? He hadn’t made a move on her since coming out of rehab; he hadn’t tried to push his way into their lives. In all honesty, he’d been the perfect gentleman. She hadn’t known what to expect. They’d been so passionate early in their relationship so now things always seemed odd...strained.
Tara bounded down the stairs and headed toward the kitchen. Sam stood at the island with a bowl, eggs and