REMEMBER US: A Billionaire Romance (Part Two) Read Free Page A

as I’d been doing these last few weeks. I couldn’t wait to have my body back. This broken thing felt wrong, like it belonged to someone else. When I looked in the mirror, I didn’t know the woman looking back. My hair was growing, but it was still so short—like a little boy’s cut. But my collarbone was finally healed—though it still ached from time to time—and my ribs were good. If I could just get this leg to heal…
    I stood in front of the mirror in the bedroom that had been my primary space since leaving the hospital and stared at the summer dress I was wearing. It flowed nicely from my shoulders, the thin, white material making my pale skin look healthier than it really was. I don’t know what was more exciting: that I’d gotten myself dressed without having to call for Xander to fix my buttons or zipper, or that I was looking at myself in the mirror without the wheelchair I’d grown to hate.
    Independence was an amazing thing.
    There was still pain when I walked, but not nearly as much as there had been weeks ago when I first left the hospital. And it was clunky. But it wasn’t as if I was going to a ball anytime soon.
    I stepped out of the bedroom and slipped out a back door to the impressive porch that flowed from one end of the house to the other. I loved being outside. It probably came from growing up with a father who was a large animal vet. While my parents were caring for the horses and cows belonging to their clients, I was running around the ranches, dogs and horses some of my closest friends.
    I curled up in a chair in a sunbeam, enjoying the late afternoon heat on my face. My mom used to say I was a cat in another life because I’d always enjoyed bathing in sunlight. She might be right.
    My accident happened almost two months ago. Yet, I still had no memory of the last three years. There were little flashes here and there, but nothing concrete. My memories of the night Xander proposed were the closest I’d come to remembering anything substantial. And that had this fuzziness around the edges that suggested there was something still missing.
    I was beginning to worry that I would never remember.
    Xander was wonderful. He didn’t push me, but he was always ready with answers when I had questions. When I wanted time alone, he left me alone. When I wanted to hang out with him, he made himself available. I couldn’t imagine a man being any more considerate to a woman. And that confused the hell out of me.
    Why had I called off the wedding? So what if he was married before?
    I knew there had to be more to the story. However, I didn’t know how to figure out what that was.
    “Harley? There you are!”
    I turned and watched as Margaret Wallace walked around the side of the house toward me. She was wearing an expensive dress that was clearly not designed to be worn anywhere near nature, along with a pair of sunglasses that made her look vaguely like Jackie O. I wanted to laugh, as I watched her nearly trip over a low rose bush, but I bit it back. I didn’t know Margaret that well, but I knew her reputation. She was one of the hottest authorities on modern art in the country at the moment. At least, she was three years ago. And she owns the art gallery where every up-and-coming artist wants his or her stuff shown. I would have done just about anything, three years ago, to have my stuff shown in her gallery. So it was a little unreal for me to realize that I’d been working for her for months and that we’re actually friends of some sort.
    “I’ve been knocking on the door,” Margaret said, as she fell into a chair beside me. “I thought you’d gone out or something.”
    I patted my boot. “This is much easier, but I still can’t drive.”
    “I’m surprised Xander hasn’t hired a driver for you.”
    I smiled because he’d offered. However, I turned him down, not wanting to be a financial burden on him—even though it was pretty obvious he could afford it.
    “So, we’re opening the