My mind cannot help but return to the worry I’ve had for the past month.
“Why so serious? Tell me what’s wrong,” he says, his voice laced with concern. “I feel like a disappointment,” I admit.
“Is it why you’ve been keeping the appointment a secret?”
Glowering at him, I say, “I already told you, I forgot. I’ve had other things on my mind since I made the appointment.”
He wags his eyebrows before his mouth dives below my ear to place a kiss. “Oh, yeah. And what specifically has been distracting you?” he asks, his warm breath laces against my skin. An uncontrollable shiver glides down my body as he kisses his way across my lips, trying to district me; It’s working. My earlier disappointment is now gone.
“I still think you were purposely keeping it a secret so you wouldn’t have to go,” he mocks, still kissing my neck. “Like you haven’t kept any secrets from me?” I throw back at him, now tilting my head back to allow better access to my neck. He snaps his head back and I’m expecting him to look outraged, but instead he looks guilty, my heart coming to a halt when he replies. “You’re right. I’ve only kept one secret from you,” he states.
Panic rises within me. “Oh, and what was that?” I ask, dreading his response. I can feel my heart racing as I think of the many possibilities.
Leaning forward, he kisses my lips as if to distract me. Instead of pulling away, he leaves our lips mere inches apart. I can feel the warmth of his breath against my mouth. “I should have told you sooner how much I loved you,” he whispers against them. Closing my eyes I feel as if I can breathe again. “I love you, beautiful,” he adds, making my heart swell.
I’M STUFFING MY mouth with another forkful of pancakes when my phone pings. My body tenses from the sound. “It’s almost time to leave,” Matt says near my ear before nipping at my shoulder. The arms that are securely wrapped around my waist tighten, as if reassuring me everything is going to be okay. Next his fingers dig into my sides, making me giggle. “That’s more like it,” he says.
Turning in Matt’s lap to better face him, his tongue darts out to lick at the corner of my lips, making me shiver. “You had some whipped cream on your lips,” he utters. “We better leave if we don’t want to be late.”
His words leave me disappointed. “We don’t have to go. We can stay and do something else,” I tease, pushing myself back against the hips I’m currently sitting on. I feel him moan against my skin. “If I’m not mistaken, I’d think you’re trying to get out of going, beautiful. I don’t know what you’re so scared of,” his lips whisper against my temple.
“That’s easy for you to say. You didn’t wake up in the hospital with amnesia,” I remind him.
“True, but I’m positive we share the same memory from six months ago,” he says, making me wonder which one he’s referring to. “It was the day you knocked on that door,” he says with a tilt of his head towards the front door, making me smile.
It reminds me of my dream. I’ve purposely pushed it to the back of my mind. The day it happened I sat trembling until I heard Matt walk in the front door. I’d composed myself enough for him to engulf me in his arms, instantly making me feel better. Since then, I haven’t thought of it again.
Still staring at the door, I reply, “I can’t believe it’s been six months since we’ve met,” As I tighten our embrace. “It was the best day of my life,” he responds. “The first of many to come,” he adds, as if promising me many more. Regardless of the circumstances of how it came to be, it will always be one of the best days of my life.
My thoughts are easily detoured into another direction when his lips find mine for a kiss. His intention was to simply kiss me, but the sweetness of his words awaken a hunger for something more than food. Deepening the kiss, I start tugging up his shirt, my hands already creeping down his stomach to reach for what I want. I can hear the clatter of the dishes behind us before his hands tighten their grip on my waist and he lifts me up off his lap and onto the table.
“You win, but this is going to be quick,” he growls against my lips before his mouth dives back down to the hollow of my neck to kiss and torture me. The warmth of his palms slowly skims my skin, leaving a current of electricity in their wake as his tongue licks its way across my skin. My legs hook around his waist to pull our bodies closer together. Lifting my shirt off, his fingers are soon unhooking my bra, pulling it off and away. His mouth starts trailing its way down my body, his lips finding my breast as I hold his head in my palms.
My body is suddenly pushed back onto the table, his head still trailing down my stomach as I suppress a giggle. I try bucking him off as a reaction, but I’m firmly held down by his hands kneading my breast. The feeling of his tongue gliding against my skin is all I need to relax as I close my eyes again and allow him to pursue teasing me.
I’m so lost in the darkness of his pleasure that I barely register lifting my hips to let him pull my pants off. His mouth has never left my body as his teeth nip at my skin. When I don’t feel anything at all anymore, I grow alarmed, wondering why he’s stopped. Thinking it’s because he’s stopped to strip, I lift my head up and open my eyes to find him gone. What the fuck? Where has he gone?
I hear the fridge opening and closing, my eyes looking in the direction to find Matt already walking back, shaking a can of whipped cream. His eyes are hooded and dark. “We’re going to be late now,” he states with a husky tone.
Standing in between my legs, he continues shaking the can. “Seeing you naked and sprawled out on the table like this, beautiful, you look like a dedicate dessert ready to eat,” he says before bringing the can down and dispensing whip across my body, making me gasp from the coldness.
He’s left a trail from the hollow of my breast down to my stomach. Matt chuckles from my reaction before his head dips down to lick my body, his tongue lapping away the whipped cream. Shaking the can again, he applies a dollop to each one of my nipples, a gasp coming from my mouth again, but this time I cannot help but laugh as well. When his lips take in each one of my nipples to lick away the cream, I moan in delight. His mouth next finds my lips, allowing me to savor the sweetness he was just tasting.
I whimper as his lips leave mine, making me crave for more. As much as I love kissing him, I love the wicked things his tongue can do to my body. Including now. I throw my head back and arch by body when his lips slowly tantalize their way down. I’m staring up, hoping the white ceiling will help distract my mind from my ticklishness. I feel the coldness of the whipped cream being dispensed between my legs and his mouth finds my heated center. My eyes close to allow the sense of his touch to take over. My hands grip at his hair, needing something to hold onto to as a heavy moan escapes my lips. I struggle to resist the urge to let go, but it’s impossible as I start to explode from his torturous tongue.
My body is still convulsing from the intensity of my orgasm. My breathing is labored as I attempt to catch my breath and the prickles are still traveling through my body. I feel his mouth nip its way up my stomach again and I continue to hold onto his hair to keep him from tickling me.
“Beautiful, open up your pretty eyes,” I hear him say above me. I want to open my eyes, but my body is still trying to come back from the heaven it was sent to. “Abigail,” he demands.
Slowly, I blink open my eyes while his hand makes its way down my thigh to hook my leg around his waist. My eyes lock onto his dark brown eyes as he plunges into me, causing me to throw my head back and cry out with blissful pleasure.
“Look at me, Abigail,” he demands again.
Bringing my gaze back down to his, he slowly starts to rock against my body. I want to close my eyes, but the demand in his eyes is keeping me from doing so.
His hands find my hips and I soon feel the pressure of him fiercely holding onto me. My hands come down to lock themselves around his wrist, wanting to feel some part of his body. His once passionate thrusts have now turned ruthless as he pounds into me. My body is forced to absorb eac
h thrust as he stares down at me with his dark eyes. The particular look in his eyes is transporting me to my past.
I slam my eyes shut to push the vision from my mind, but it doesn’t last long. “Abigail,” I hear Matt demand again, but I cannot look.
Unwillingly, my mind takes me back to the memory I associate with those dark eyes— his regret as I walked in on him with Lisa. The shiver I once had is now making my body tremble with anger as I remember him pounding into Lisa, anguish and need apparent as he turned to look at me with those same eyes.
“Stop!” I frantically shout, already shoving him off me. I still can’t open my eyes as I scramble out from under him. I’m forced to open my eyes to catch my balance as I stand and attempt to walk away. Matt is already grabbing at my arm to bring me to a stop, but my adrenaline and anger has taken over as I shove him back to land onto the table. “Beautiful, wait,” Matt orders behind me, but I continue hurrying away.
I’m brought to a halt when I’m forced to face him. “What’s wrong?” his confusion mixed with worry stares back at me.
“What were you trying to prove while you were fucking me on the table, Matt?” I bellow out.
He seems confused. “What are you talking about?”
“Was fucking me on the table you’re way of forgetting what you did with Lisa?” I throw back at him, my anger completely taking over.
“Is that what you believe?”
“Yes.”
Matt rakes his hand through his hair. “When are you ever going to put the past behind us? You keep letting it come between us!” he shouts back, making me flinch.
He releases my arm and stomps back towards the table, leaving me shocked from his reaction. I watch him furiously dress himself with his back facing me the entire time. When he’s completely dressed he turns to face me. “When you’re ready I’ll be waiting in the car,” he says as he grabs the keys from the counter and stalks his way to the front door, slamming it behind him, making me flinch once again.
IT TOOK US Three motherfucking hours to get from Portland to Seattle, the entire drive spent in utter silence. It would have been the perfect opportunity to resolve our fight, but the animosity I have over our fight is still with me. Abigail made no attempts to approach the subject either, which I was happy about. Instead, there was a darkened remorsefulness between the two of us. She kept her gaze out of the passenger window, her lips tightly pinched in agitation. From the corner of my eye I catch her glancing at me every so often, but when I’d glance back she averts her eyes back out of the window.
My mind keeps returning to the words she threw at me that are now burned into my soul. The shame of knowing Abigail had exposed me for the true reason why I’d started making love to her on the table leaves me tormented. When I’d first begun, I’d wanted to see her beautiful eyes, to know it was Abigail’s eyes I was peering down on. It soon became an obsession to erase the memory of my mistake with Lisa on the table. Instead of fixing my mistake, I only made it worse. I knew the minute she demanded I let her up I’d done wrong.
Reaching over, I grab onto her hand, expecting her to wrench it out of my hold, but she surprises me as she entwines our fingers. I bring her hand up to my lips to kiss the back of it. I want her to understand how much I love her. She turns her head from looking out of the window and smiles at me. At first the smile looks forced, until I tell her, “I love you.” The words sound simple, but they’re true. It’s then that she gives me the smile I want, the one telling me she loves me in return. It’s the answer I need to know that regardless of the struggles of our relationship, everything is going to be okay in the end.
Before long we’re arriving at the medical center where Abigail’s appointment is scheduled and I’m parking the car. I can already feel the tension radiating off her body. She’s been dreading this appointment since the moment she told me about it, and no matter what I’ve done to ease her worry, it isn’t working at this moment. I knew how important it was for her to be here, not because she hasn’t recovered her memory, but for closure. I could care less if she doesn’t remember her past. All I care about is her future.
Looking over at her, I see her eyes glazed as she stares at the building ahead of us. I give her a few minutes to sit there, lost in her thoughts. It’s the least she deserves. Hearing her sigh, I know she’s as ready as she will ever be. Getting out of the car and heading over to her door, I open it, waiting for her to step out, but she still looks petrified.
Pulling her out, I shut the door so I can lean her body up against it. I engulf her in my arms and her head immediately leans on my shoulder for comfort. I stroke her back for a couple minutes as we stand there in silence.
“I’m scared, Matt,” she mummers into my neck. Placing a kiss on her brow, I hope to take her fear away. “Everything will be fine, beautiful,” I tell her, knowing it could be a lie.
“What if it’s not?”
Pulling our bodies apart so I can take her face in my palms, I kiss her, more for my selfishness of craving the feel of her lips against mine than anything else. When done, I look at her, making sure my eyes are locked onto hers. “No matter what happens, I love you, and nothing will ever change that,” I promise before giving her a quick peck on the lips and walking with her towards the building.
Two hours later, after being put through an MRI machine as part of her recheck, we’re back in the exam room where I’m now comforting Abigail. She’s not fond of being put through that machine, so her silence is not surprising. As the minutes slowly trickle by Abigail’s fidgeting increases and the wait starts to feel endless.
After a quick knock on the door, the doctor walks in with a hopeful smile upon her face. “Hello, Abigail, it’s good to see you again,” she greets, reaching out to shake her hand.
Abigail’s face goes pale the moment she enters and I can feel her breath catch. With a forced smile upon her lips, Abigail shakes her hand. “Hi, I’m Dr. Kumar, Abigail’s neurologist,” she says, now holding her hand out for me to shake. “I’m Matt Garcia, Abigail’s boyfriend,” I happily reply.
“Nice to meet you.”
Heading straight for the computer in the room, she asks, “Any new progress you’d like to share, Ms. Adams? Have you fully recovered your memory?”
She swallows nervously before she answers. “No.”
Looking discouraged, the doctor says, “Well then, before I start asking questions, let me go over the results of today’s scan with you.” Within seconds a flat screen TV mounted on the wall ahead of us comes to life with images of the results of Abigail’s MRI. Stepping towards the TV screen, I examine the images, trying to better understand what they mean. To me it looks like foreign language, until the doctor begins explaining the images.
Using her finger to point at an image, she begins to explain. “Abigail, this is the original scan we took after your accident. You had a severe amount of swelling in your brain, which is why I put you in your medically induced coma. It was to help bring the swelling down.” The image changes on the screen. “This is the scan of your brain we did after you awoke from your coma six months ago.” Moving her finger to the right, but it looks exactly like the previous one. “These are the results from your scan today. As you can see, there isn’t any difference from six months ago to today,” she finishes.
“Is that good or bad?” Abigail asks, still looking as confused as I feel.
“As far as I can tell there are no changes at all, which is a good thing. Now, besides not fully recovering your memory, is there anything unusual you can think of that I should know about?”
“There’s only one thing I remember,” she announces. “And what is that?” the doctor encourages.
“There was a conversation I remember while I was in the hospital. I think it was from when I was in my coma,” she replies.
“Hmm,” she says again while crossing her arms over her chest as she leans against the counter. “That doesn’t surprise me. It’s been known that patients in a coma will hear
conversations surrounding them while they’re in their deep sleep. But other than that, have you recovered any memories out of the norm that you didn’t already know when you woke up?” she asks again, still hopeful for an answer.
Abigail quickly glances in my direction, as if she is apprehensive to say anything. “I don’t know if it was a dream or an actual memory,” she states.
I grow nervous and hold my breath, eager to see if Abigail will mention my sister’s memories, but what she reveals is not what I was expecting. “I had a dream. At least I think it was a dream. It was the night of my accident,” she murmurs.
The doctor’s eyes go wide and my heart feels as if it’s been slammed against my chest. “What specifically do you remember, Abigail?” I demand to know.
“Just falling down the stairs, but nothing more,” she answers before ducking her head.
The doctor starts scribbling notes onto a clipboard she’s holding in her hands. The doctor might be satisfied that is Abigail’s complete answer, but I know her too well now. She hiding something and its pissing me off she isn’t telling the truth.
“Do you have any further questions for me, Ms. Adams?”
Looking hesitant, she asks, “Will I ever recover my memory?”
The doctor now looks woeful. “You may or may not. Only time will tell,” she relays and Abigail accepts her answer as if it’s no big deal.
“Unless there is any significant changes, I can write you off as recovered. You’re welcome to schedule another scan for a year from now, but from the results of today I really doubt there’ll be any changes,” she announces.
The doctor’s words pierce at my ears. “That’s it? We just hope she’ll one day remember who she is?” I throw at the doctor. Both Abigail and the doctor snap their heads towards me. The doctor looks shocked by my words, but Abigail looks frightened.
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