Chapter 4

Chapter

Four

DAPHNE

“Sorry, sorry,” I say to Apollo as I drive over another speed bump in our gated community too fast, causing the car to jolt more than I intended.

I don’t know why I’m treating him as if he’s fragile and can break any second. Every bump we hit on the road has me apologizing and glancing over to see if I caused a grimace or if I added to his pain level in any way. When the doctor released him from the hospital, I was relieved but also worried that I wouldn’t know what to do or how to care for him. The doctor gave him orders to take it easy and allow his wife to “love on him.” Ha. Like that would happen. Clearly, the doctor doesn’t know who Apollo Godwin is, and that he doesn’t allow anyone to do anything for him. But I was still willing and eager to do whatever the doctor said. The man nearly died, was in a coma, lost his brother, and now he gets to come home as if nothing happened and he was in tiptop shape.

But how could that be? How could he walk away with a few wounds and a gash to the head while his brother and the pilot died? Apollo should have died. Any mortal would have. But then again… He is a god among men, and maybe Zeus himself has kept him on earth with us mere mortals for some reason yet unknown.

As we pull up in the driveway and I park, I rush over to Apollo’s side so I can assist him out of the car. Although not a patient man, he’s beaten me to it and is already out. I don’t know if I should offer my arm or—Apollo marches toward me and swoops me into his arms, cradling me against his chest.

“What are you doing?” I squeal, not resisting in fear that I’ll hurt him. “Apollo!”

“I’m showing you I’m not a piece of fine china. A few cuts and bruises are not something to worry about.”

He carries me to the house and pauses before the front door. “Keys.”

Feeling as if I weigh a thousand pounds, I quickly fumble with my purse, find the keys, and open the door, all while he holds me against his chest. He then turns the handle and kicks the door the rest of the way open. Acting as if I weigh nothing, and not even winded in the slightest, he then walks across the threshold with me still in his arms as a groom would do to his bride on their wedding day. Something he never did on that day, however, so this act is even more alarming.

“Put me down before you hurt yourself!” I hold on to his neck as if that will help lighten my weight. He turns on the light in the foyer as if what he’s doing is completely normal. “You’ve lost your mind.”

“That may be,” he says as he continues toward the kitchen. “But my head is the only thing that may not be one hundred percent. My body is fine. I’m fine. So stop acting like I’m not.” His eyes lower to mine and he adds, “Got it? Stop treating me like I’m weak. I’m not.”

Wiggling in his hold for the first time, I agree. “Yes. Now put me down.”

He places me on my feet by the kitchen island and looks around the space as if it’s the first time he’s seen it.

“I bet it feels good to be home,” I say.

“It feels odd.”

“For me too,” I admit. “I only came home to shower and change clothes, and then I went straight back to the hospital.” I look around the kitchen like he is doing. “Funny what a few days away can do.”

He turns to me and arches an eyebrow. “You stayed at the hospital the entire time?”

“Yes.” Regardless of how our marriage is, the thought of losing him was— “I’m still your wife.”

“Right. You are still my wife.” He pauses. Studies my face. Then adds, “Thank you. For being with me at the hospital.”

Apollo has never thanked me for anything before, and the foreign words feel…nice .

“The doctor said you may have some headaches, possible memory loss, heightened emotions, and maybe even some depression.”

He tilts his chin and then nods. “Things are a little foggy. I don’t really remember the accident. I don’t remember a lot. Maybe I blocked it out for a reason.”

I wonder what were the thoughts he had while crashing to the sea. Did he think he’d die and never see the inside of the house again? Did he think his life was over and everything flashed before his eyes? Was I in his last-minute visions? Did he see me at all?

He runs his fingers along the white marble countertop. “My brother never came to the house. He never was inside.” Though Apollo is speaking the words, it doesn’t feel as if he’s saying them to me.

“You both spent your time at Medusa or Olympus Manor,” I say, not sure why I’m even speaking. He knows this, so why I feel the need to say it is just…odd. I feel so awkward and out of place that my mouth just moves without me thinking it through. I walk to the refrigerator. “Do you want something to eat?”

He’s still glancing around the room, examining.

“I let the housekeeper have some days off since we were both in the hospital. I didn’t see the point for her to keep coming.” I’m nervous now that he’s maybe seeing dust and finding the condition of the house unsatisfactory. “I’ll have her come first thing tomorrow morning.” I open the refrigerator and see that it’s mostly empty. I now feel as if I’m a complete failure as a wife. This isn’t the homecoming I was hoping to give him.

“I’m not hungry,” he says, throwing me a lifeline.

“I’ll try to get to the store after the funeral tomorrow. If there is anything you want?—”

“The funeral is tomorrow? My brother’s?”

“I thought your father told you.” Apollo’s stiffening and the widening of his eyes tell me how wrong I am in thinking that. “Troy didn’t want to have the funeral until you were out of the hospital. He wanted you to be there.”

I shift from one foot to the other, waiting for him to say something. Anything. I feel as if I just revealed some secret I wasn’t supposed to.

“Athena handled all the arrangements,” I continue. I can’t stand the silence in the room and decide to fill it with chatter. “All we have to do is arrive. And if it becomes too much for you, or you don’t want to go?—”

“Of course I want to go,” he says a little too quickly and harshly. He takes a seat at the counter, pauses for several moments, and then adds, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.”

“I can only imagine what you’re going through.” I want to reach out and take his hand to offer comfort, but I’m not sure how he’ll take the unfamiliar act. It’s what a wife would do, but Apollo and I aren’t exactly the normal definition of wedded bliss. “It’s late. Maybe we should get some sleep. The doctor said you need to take it easy.”

Leaning on his elbows, he locks his eyes with mine. “Do I need to carry you up the stairs too?” He smiles, letting me know his comment is in jest. “No more talk of what the doctor said. I’m fine. I need you to believe that.”

“Got it,” I say, rolling my eyes. “The mighty Apollo has spoken,” I tease. I head toward the stairs, with him following behind. “You may not need sleep, but I do. My body is stiff from all the nights in that chair beside your bed.”

When we reach the landing upstairs, I turn to head to the primary bedroom, surprised when Apollo follows me and doesn’t head to the guest room where he’s been sleeping for the past months. “Is there something you need in the room?” I ask, stopping and turning to face him.

His head flinches back slightly. “To sleep…”

My eyes dart over his shoulder toward the guest room. “Okay…but…”

He follows my stare and glances over his shoulder. He then looks back at me but says nothing.

“Do you not remember that you moved into the guest room a few months ago?” I ask, surprised that this is something he’d forget or that would be washed from his memory because of the accident.

“I…remember,” he says. “But you and I are married, and that’s not how married people act. We won’t be sleeping in different rooms.” He moves past me and enters my bedroom—our bedroom—without waiting for me to argue.

My slight hesitation to follow him into the room is just the time he needed for him to shed his clothes. He’s lifting his shirt above his head, revealing his six-pack abs I used to love so much. There’s bruising around his rib cage, and a few bandages, and regardless of how he’s claiming he’s fine, I doubt he is completely pain free.

As he unfastens his pants, he looks at the bed. “Did you change the side of the bed you sleep on while I was in the other room, or is that still the same? ”

I point to the left side. “Still my side.” Feeling uncomfortable that he’s now wearing nothing but his underwear, I say, “I’ll get your pajamas from the other room.”

I quickly leave, not sure why I feel so…uncomfortable. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him without clothes on and an even longer time since feeling any kind of desire because of it. But tonight…is it desire I’m feeling?

Grabbing gray satin pajamas I once got him for Christmas, I head back to the room with my mind and emotions spinning. There’s a reason he moved to the guest room. There was a reason we no longer slept together. Nothing has changed, or has it? Did a near death experience change a failing marriage? Is it as simple as that?

When I hand him the pajamas, he looks down at them and chuckles. “Okay…”

“You told me you liked them when I bought them for you,” I say, feeling as if I’m just now being let in on a secret that he actually hated them.

His eyes lift to mine as he stops laughing immediately. “I like them. I do.” He then dresses, and for some odd reason, appears completely awkward and out of place wearing them. “I was just laughing as I remembered what they had me wear in the hospital.”

I watch him climb into his side of the bed and wonder if I should be the one to head to the guest room. But I’m exhausted, and I’m sure he is as well. I don’t feel we need to have some long, drawn-out marriage talk tonight. Clearly something is different, and I don’t think he, nor I, have the energy to approach the topic of where we go from here. Heading to the bathroom to get ready for bed, I do everything I can to get the image of Apollo’s body out of my mind.