Chapter Thirty
Andre prowled the streets of the stinking city, hands shoved into his pockets to avoid punching a wall as his frustration continued to build.
Julia swore that Mary had been sent to somewhere in Chicago, but he had been in the city for two months now and hadn't seen any sign of her. It was a big place, though. All he could do was walk around and hope he would run into her.
He had risked embracing his Bear a couple of times while searching for her scent, but grizzlies were not a welcome sight in the city. The second time the police had been called on him, he knew he couldn't continue to take such risky ventures.
He slipped into a café, ordering a cup of coffee and took a spot near the window to glare out it. His face was half-reflected back at him, but he tried to focus past it to the hot, humid day outside. Trees lined the street in this section, and their bright green leaves were a relief against the brilliant sun reflected off the tall glass buildings.
His cell phone rang. Andre ignored it for a moment, grunting as he spun it around the table. It was probably Julia again. She called him constantly.
It might be an actual emergency this time. "Hello?"
"Have you found her?"
Andre bit back a grunt. "If I had, I would have told you."
"You haven't called in two days! We thought that you had found her and run off without telling her about us." The accusation didn't cover the pouting tone of her voice. "And we're out of milk."
Lord help me. Andre closed his eyes. He understood why Mary had chosen to leave when she had–her siblings were so needy! Julia acted as though he was meant to take care of every detail of their lives, or that she needed his permission to do anything that wasn't daily routine. I suppose that is the way Paul Locke ran his family.
It was still very annoying.
"If you need milk, buy milk. You have a car, you have money, I am not coming back just to bring you groceries! I will call when—"
"When you bring Mary back, you're going to go save Peter, aren't you?"
Andre held his breath a moment. He's already dead. "Don't call me again. If I have news, I'll call you. Got it?"
He hung up before she could utter another word. The sharp, bitter scent of coffee helped to override some of the burnt air smell that always permeated cities, but it did nothing to improve his mood. He returned his gaze to the window, his eyes tracing the bass clef scar on his reflected face. He had deliberately made that scar, as a reminder of his need for revenge.
Now it was just a reminder that he had failed once again to protect the woman he loved.
"Can I get a cup of coffee to go?"
Andre's heart suddenly thumped twice as fast, but he sat frozen. That voice! He tried to stop himself from hoping. He had thought he had heard her voice so many times, but every time it ended up breaking his heart a little more when he found that it wasn't her.
His lungs had difficulty drawing in air as he forced himself to look, expecting a woman he didn't know.
His heartbeat increased.
Her long, black hair had been cut to shoulder-length and dyed a dark auburn. Her skin was the same smooth alabaster, though she wore makeup now, darkening her eyes and brightening her lips. But it was her. Sharp green eyes. Rosebud mouth. Small nose. Hourglass curves, round and delicious on her beautiful, voluptuous body.
"Mary!"
She turned as the barista handed her a drink. Andre's heart leaped to his throat and he froze, uncertain what to say or do now. Did he fall to his knees and beg her to forgive him? Was he meant to take her in his arms and thank her and kiss her until neither of them could breathe?
A puzzled look crossed Mary's face. She hesitated a moment, then walked over to him. "Do I know you?"
Andre's heart died. He had known. He had been warned. He had been bracing himself. But none of that mattered. Somewhere in his heart, he thought she would instantly remember him - that all of her memories would come rushing back the moment their eyes locked. As if they were part of some sort of sappy romantic comedy, where everything would end with a happily ever after.
"I…"
Mary tilted her head to one side, her brow furrowed. "You look really familiar."
Andre couldn't breathe again. His brain seemed to be made of mush.
"I was in an accident recently," Mary continued. "I, uh… Well. I hit my head or something and got amnesia. So when I ask if we know each other, I'm being genuine. If we do know each other, I won't remember you."
He remembered how to breathe again and let out a slow breath. Amnesia. Of course, that would be how they would explain it. He could work with that. He could help her remember. If she never did… Mary had said more than once that he was her soulmate. Feelings that deep could not just disappear, could they?
"Would you like to sit with me for a while?" his voice was hoarse, as though he had been eating sandpaper.
Mary's brows rose.
Andre cleared his throat. "I mean, we both have coffee. Maybe we could sit and talk for a while, see if anything comes back to you?"
"So we do know each other?"
"You could say that, yes."
Mary cocked her head, studying him. "I don't really have time right now, but if you want, we can meet up at some other time. I work at the library over on, uh…" She waved her hand vaguely. "I can't remember the street name. But it's the one closest to here. If you want, we can meet up for lunch after I'm done tomorrow."
Andre nodded, not daring to speak in case he blurted out everything and scared her away.
"Tomorrow then?" Mary started to turn.
His heart ached to think of her walking away and reached for her arm though he stopped himself from actually touching her. "Wait. Maybe we can just talk for five minutes?"
"I'm sorry, I can't." She gave him a regretful smile. "My husband is waiting for me at home."
Husband?
Andre nodded numbly. He sank back down as she walked away, not watching her go this time. When they first met she told him she wasn't married. So why did she have a husband now? Was it part of the story the Wolves told her after they erased her memories? Or had she not told him her whole story when they met?
Husband.
***
Mary didn't realize she hadn't even tasted her coffee until she was at her apartment. It was cold by that time. She dumped it down the sink and threw out the cup as she entered.
'Apartment' might actually be too strong a word for this place, she mused. When coming in from the hallway, she entered directly into the kitchen, which consisted of two cupboards for food, a hotplate for a stove, a sink, and a shoe rack on the other side where they stored the pots and pans.
"I'm home," she called, stepping into the single room that was their den and bedroom.
She kicked off her shoes and sank onto the hide-a-bed couch, sighing. It was nice to get off her feet! She had apparently just been hired for the library job before her accident, but she dreaded going to work every day. It just wasn't her. She loved reading, but just because she was at a library didn't mean she had any time to actually read.
Her husband, David, stepped from the bathroom. "How was work?"
"It was good." She plastered a smile on her face as she stared hard at the stranger she shared her life with. She wanted to remember him, but there was no flicker of recognition in her mind.
Not like the beautiful man who she had seen in the coffee shop. She let her mind drift back to him. His tanned skin with muscles taut against his button-up shirt. He made her feel slightly dizzy. She liked the way he did his brown hair - long, pulled up into a bun at the back of his head. It was a look she generally didn't like on men, but on that particular man, it looked… right.
She suddenly realized she hadn't asked his name.
"Well, Mrs. Monroe?" David sank onto the couch next to her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "What do you say to a nice romantic dinner tonight?"
He leaned in to kiss her.
Mary shifted, pulling herself away from her husband. She shook her head. "I'm really tired," she lied. "I think I'm just going to take a bath."
David frowned as Mary slipped into the bathroom. The tub wasn't really big enough for a good soak, but she needed some space between her and David. He was being very patient with her, even though she rarely let him kiss her since the accident. It just wasn't something she wanted to do. She did not want to engage in physical intimacy, at least until she remembered her feelings for him.
As she sank into the bath, her mind turned from David. It was almost against her will. The face of the stranger from the coffee shop floated before her eyes. He looked so familiar. Especially that curious bass clef shaped scar on his cheek. How had I known him? Was he a friend? Or… a lover?