Chapter Four

Third-person Pov 

 "Oh Lord, not another complication!" Amelia thought to herself, hoping that the man in front of her would just disappear and turn out to be her imagination, but no matter how much she blinked and stared, the man remained there, as solid and real as ever. 

 With a groan, she buried her face in her hands. This situation was enough to drive anyone crazy, and Amelia felt that she was slowly getting there. 

"Are you in pain, Emma? Should I call the doctor?" asked Alexander, mistaking her groan for one of pain.  

"I'm fine," she snapped.  

She took another good look at Alexander. He looked young, like he wasn't even thirty yet, which made sense because the body she was in was the body of a girl that didn't even look older than twenty-one.

 Now, how was she supposed to deal not only with the fact that she was wearing a stranger's body like a cloth but that this girl was also married?

The thing that made her want to tear her hair out in frustration was the fact that no one was going to believe her no matter how many times she tried to explain that she wasn't Emma, like she wanted to do now.

 They would all just think she was crazy.  

Judging by the way Alexander was looking at her, that thought seemed to have occurred to him.

On some level, she didn't really blame him. Or anyone else.

In her old body, she too would have laughed at anyone who talked about soul travel or switching bodies, but here she was, sitting in someone else's body and not knowing how to explain that she wasn't who they thought she was. 

"So... you don't really remember me? Weird," Alexander said, slowly stroking his chin. 

It took a long while for his words to register.  

"And why are you looking at me like that?" he asked her, raising a brow. "Is there something you want to say to me?"

Amelia gave her head a little shake. There was no point in even attempting to explain things to him, she decided. 

"Nothing," she said. "I'd like you to leave, please."

"Leave? Why? I just got here."

"Well, I'm tired, and I want to rest. I'd do that better if I were alone," she responded, not bothering to hide the irritation in her tone.

 Alexander stared at her for a long, uncomfortable moment. 

"So it's true," he said, half to himself. "The doctors told me you didn't remember who you were at all. They said you were going on and on about being some woman... Amelia, right? I didn't exactly believe it at first since I know too well how very dramatic and attention-seeking you can be sometimes, but with the way you're acting, I can tell they were not exaggerating. When do you think you'll snap out of it anyway? Did the doctors say when?"

Amelia immediately clenched her hands, hating that the doctors had already made her seem like she was a crazy woman. 

"Snap out of—you know what? I don't care what you or the others think anymore. They think I'm out of my mind, and obviously you do too, so instead of staying here and bothering me, why don't you just leave? Ask the doctors any questions you have, and get out because you being here is upsetting me."

Amelia looked around the room as though hoping a nurse would appear out of nowhere. She jabbed a finger in the direction of the door, but Alexander did not budge.

"Listen," he said, his face and voice suddenly hardening. "Frankly, I don't care whether you're crazy or not. I also don't give a damn about whether you want to be alone... or not. In fact, the last place I want to be is anywhere close to you, but..." He shrugged his broad shoulders. "...everyone seems to have heard that you finally regained consciousness. It's all over the news and blogs."

"I don't see what that has to do with—"

"Hold on. I'm getting to the point. It would look odd, wouldn't it, if I hadn't come to see you after you woke from a three-year coma? Everyone would have been going on and on about what a terrible husband I am, and they may even get it into their heads that I had something to do with your accident and wasn't happy that you are now awake. So here I am, Emma. Deal with it."

 Amelia was shocked when she heard Alexander say this, all in a tone of extreme bitterness. 

"Wait a minute," she said slowly. "I thought you said you were supposed to be my husband."

 "Are you still stuck on that? Want me to get you a couple of our wedding pictures as proof?" Alex asked. 

"No. What I want to know is how you could tell me you don't care what happens to me right to my face. Aren't we supposed to be in love?"

He stared, threw back his head, and burst into laughter. 

"Did I say something funny?" Amelia asked when he just wouldn't stop laughing. 

"Pardon me," he said, still chuckling. "It's just that word... love." He gave a mock shudder. "We haven't ever been in love, and we never will. And as for how I just spoke to you, we have never been close enough to even be polite to each other. In fact, right now, I'm being incredibly polite to you."

"But why?"

Alexander raised a hand, cutting her off. Now his blue eyes were as cold as chips of ice.  

"If you don't mind, I would rather not go into lengthy explanations. I neither have the time nor the patience for that. The doctor tells me you will eventually get your memories back anyway, and even if they don't come back, Liane can help you reconstruct all the details of our sorry excuse of a marriage."

Amelia watched him walk over to the window. He twitched the curtains aside and peered out of it. He cursed softly under his breath.

 His clenching and unclenching hands showed his annoyance.

"They're all out there like a bunch of vultures with their annoying cameras," he murmured to himself before turning to Amelia, who was still trying to wrap her head around the loathing Alexander seemed to feel for Emma. 

She wasn't so sure her marriage to Samuel wasn't better, but when she remembered how Samuel had killed her and even succeeded in erasing every memory of her, she concluded that anything would be better than that kind of marriage. 

For the first time since she had regained consciousness, Amelia forgot for a moment her own issues as she wondered what had gone wrong in Emma's marriage.

"The press is still out there," said Alexander with a quick glance at his watch. "I'm sure you want to fool them as much as I do." He smiled mockingly. "God forbid that any hint of scandal should touch the ever-perfect Emma Mitchell. You will have to bear with me for just thirty minutes, and after that I'll be out of your hair, and you can go back to... whatever it is you were doing before I came along."

"Do I get a say in this?" Amelia asked, already knowing what the answer would be. 

She had guessed, and rightly too, that behind that careless, unconcerned exterior was a very strong will. 

"No," Alexander replied cheerfully. He pulled out a pocket-sized book, lowered himself into a seat as far away from her as the hospital room would allow, and crossed his legs. "Just pretend like I'm not in the room, Emma, because that is exactly what I'm going to do."