Free Just Married...Again by Charlotte Hughes Page B

personal physician keeps me up-to-date on nutritional plans for diabetes, heart disease, high blood pressure, even various forms of cancer. I’ll be glad to discuss your diet with you.”
    “But you won’t take me on as a client.”
    “That’s correct.”
    “Even if it means the difference between life and death?”
    “I’ll be happy to refer you to another fitness trainer who has more experience than I do.”
    “That’s not very professional of you, Maddy. You’re letting personal feelings get in the way.”
    “Once you’ve regained your memory, you’ll understand why I feel the way I do.”
    Michael wished he didn’t have to worry about it at all. He remembered a time in high school he could wolf down several fried eggs and a half pound of bacon with a tall stack of toast slathered in real butter and not gain an ounce. In college and law school he’d lived off junk and fast food; he’d barely had time to toss something into his mouth much less cook, in between work and school and all the studying he’d had to do. He remembered the healthy, wholesome dinners Maddy had cooked when they’d lived together. She knew how to prepare food so that he could eat a low-fat diet and not feel he was missing anything. He’d been in pretty good shape, too.
    Of course, there were other perks to living with her. Like climbing into bed at night and finding her next to him, smelling like something out of this world. Maddy was all woman, and she knew how to take care of herself. She had every kind of bath oil and specialty soap you could think of—lavender, magnolia blossom, gardenia—and a dozen different sponges and gizmos for washing that he could never remember what they were called. And there were sweet-smelling candles and potpourri in every room, sachets in her drawers and closet that gave off a pleasant scent. The condo had smelled like a flower garden when she’d lived there; now, you walked in the front door and thought you were in a beer joint or pizza parlor.
    He used to love to watch her fuss with herself, primp before a mirror, paint her toenails, pluck her eyebrows, and rub lotion all over. Everything about her fascinated him; she was so perfect in every way. Making love to her was a wonderfully sensuous experience. He knew he would never tire of her.
    But there were only so many hours in a day, and after years of spending most of them working, he’d gradually had less and less energy for his wife. He dragged in late each night, ate a few bites, and went to bed. Their lovemaking became infrequent, and they’d had little time for conversation. He remembered looking at her from across the breakfast table one morning and feeling very sad because they had drifted apart.
    The worst part was not knowing what to do about it, the hurt and disappointment he saw in her eyes every time he looked at her. When he was home, he worried about his cases at the office; at work he worried about his marriage. She began locking the bathroom door when she bathed, and he stopped reaching for her as often in the night. Sometimes, after they made love and he’d turned over to go to sleep, he thought he heard her crying.
    Then she’d become pregnant, and all communication had shut down. He’d accused her of doing it on purpose, of trying to punish him for the long hours he worked. Hadn’t he made it perfectly clear from the beginning that he didn’t want children? Didn’t they have enough stress in their lives, without adding to it?
    He knew how destructive children were, how they wreaked havoc on a marriage. He’d watched his own poor parents deal with five boys. If the carpet and furniture weren’t proof enough, all he had to do was look at his mother’s weary face and the perpetual scowl on his father’s. Michael could not remember a single time when he was growing up that his parents had gone to dinner or to a movie together.
    He had not wanted those hardships in his own marriage. The luxury condominium Maddy’s