Wedding Party Collection: Don't Tell The Bride. Kelly Hunter

      ‘You really need to ask?’ He held her gaze. Lena was the first to look away.

      ‘So, yeah. That could happen,’ he said gruffly. ‘Get well and anything could happen.’

      ‘You mean my leg.’

      ‘Your leg is as good as it’s ever likely to get. The kayaking and the speedboat racing are good options for you. I like that you’re talking about them.’

      ‘Promise me something. Promise you’ll race me.’

      Trig grinned and placed his hand to his mighty heart. ‘Don’t expect any quarter.’

      ‘I’d take it as a grave insult if you gave me any. So what’s the plan for today? I know you said we should go home if my memory stays faulty, but it is improving. I remembered that your father’s a builder this morning. I remember you working his jobs in order to get the money to buy your surf kites. True or not true?’

      ‘True.’

      ‘So I’d like to stay. Maybe we could continue on with our honeymoon plans. Make the most of this time together, regardless.’

      Trig looked to be on the verge of protest.

      ‘After I’ve seen the doctor today and been given the all-clear, of course.’

      ‘You’re so amenable.’

      ‘Aren’t I always?’

      Trig almost choked on his coffee. ‘Yeah, no. I’m thinking it’s a concussion side effect that has to do with a whole bunch of bad feelings that you can’t remember.’

      ‘But you prefer me amenable? You like this me better than you like the old me.’

      Trig took his time answering. ‘There’s a few old yous. You as a kid. You as a comrade-in-arms. You trying to make your body work the way it did before, scared as hell that it wouldn’t and even more scared of being cast aside by the people you love because of it. I had trouble getting that through to you. Fell in love with you even more because of it though. And then there’s this you who’s a whole lot like the old you—before the shooting—only softer somehow, and more assured. I could get used to this you too.’

      ‘But which me do you love?’

      ‘All of them.’

      Good answer. ‘So, assuming the doctor gives me the okay, where to next on the honeymoon trip?’

      ‘Bodrum.’

      ‘So you do know what Jericho3 is?’

      ‘No,’ he muttered. ‘But I aim to.’

      * * *

      Lena got the all-clear to travel from the doctor and permission to back off on the medications. The doctor made a more thorough examination of the bruises on her hip this time around and made her show him what leg movement she had and asked her whether the pain there was any worse than before.

      ‘No,’ she assured him. ‘That’s about as good as it gets.’

      The doctor nodded. ‘You’re on pain medication?’

      ‘And anti-inflammatories. The leg has improved a lot. It’s been nineteen months. I’m off the painkillers for the most part. I’ll take them occasionally and the anti-inflammatories too if I have a big day of movement coming up.’

      ‘I didn’t know you were off the painkillers,’ said Trig.

      ‘Not completely. But on a good day I can get by without. Doctor, what about the sex with my husband? Am I cleared to do that? Because we’re on our honeymoon.’

      ‘Ah.’ The doctor slid Trig a sideways glance. ‘Again, if you’re sensible and don’t indulge in anything too rigorous you should be fine.’

      Lena beamed. Trig frowned.

      For a man on his honeymoon he didn’t look altogether pleased about the lifting of the no-sex ban.

      ‘You want us on the next flight home, don’t you?’ Lena accused as they left the doctor’s rooms.

      ‘The thought had crossed my mind.’

      ‘Why?’

      ‘Because your memory’s still impaired.’

      ‘It’s not that impaired.’

      ‘That’s one opinion.’

      ‘Aren’t we meant to be meeting up with Jared while we’re here? When’s that scheduled for?’

      ‘It’s not. I haven’t heard from him.’ Trig nodded towards a dark grey saloon that was fast approaching. ‘There’s our driver.’ The vehicle slid to a halt and Trig opened the rear door for her. Traffic backed up behind the vehicle but both Trig and the driver seemed unconcerned. ‘I’m tossing up whether we should go to Bodrum or not,’ Trig said as they got under way.

      ‘Bodrum is indeed a most pleasant holiday destination,’ offered the taxi driver. The driver’s name was Yasar. Yasar was a cheerful man with many relatives.

      ‘I promise to rest,’ Lena said. Hopefully this would reassure him.

      ‘And do exactly what I say,’ Trig said.

      ‘Was that in our marriage vows? I don’t think it was.’

      Trig sighed. ‘You could at least pretend obedience. How else am I going to pretend that taking you to Bodrum is even a halfway good idea? Because it’s not. It’s the worst idea I’ve ever had, with the exception of one or two others.’

      ‘What were the others?’

      ‘Imbecilic.’

      Lena grinned at him. ‘I’d like to go to Bodrum. It sounds relaxing. I’ll stay out of your way if there’s work there for you that you want to chase up. I’m okay with you multitasking. We could fly there this afternoon after we shop.’

      ‘Shop for what?’

      ‘Clothes.’ Lena leaned forward towards the driver. ‘Yasar, are there any big department stores nearby?’

      ‘Indeed, there are,’ Yasar offered in a voice filled with deep despair. ‘Although why anyone would want to shop there, when for marginally more effort I can take you to any number of specialty stores that also offer discretionary discounting—’

      ‘Not today, Yasar,’ Trig cut in firmly. ‘Just find us a department store.’

      Ten minutes later, Yasar slowed the car to a halt in front of a huge department store.

      ‘How long are we going to be?’ Trig asked her.

      ‘Half an hour.’

      ‘Half an hour,’ said Yasar, looking to Trig. ‘I shall be back in this very spot at exactly ten fifty. Shall I be bearing kebabs and cold beverages for you and your lady wife?’

      ‘Yes,’ said Trig. ‘Yasar, what are you like at booking flights?’

      ‘I have a gift for it,’ said Yasar. ‘I also have a cousin who is a travel agent.’

      ‘See if your cousin can book us on a flight to Bodrum later this afternoon.’

      Yasar nodded sagely.

      ‘Handy guy,’ she murmured as Yasar drove away.

      ‘He’s a fixer.’

      They entered the store and headed past the perfume counters and towards the escalators, where a giant sign told them what items would be on what floor. ‘I propose we divide and conquer,’ she told him briskly. ‘Second floor for you.’

      ‘Second floor is women’s evening wear.’

      ‘Exactly. I need a dress to go dancing in. Don’t bring too much sexy back and I don’t do baby pink or ruffles.’