Forget-Me-Not: Chapter Three
Colter regained consciousness and managed to pry his eyes open once more.
The first thing he saw was the beautiful redhead again, sitting beside his bed and weeping softly. Her eyes were closed, her head lowered over his hand which she had clutched in both of hers, as if deep in prayer, perhaps.
He slowly reached out to caress her cheek and capture up some of her wayward tears, even though it hurt him physically to do so.
Then she had opened those beautiful, forget-me-not blue eyes and looked at him with such hope and relief. He couldn’t possibly imagine what he had ever done to earn her adoration, but he sure felt lucky that he had.
It would’ve sucked to have woken up alone, confused and in so much pain.
She was the only angel here in this stark, white Hell of his.
But he still failed to remember her; her name or where they might have met. Where she was from, how old she was, what her favorite band was, where she liked to eat, or anything other than that she was gorgeous and she looked at him like he’d hung the freakin’ moon.
She also called him pet names; “honey”, “baby,” and “sweetie”, things like that, like they were a couple or something.
He was compelled to ask her what her name was when she’d been on the way out to get the doctor, but he‘d instantly felt bad when he had because she looked like he’d just slapped her across the face.
He had watched her visibly gather herself, picking up the pieces of her heart that he had just shattered all over the floor.
“Mina.” She had answered him quietly. “My name is Mrs. Mina Blacksteele. I’m your wife.”
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Shock reverberated all throughout Colter’s being.
Wife?
He had a wife?!
He was married?! To this beautiful, appealingly vulnerable creature with her great, big forget-me-not blue eyes and her silky auburn hair?
Colter had always been a sucker redheads. That was one thing he knew about himself for sure. There was simply no doubt.
But he didn’t seem to himself like the marrying type.
His eyes dropped automatically to his left hand. He wasn’t wearing a wedding band nor did he have a ring indent on his wedding finger, which struck him as odd.
Then the doctor and a fleet of nurses came bustling into his room to poke and prod at him. It was a while before he was able to talk to his wife again.
She stood at the edge of the room and watched over him with a reassuring little smile. And her presence did reassure him.
He couldn’t wait to learn more about her. This mysterious, beautiful wife of his.