Page 30 of Midnight and Mine

“Give a woman with amnesia a little leeway. I’ll guess. L.”

He fills in the letter and shows me. I study it for a bit, and he softly laughs at more incorrect guesses. As we play, our bond continues to grow. I can’t explain how at ease I feel and when he catches me in thought, he says, “Are you tired? We don’t have to play.”

“No, I want to. I just felt like we’ve done this before. Have we?”

“Do you remember it or just feel it?”

“I know you’re not supposed to tell me anything. The doctor wants me to remember on my own. But…”

“Wyn, close your eyes and think. Where have you played Hangman before? Who with?” When I close my eyes, he says, “Relax, don’t try too hard but since you feel it, maybe you’ll be able to grab a memory.”

I hum as his fingers trail up and down my arm gently. But the burden of recalling a memory is great. Heaviness settles deep within me and right when I’m about to throw in the towel, I see a man’s legs stretched out beside mine on a couch, and I’m holding a pen and paper.

Excitedly, I proclaim, “I remember. I remember.”

I open my eyes, and he says, “Keep them shut. Stay in the moment.” He maintains contact with my arm, sliding his fingers up and down. “Tell me everything you see.”

“I’m lying on the couch with Drake. He’s on one end, and I’m on the other. He’s massaging my feet, and I can see the paper and pen in front of me with the Hangman on it.”

He questions, “Do you see Drake’s face?”

“No, but…”

“No buts, just tell me what you can see. What color is the couch?”

“Gray with yellow pillows. I’m pregnant. I see my belly although it’s not as it is now. Am I remembering, or am I making this up?”

“It’s a memory, Wyn. Your couch is gray with yellow pillows.”

Then suddenly, a flash of me having sex over that couch flashes like an old-time movie projector.

“Oh. Oh.”

“What? What do you see?”

My body heats at least ten degrees, and I break into a sweat. My man is worshipping me from behind. His hands are everywhere, reaching between the apex of my thighs, playing with me. He’s talking dirty to me, but his voice is muffled, and I can’t make it out clearly. He bends over and kisses the small of my back. “Simply gorgeous. My wife.”

He enters me way too slow, and I demand for him to go faster and harder, but he chuckles as he tortures me with long, leisurely movements. My heart races, and the monitors go ballistic.

Nurse Nancy runs into the room. “Are you okay?” she asks as she takes my vitals.

“Yeah. Just overheated a little.”

“Wynter, you really need to stay calm, or I’ll have to restrict your visitors.”

“No, please let him stay. We’re just playing Hangman and evidently, I’m competitive.”

I mean, I better keep my memory to myself at this point. At least now I know l enjoy sex, and I’m not vanilla, and my husband knows how to please me. I just wonder why I can’t see Drake’s face or hear the sound of his voice clearly.

Chapter Thirteen

Scott

If my heart had legs, it would be dancing. She remembers us playing Hangman on the couch. She remembers me massaging her feet. Well, she can’t see my face but somehow, my instincts tell me she knows it’s not Drake. He’s acted standoffish and not like a husband would since she’s been in here. A husband would know to rub her back and her hair, to adjust her pillows, and when she needs water. And a husband certainly wouldn’t jerk away from her when he feels his baby kick for the first time.

After Nurse Nancy gives us a stern warning not to elevate her heart rate, we continue our game, and I don’t ask what made her so hot. Could she be remembering having sex on the couch the morning before she fell?

She finally guesses the correct answer with one leg left. “Wild As Her?” She pauses. “Are you trying to say I’m wild?”

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