Mr and Mrs

I still couldn’t remember it or anything else. Like there was just this hole in my memory. But after the tests the doctors did came back normal, they have faith it will come back to me. I was a little worried, but Phillip makes me feel like everything will be okay. I should be scared or even freaking out, but all I feel is happy.

Happy to be here with this man who seems to think I’ve hung the moon, and our precious baby who he talks to just as much as he talks to me. I almost melt into a pile of goo every time he leans down to talk right to the baby.

“Rather not take my chances. Besides, I like carrying you.” I wrap my arms around his neck, laying my head against him as he walks through the underground parking garage straight to an elevator.

“Back pocket,” he tells me. I release one of my hands, reaching into his jeans and pulling out his wallet. “The silver card.”

I flip it open and the first thing I see is a picture of me in a wedding dress surrounded by peach trees.

“And where were you in this picture?” I ask, pulling out the silver card and sliding it into the elevator slot. The door immediately opens.

“Again.” He nods to another key slot. I slide it in again.

“I don’t know.’” I look up at him, not knowing which floor to hit.

“Top.”

“Oh.”

“Between having the penthouse and that fancy car—oh and let’s not forget this.” I wiggle the giant ring on my finger. The second time I’d woken up, I’d noticed it. It was hard not to. “I’m starting to think you’re really rich,” I tease.

“We’re really rich,” he corrects, making me smile. Everything is always we. He corrects me every time. Maybe the lack of my memory is starting to wear on him.

“They were holding me back.”

“Hmm?” I say, looking up at him, and he nods to the wallet still in my hand. I slide the card back inside and flip back to the picture. In the picture, my blonde hair glints in the sunlight, strands of honey and caramel softly ruffled by the breeze. I look nice there, but right now I look like a freaking mess. My husband, however, always seems to look like perfection, except for when I see the worry flash across his face.

“You went down to take pictures in your dress in the peach grove before the ceremony. I tried to go down and make you come back up.”

I laugh. “Why?” I look up at him, puzzled.

“It was taking too long, and I wanted to get married,” he grumbles, like he’s still annoyed at the idea. It makes me smile.

“How long were we together before we got married?”

“Three months.”

Now I really laugh. “You make it sound like it was forever.” My whole body shakes, and the scowl he had on his face moments ago fades into a smile, a dimple on his cheek coming out. I lean up and kiss it, and I feel his whole body still.

“It’s your dimple, you always say. Only you can make it come out.”

“Maybe I’m remembering. I saw it and I just had to kiss it.”

“You always did.” The smile is gone, and a look I can’t read crosses his face. I’ve caught it a few times now. In that moment I really hate that I can’t remember. Would I know that look?

“Do,” I correct. “I always do kiss it.” Because I will. I want to make it come back now so I can do it again.

“It was forever. Waiting those three months.”

The elevator finally dings and Phillip exits, still keeping me in his arms. He heads right down a long hallway and walks through a set of open double doors. There is a giant bed in the center of the room and Phillip deposits me on it. He starts stripping me of my clothes.

“I didn’t even want to wait a second after the first time I saw you. So three months felt like an eternity,” he says, pulling my sandals off, then going for the loose-fitting pajamas pants I have on. My shirt comes up a little, and he freezes, his eyes going to the little baby bump. I can’t stop myself from touching it.

He leans in, kissing it, then his kisses start to travel lower.

“Phillip.” The word comes out breathy as I feel his mouth over my mound through the thin fabric of my simple white panties. I let my legs drop open more. It feels like the most natural thing in the world to make room for my giant of a husband. His hand comes up, pushing the fabric out of the way, exposing me to him.

“I should let you rest, make you something to eat, but I—”

“Yes.” The word comes out as a moan. The need in his voice makes him sound like he can’t go another minute without tasting me or he might die.

His mouth descends on me, hungry and fierce. There’s no softness or build-up. He goes straight for my clit, sucking it into his mouth. I instantly cum like my body has been sitting on edge for months, and it only makes Phillip wilder, eating at me faster.

“I need another. Give it to me. It’s mine,” he growls, before going back to my clit, consuming every drop of my first orgasm, consuming me. I give him what he demands, coming so hard I have to close my eyes as I jerk against his face.

When I finally open my eyes, I see I’ve been moved to the center of the bed.

“Sleep. I’ll make you something to eat.” He kisses me, and I taste myself on him, but he pulls away far too quickly. I want more. I want the weight of his body on top of mine, but he’s already walking out the bedroom doors, and I’m alone in bed. The sight gives me a stir of something familiar.