Mr and Mrs by Alexa Riley

Author:Alexa Riley [Riley, Alexa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-04-10T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Molly

Phillip lifts me from the car, easily cradling me into his chest.

“I think I can walk. I was doing it a little at the hospital,” I tease him. He hasn’t been more than a reach away from me since I woke up in the hospital three days ago. Almost like, if he takes his eyes off me, I might up and disappear.

But I can only imagine how scared he must have been thinking he lost me and our little peanut. He said I stepped out of a shop we were checking out on our little getaway and I was almost hit by a truck. A man pushed me out of the way in the nick of time and I’d hit my head pretty hard on the concrete curb.

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.

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