Page 7 of Lust & Lies

NOELLE

PUSHING NAUGHTY THOUGHTS aside, I rushed forward to follow Aiden before he could turn the corner. He led me through a couple of more elegant rooms and then to a large brown door.

“This is it,” he told me before opening the door and stepping into the room.

I followed him inside. My smile was instant. My face lit up as I stared around the room, taking in the décor. Now, this felt like me. This room.... This room was perfect. The windows were tall, framed in black, open just enough for a light breeze to move through.

A small garden sat just beyond the windows, allowing the scent of lavender and mint to drift into the room.

“There’s already a garden,” I pointed out.

“We have a gardener who keeps it up. You love the smell of lavender, and you always add mint to your coffee and tea. So he keeps this garden going just for you. We’ll start on the vegetable garden once you feel up to it.”

I wanted to walk out into the garden, but I also wanted to take in more of the room. I chose the room. I turned in a circle, trying to absorb it all. Bookshelves lined the walls. And though the shelves weren’t full of books yet, someone, maybe me, had already started putting books on the shelves.

In the corner of the room were two big boxes with the words Noe’s Books written on them. My books! If I smiled any harder, my jaw would start aching. The room was adorable and not flashy or showy.

Forest green couches and beige ottomans decorated the space. The couches looked comfy, deep enough to sink into and curl up with a good book. And apparently, I loved pillows because there were a lot of them.

A couple had hearts on them, along with my initials and Aiden’s. I guess I was also a fan of monogramming. My gaze moved back to the bookshelves. And that’s when I saw them. The photos.

There were so many of them. How had I not noticed them before? A few were on the shelves, some hanging on the walls, and a couple were framed and seated on the side tables. They were pictures of me and Aiden.

Pictures of us laughing, walking, kissing. I stepped closer to one of the shelves and reached for a photo that was inside a silver frame with flowers etched into it. Our wedding photo.

I was in a beautiful white dress that looked like something out of a fairy tale. I rubbed my finger over my face. I looked so pretty. My gaze moved to Aiden. There was no denying it, this man was attractive as hell in his tux.

His arms were around me, and while I was beaming at the camera, he was staring down at me. Had the cameraman told him to do that, or had he been unable to tear his eyes away from his beautiful bride? We looked happy in this photo, like we belonged to each other.

“You were a beautiful bride,” Aiden said from behind me.

I blinked back tears and set the photo down. Yet, I couldn’t tear my gaze away from it, away from him, and the way he was staring at me in the picture.

“A wedding day is a girl’s most important day. Yet, I don’t remember this.”

“You will,” he promised, sounding more confident than I felt.

“I hope so,” I whispered, wanting to remember the life we shared, wanting to remember the man who smiled down at me with so much love in his eyes.

He stepped closer and brushed a strand of hair away from my face. His fingers paused, hovering close before he lowered his hand.

“Sorry,” he apologized.

There he goes, apologizing again.

I turned to face him and gasped. He was right there. Closer than I expected. I almost took a step back. My body pulled at me to move, to put some distance between us. But I remained rooted in place. His eyes searched mine. Watching me. Waiting to see what I’d do.

I know he expected a certain reaction from me. He expected me to recoil, which was why he’d apologized in the first place. I wasn’t going to recoil this time. My gaze dropped to his mouth, lingering there a second longer than necessary.

I just couldn’t get that kiss out of my head. Cheeks heating, I returned my gaze to his. He hadn’t moved. Yet, something had changed. It was his eyes that gave him away. There was desire in them. Controlled, restrained, but there.

He was holding back. For me. He was a husband who wanted to touch his wife. Who wanted to hug his wife. Who wanted to be hugged and loved by his wife. But his wife didn’t remember him.

And he was constantly having to apologize for doing the things he was used to doing because those things made his wife uncomfortable. Poor Aiden. I was the one who’d gotten into an accident and lost my memory.

But he’d lost the wife he’d once known. And because he was my husband, he was forced to take care of me, forced to watch me recoil, step away, avoid him. Yeah, I was struggling. But so was he.

“You don’t have to keep apologizing for touching me,” I told him. “You’re not doing anything wrong. It’s me. I’m the one who has to get used to being around you again. Being close to you.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Honestly, none of this feels comfortable to me. I can’t even get comfortable in my own skin right now, let alone around someone else.

But the only way that changes is if I let you in.

The only way I can become more comfortable being with you is by being with you.

So, stop apologizing for touching me. I.

..” I swallowed, unable to believe I was about to say this. “I trust you to be patient with me.”

“You trust me?” he asked, eyes widening.

I nodded. No hesitation this time. Trust was earned. And so far, he’d done nothing to hurt me. He’d only been kind and protective. I was the one second-guessing everything he did. Turning his kindness into suspicion.

I couldn’t keep doing that. All it did was add more pressure to an already stressful situation. Just like he was being patient with me, I had to be patient with myself and with him. Together, we had to take this one day at a time.

The memories would return. I believed they would. I would work hard to make them come back. I’d hate to ruin my marriage before that happened simply because I was too impatient.

The pictures in this room told a story I didn’t remember. However, it wasn’t a story I was opposed to. I wanted to feel happy like the version of me in those photos. I wanted to be loved the way she was loved.

The man in those photos wanted the same thing. We weren’t enemies. We were partners. And until I had proof of otherwise, I needed to treat him like he was my partner and not my enemy. Because he wasn’t my enemy, right? Right? I shook that thought off.

“I can’t promise I won’t tense up again,” I told him. “Or that I won’t do something that will seem out of character for the version of me you know and love. But I’ll try my best not to treat you like a stranger. I’ll try to be less guarded.”

“I’m not asking you to let your guard down, Noelle. You have every right to be cautious. Your mind may not remember everything right now, but the desire to protect yourself is an instinct we all possess. Don’t silence that instinct for me.”

“But...”

“Sweetie, trust your instincts. Right now, I’m keeping those you have contact with to a minimum because it’s the doctor’s orders.

But once you start remembering things, more people will return to our lives.

I want you to listen to what your instincts tell you about them, not what I tell you.

There may be people who’ve hurt you, and you haven’t told me about it.

I would hate to bring those people into your world unknowingly and cause you pain.

So trust yourself. If your heart tells you to be wary of someone, be wary of them. Even if that person is me.”

“But, you’re my husband.”

Aiden smiled. “What happened to the alleged part?”

One kiss seemed to have gotten rid of it.

I nodded at the pictures. “I can’t deny the truth when it’s staring me in the face.”

“That’s true,” he said. “Even so, trust your instincts.”

“That’s contradictory to what you told me before. Earlier, you told me to trust you.”

He nodded. “I know. I still want that. But I’m realizing that you have to trust yourself before you can fully trust me.”

“But that’s just it. I can’t trust myself. I don’t even know what’s real and what’s not. And...” I swallowed, blinking back tears.

He placed his hands on my shoulders. “Stop rushing things, Noelle. Today is your first day out of the hospital. You can’t conquer your mind or emotions in one day.

Baby, just focus on healing. The rest will come.

And don’t worry about me. I won’t be offended if you recoil from my touch or step away from my embrace because I know in time, I’ll earn your trust again.

I’ll win your heart again. I’m willing to woo Noelle Park all over again because she’s worth it. You got that?”

I nodded. My eyes burned, but I held the tears in.

“I just... I see those pictures and I want that. I want to be happy,” I told him. “I want you to be happy, too. I know we won’t get there in one day. But, I believe we will get there.”

I hoped we got there, because this confusion and doubt were a strain on me that I couldn’t wait to be free of. His hand lifted slowly. His eyes stayed locked on mine, waiting for any sign from me that he should stop.

There wasn’t one. I didn’t move. I didn’t blink.

I stood there, awaiting his touch. He placed his palm against my cheek, the touch light, careful.

His thumb moved slowly across my skin, wiping away a tear that had dared fall.

I let him touch me. In fact, I found myself leaning into his touch, craving the contact.

“Noelle,” he whispered.

“I’m here. Not fully. Not yet. But I’m here.”

The air between us crackled with tension. Neither of us moved. Neither of us looked away. He stared at me like he wanted more, but didn’t dare act on it. I looked at him and felt the same.

Yet, I didn’t think I was ready for that. However, I was tired of being so guarded. And while I wouldn’t let my walls down completely, I was going to try to let him in. Talking with him calmed some of my anxieties.

In time, the rest would wash away. At least, that’s what I hoped would happen as I worked on healing. We stood still, both of us holding back but neither of us pulling away. This was progress.

“Let’s make a promise right here in your favorite room,” he told me.

“What’s the promise?” I asked.

“Let’s promise to take things one day at a time. If you have any concerns and fears, you won’t hold them in. You’ll tell me about them.”

“And you’ll tell me if you have any concerns too, right?”

“Right,” he replied.

“I promise,” I whispered.

“I promise, too, baby.”

Right there, in front of our wedding photo, Aiden and I vowed to get through this together. But the mood was ruined when my stomach growled. And not a little growl. It was a roar.

Aiden’s gaze dropped, landing squarely on my midsection. His eyebrows lifted just slightly, and for the first time all day, I felt truly embarrassed.

He looked back up at me. “Someone’s hungry.”

I pressed a hand to my stomach, cheeks heating. “I guess I am.”

The corner of his mouth tugged into a smile. “Come on. I’ll cook us something.”

I blinked. “You can cook?”

“If I didn’t, we’d starve to death,” he said with a smirk.

Then he reached for my hand. I didn’t even think twice before placing my palm against his. His fingers wrapped around mine, and as we walked, I realized he’d just revealed something else about our life together.

Apparently, I didn’t cook. He did. I looked over at him. This man was just too good to be true. That nagging feeling crept back in, the one that made me want to question everything. I tapped it down.

I couldn’t get suspicious of him for treating me right. I wasn’t going to pick apart the good just because I didn’t know how to accept it yet. One day at a time. One moment at a time. Eventually, I’d get used to being next to Aiden Park.

He led me to the kitchen, which was far larger than I’d expected. Cabinets lined the walls, every one of them a deep charcoal color with brass handles that caught the light. The backsplash was done in this clean herringbone tile, soft white and gray.

A long island sat in the middle of the room, topped with a pale stone counter. The brass faucet matched the drawer handles. Even the range hood was gold. The lighting overhead added a gold glow to the room, unlike the white bulbs that had been in the other rooms.

Though this was Aiden’s domain, I’m pretty sure I was the one who designed it. I couldn’t remember ever using the word herringbone tile, but I’d recognized it as soon as I saw it.

So, maybe I had decorated this entire place. Maybe I did like this type of décor. I mean, it was beautiful. I liked it. But it was a tad bit showy, just like the main room. Aiden pulled out a stool at the island.

“Sit. I’ll cook.”

I sat, resting my elbows on the counter, chin in my palm. He moved easily around the kitchen, pulling out vegetables, a cutting board, and a wok. The wok hit the stove with a soft clink.

“Want me to wash the vegetables?” I asked.

“No, Mrs. Park. I want you to sit there, rest, and look beautiful.”

I chuckled. “Yes, sir, Mr. Park.”

He looked up at me and winked, then started washing the vegetables. His flirty behavior had my heart doing a little jig in my chest. I swear my emotions were all over the place when it came to this man.

I didn’t say anything as he worked. I just watched. His sleeves were already pushed back, and I found myself staring at his arms as he chopped the veggies. The soft thud of blade on board filled the room.

He was talking to me, saying something about how stir fry was a quick and easy meal and how I used to request it once a week. I should’ve been listening. But I was too focused on the way his muscles flexed as he chopped.

Aiden smiled while he worked. I hadn’t seen him this relaxed before. There was something about it that pulled me in. Something that made me feel like I’d sat here before, watching him do this exact same thing.

Something flickered in the back of my mind. Not a full memory. Just a moment. Quick. Blurry. But definitely there. I could almost feel the emotions I’d felt that day. I could hear my laughter.

I could smell the food being cooked. I could hear the chopping as he cut up vegetables. See his lips as he smiled at me while he cooked. I closed my eyes, trying to hold on to the memory, trying to focus harder on it.

The image clung to the edges of my mind.

We were in a different kitchen. A smaller one.

In my memory, Aiden turned to me and handed me a glass of wine.

I stared up into his face. Wait. My breath caught in my throat as my eyes popped open.

The man in that memory, the man smiling at me, cooking for me. ..

He wasn’t Aiden.