"Thank you," I croak out and then clear my throat.
"Does anything hurt?” he asks, and I shake my head.
"Groggy," I tell him. There’s a fog in my mind that's not clearing, and my body feels heavy too. "Where am I?"
"At home, kitten."
He keeps calling me that, and the possessiveness that lingers in his eyes makes me think he must be someone who’s close to me. I try to search my mind, but I can’t find any memory of him.
"I don't have a home," I manage to say because I have no memory of one. Everything is blank.
"You do, and you're in it," he reassures me. "Don’t you know who I am?"
“No,” I say, and the more I stare at his handsome features, the more I wonder if he’s a model.
"I’m your husband." He holds his hand up to show a gold band on that finger. That’s when I look down at my own and see a giant diamond.
"Holy crap." I stare at the ring that’s definitely on my finger, but it feels wrong. I don’t know why, but I have a strong feeling that I could never own something like this. "I'm not poor?"
The question pops right out of me, and I notice a tick in his jaw.
"Are you remembering things?"
"No, but I’ve got a sense the ring is too expensive to belong to me."
I see him visibly relax as he nods in understanding. "You grew up poor, but now you're quite a wealthy woman."
"I married rich? Go me, I guess." I snort a laugh and then press my lips together in embarrassment. That wasn't a polite thing to say.
"Don't hold your tongue, kitten. You're known for being a stubborn smartass."
"Really?” That perks me up a little.
"Yes, really."
"Because you know me well?"
"I do."
"But you're so, you know," I say and motion up and down at him. "Hot.”
A deep chuckle comes from him, and I instantly know I love the sound. "Rest assured we're married. I had to chase you down."
"I made you work for it." I give him a pleased smirk. Okay, I guess he’s right; I am sassy.
"Oh, I worked hard for it."
He sits down on the side of the bed and takes my hand. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but he begins to tell me everything that I can’t piece together. He fills me in on his name and my own when I can’t recall it. Then he goes on to tell me about our house and our staff. It all sounds insane, and I can hardly believe this is my life.
A knock sounds, and he squeezes my hands. "That's the doctor."
He gets up to go to the door, but it's on the tip of my tongue to tell him to stay. I manage to refrain, and when Salvador returns, he has an older gentleman with him.
"How are you feeling?” the man asks, not introducing himself.
"Just out of place," I say because that’s the best way to describe it.
"Do you have any pain in your head?"
