by Alexa Riley
“Sir, just step back.”
Voices start to mesh together, and I try to open my eyes again, but everything seems to be slipping away. The voices and the chaos echo as if far away, until blackness falls.
* * *
“That’s my wife!”
The bellow penetrates the darkness, the voice bringing me back.
“That might be the case, sir, but it’s my understanding—”
“If you want to keep your job, I wouldn’t finish that sentence, Doctor. Don’t think I’m not above buying this hospital and anything else just to fire your ass.”
“Phillip, calm down. This isn’t helping anything,” a stern female voice cuts in. She sounds just as familiar as the man…Phillip. The thought of his name sends a sweet warmth through my body, and I feel myself start to drift into the darkness again.
* * *
“God, I’m going to love doing this every day for the rest of our lives.” The man leans down, taking my mouth in a soft kiss. It’s lazy and sweet, like he has all the time in the world to kiss me. He pulls back, and his dark blue eyes scan my face. His coal-dark hair looks like he’s been running his hands through it, or maybe I have. “Still doesn’t feel real that we’re married.” He moves in a little closer, his bare legs tangling with mine.
His hand comes to my face, and I lean into it while his thumb traces my lips. I feel his other hand move under the blanket, coming to settle on my stomach.
“I’m not going to let you leave this bed all weekend. I’m going to enjoy every second of my new wife.” He takes my mouth again, and this time I push my tongue into his. No, I don’t want to leave this bed either.
There’s something about this man who is calling me his wife. He makes me feel safe, pushing away the darkness and filling it with him. I grip him tighter, wanting him closer. Needing to feel him against me. I’m lonely.
He can fix that, a voice whispers in my mind.
He pulls back and starts kissing down my neck. It feels like his mouth is everywhere, not leaving any part of me unkissed as he works his way down my body, stopping at my navel and licking around it. I feel myself smile down at him, and his eyes find mine.
A dimple forms in his cheek, the little bit of scruff on his face doing nothing to hide it. It makes my stomach flutter.
“You know.” His big hands come to my hips, gripping them firmly and holding me in place. Not that I had any intention of trying to get away from this man. He keeps calling me his wife, and I’m on board with that. It feels right. He’s here, pulling me from the darkness. Bringing me back to life. “Maybe I already put my baby inside of you. I lost count how many times I came inside you.”
Baby.
The word makes heart jump, my eyes flying open.
Soft darkness fills the room, and I go to bring my hand to my stomach, but I stop when I realize I have someone else’s hand in mine. I look down to see a head of dark hair lying next to our joined hands. It’s the man from my dream. He’s even more massive in person, filling up the chair that he has pushed up to the hospital bed.
I can’t remember anything. Just the overwhelming need to know if my baby is okay.
He looks tired. His hair is messy, just like in my dream, but his face looks exhausted even in sleep. Dark circles are under his eyes. I look around the room. It’s clear I’m in a hospital, but it almost looks like a fancy hotel suite. I would think it was one, if not for the monitors beeping beside me.
My eyes snap to one of them, and I feel a lump form in my throat. It’s the baby’s heartbeat. I watch the green lines go up and down while paper spills out of the machine, keeping track of it all. Suddenly, I feel wetness hit my cheeks. The baby is okay.
I look back to the man holding my hand. The one who’s filled my dreams for what feels like forever. Maybe it has been forever, because those dreams are all I remember. And the baby. As if on cue, I feel a little flutter in my stomach, making more tears leak from my eyes.
I place my other hand over the spot where I felt it, wanting to feel it again, but I feel nothing. Rubbing my hand along my belly, I try to remember. What am I, four months or five months along? The bump is noticeable, even with the blanket over me.
I look back to the man still holding my hand and slowly pull mine from his grasp. I bring it to his hair, running my fingers through it. The action seems normal. Like I’ve done it a thousand times. The silky strands glide through my fingers.
“Molly,” he mumbles, a soft smile pulling at his lips, and it makes me wonder if I’m Molly. If he’s like the man in my dreams. If he’s my adoring husband. That’s all I can remember seeing: the perfect man who fills my world and makes the loneliness slip away.
Suddenly, he jerks up, making me jump in surprise. His chair falls back, hitting the floor with a loud crash.
“Molly.” The word comes from him likes it’s pained. I can’t read the look on his face as he looms over me. Jesus, this man is big. It’s like he keeps getting bigger and bigger.
His hand hits a button next to the bed, then he’s on me. His big hands cup my face as his mouth descends on mine, taking me in a soft yet firm kiss. He just holds himself there. Cupping my face as his lips press to mine like he thinks I might disappear.
He doesn’t pull away as I hear someone enter the room.
“Well, I see someone is finally awake.”
He pulls back, placing his forehead against mine for a moment, then pulling away, making room for the woman in purple scrubs.
“How are you feeling?” she asks as she starts to look over the machines, hitting a few buttons.
“Sleepy.” The word doesn’t come out like I except it to and I try it again. This time it comes out right. The man next to me grabs my hand like he can’t stop himself from touching me. The woman smiles at the action before shaking her head.
“How about your head? You hit it pretty hard.” She moves in closer, making me lean up to get a look. “You rattled your brain around a little bit, but I think you’ll be okay. You’ve been out for a little over twelve hours.”
“Is she going to be okay?” the man cuts in, his impatience clear. It’s like he’s on edge, and I can hear it in his voice.
The woman studies me for a second before pulling a pen out of her breast pocket. I make a note of her name badge. Dr. Josie Dixon.
She starts flashing the light in my eyes. “All the scans were clear. She just knocked herself out real good. Some people take a little longer to wake up sometimes. I think exhaustion had a little to do with hers.” She pockets the light. “Molly, do you remember what happened to you today?”
I shake my head, trying to recall, gripping the man’s hand tighter. The security of it makes me feel better.
“Do you know where you are?”
“At a hospital,” I supply easily.
“In what city?”
I just stare at her, trying to remember. I look to the man like he’ll give me an answer, but he just studies me, a look crossing his face and his jaw going hard.
“State?” she tries again.
I just shake my head, unable to make the connection.
“How about this man? Do you know who he is?”
“He’s my husband.” I smile up at him, but he doesn’t return it. He’s still just studying me.
“His name, Molly. Do you know his name?”
“No,” I whisper, turning to look back at the doctor, not wanting to see his face. What look might cross it when he finds out I have no clue who he is. Only a dream man. I want those looks back. The ones he gave me when we were wrapped up in bed together.
“We’ll run a few tests in the morning, but I’m sure it’s fine. You had a good fall. It will come back to you,” she says, sounding so sure.
“You’ll run them now.” The man’s voice is so commanding, my head jerks back to look at him as he glares daggers at the poor doctor.
I squeeze his hand, making him look down at me and his face changes, softens.
“The baby.”
I don’t want to do any tests right now. I just want to fall back asleep even after apparently being asleep for twelve hours. But I will for the baby, I will do whatever is necessary.
“He’s doing just fine.”
“He?” I pull my hand from my husband’s, bringing it to my belly, wanting to feel him move again.
“It’s a little boy. You look to be about four-and-a-half months pregnant. He’s actually a little big. I’ll need to get the records from whatever doctor you were seeing just to double-check some things.”
I have no clue who my doctor is. I don’t even know where I am. I look up at my husband.
“Can you get them for her?” I ask, knowing he would know where to find them.
“I’ll have it handled.” His words are flat, and I can’t help but feel a coldness to them, making suspicion flare to life.
“All right. Why don’t you get a little more rest and I’ll be back first thing in the morning?” With that, the doctor leaves.
“I, ah…” I suddenly feel awkward. “I don’t know your name,” I finally get out, and I peek up at him through my eyelashes.
He picks up the chair that he’d knocked over, righting it and sitting down beside me. Leaning forward, he takes my hand once again and brings it to his lips. The gesture is sweet, making me smile. I can’t get a feel of him. He seems to be all over the place, but maybe it’s me. I’m not thinking clearly.
“Phillip,” he says, dragging his lips across the back of my hand. I think I feel his tongue come out for a second, like he’s tasting me, but it’s gone before I even realize it’s there.
“Phillip.” I say his name, leaning back in the bed, my eyes starting to close. “Please don’t leave me. It’s lonely without you,” I mumble as I drift off to sleep, feeling his other hand come to my tummy.
“We’ll never be apart again,” he responds in a dark tone as I slip under.
Chapter 7
Phillip
I slide my hand under the blanket and then under her hospital gown, placing my palm on her stomach over the small bump. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to reassure myself that everything is okay.
When I was thirty minutes away from where Molly placed the call to Cindy, I got a call telling me she was in the hospital. From what I’d heard on the phone before the line went dead, something big had happened, but I pushed the thought away, refused to believe that something had happened to her when I’d just finally found her after all these months.
Just when she was about to head back to the city. Maybe not home, but to Cindy, and she had to know she wouldn’t have made it one foot into New York without my knowing she was there. I would have been on her instantly.
Everything else happened in a blur. When I came flying into the hospital making my demands, they’d tried to keep her from me. They were lucky she was in the hospital or I would have burned the motherfucker to the ground just to prove how serious I was about getting to her.
It didn’t take long before they got the point and attitudes started to change. I don’t like to push power and money around on people, but in this case I just couldn’t bring myself to care. There wasn’t a goddamn thing I wouldn’t have done in that moment to get to her.
Then when they’d told me she’d be okay, I felt like something was finally working for me. That I’d gone through enough and the powers that be were finally cutting me a break. Then they dropped the bomb. “And the baby,” the doctor had said. The roar in my ears was so loud I didn’t even hear what she said after that. I’d had to ask him to repeat himself.
If I hadn’t been sitting down, I’m sure I would have hit the floor. And the baby. The words keep circling through my mind. If something happened to our baby, it would destroy Molly. That’s something I could be certain of.
I rub my hand along the bump, feeling her breathe in and out.
I still remember when Molly told me that she wanted a family. At first, I’d just wanted her. The thought of filling her with a baby made the words tumble out of my mouth. I said I wanted one, too. At first, my desire was to tie her to me on every level I could. If we had a baby, I would always be in her life. I would be tied to her forever. The more she talked about it, the way she pictured and dreamed of it, made me want it, too. More than anything. Just another way she’d woken me up to life.
I should have been with her. Laid in bed every night cupping her little round belly and feeling it grow each day. It was what we both wanted and why none of this makes any sense. I can’t understand why she ran, and now I can’t even ask her. She doesn’t remember.
It’s a bittersweet thing. She’d been looking at me with so much love when she woke up. Like I was her world again. The trust was clear in her gaze, waiting for me to answer any questions. I didn’t have the answers for her. I didn’t know where she’d been living, with whom, or even how she’d been getting by.
Rising from my chair, I pull my hand out from under the blanket, then lean over and kiss her belly. “Don’t worry, son. I’m not letting your mommy go anywhere,” I whisper to him. I don’t know if that’s a promise or a warning for Molly.
I wouldn’t let her go. She’ll be back under my roof and in my bed one way or another. She’ll be lucky if I don’t chain her to me. I should feel shame at the thought, but I don’t. Not even a little. She broke me, and all that control, the effort it took not to smother her, is gone. Shattered into a thousand pieces, and there’s no way it could ever be put back together again.
Next I take her chin in my hand, tilting her head towards me. She doesn’t even stir. Her full lips part a little, and I can’t stop myself from putting my lips to them just for a small taste. Her mouth parts fractionally, and I slip my tongue in, cooling some of the tension in my body.
When I pull back, I hear her mumble, “Love you,” in that same voice she’d use after I’d come home from a long day of work and make love to her until she passed out. It makes my heart ache with need. I want to make her say it again. Over and over again for all the days I’d missed it.
I reluctantly pull myself away from her bed, stepping out of the room to make a call I’d been dreading. It’s a reality I’m going to have to face, even more so with Molly not being able to remember anything.
I clear the thirty missed calls on my screen and go straight for the investigator, Carl, but stop when I hear someone clear their throat. I look up to see him leaning against hallway wall. He straightens, but I put my hand up and walk towards him. I want to be a few more feet from Molly’s room. I don’t want her hearing this.
“What’ve you got?”
“What I got was fucking lucky. Your wife had nothing in her purse that showed where she was staying. Just a set of keys to who knows where.”
I just stare at him, waiting to get to the lucky part.
“When I got to the scene, there was some man freaking out about her.”
A growl leaves my chest, and I feel myself take a step towards Carl as if he’s the man in question. He holds his hand up like he’s trying to calm me. Carl’s a big man himself, a former Marine, but I’m just as big. It isn’t often that men match my size.
“He was an old man,” he says. Like I give a fuck how old he is. “An old, married man. Calm down. It wasn’t like that.”
I feel a little tension leave my body and I take a deep breath, dropping my head to look at the ground, trying to calm myself. It isn’t working.
“There isn’t another man. In fact, there was only you.” That has me snapping my head back up.
“The old man got to talking. Seemed to know who you were and who she was. Said he was wondering when you’d be coming to get her.”
Fuck. None of this makes any sense.
“Anyway, he showed me her place. Some little studio above a print shop. Place was tiny. Couldn’t imagine the rent being high. Probably how she’d gotten by on just the money she’d taken. Unless she was selling her artwork or something, but I’m guessing not. The place was filled with paintings. Only other
things were some clothes, a couple of baby books, and a bed. Even the fridge was pretty bare.”
His words don’t help with any of the confusion, nor supply me with any answers.
“Why do you say I was there?” I find myself asking. It gives me a spark of hope that maybe it won’t be as hard as I think to win my wife back. To piece together what happened all those months ago.
“It was you in all of the paintings. It was like she painted you over and over again.”
I place my hand on the wall to help support myself. She was painting me? Molly hadn’t painted since she’d moved into the condo after we were married. It was something I’d missed.
I remember picking her up to take her out and we’d end up in a make-out session in the car like high school kids. I’d find little smudges of paint in random places on her body. I don’t know why but it turned me on every time I found one. I’d started to look for them.
Then she quit. Said she’d wait until we got the new place and set up a dream studio. That never happened. Shit.
“Clear it out and take it back to New York. I want you to put it in the condo like it’s always been there. Everything. All of it.”
He just studies me for a second.
“She doesn’t remember anything. All she knows is that we made a little trip down here for a few days. She fell and hit her head. Now we’re going home, where she’s fucking been for the last four months.” I yell the last part. It’s like if I say it hard enough, loud enough, it will be true. She never left.
“Of course, sir.”
“Wrap up any loose ends. Do what you have to do. Pay what you have to pay. I don’t care.”
He gives me a tight nod. “It will all be taken care of.”
“Did you see anything about a doctor she might have been seeing?”
Carl reaches into his front suit pocket and pulls out some folded papers. I take them from him and slip them into my back pocket. I’ll have to find a doctor in the city first thing. Have her stuff transferred over. Pull some strings to make it seem like it’s the doctor she’s been seeing the whole time. It’s sneaky and underhanded, but once again I just can’t seem to care. I’d held back too long and that didn’t work. Now I’m just going to take what’s mine.
