Mr and Mrs (Promises 1)

“Molly!” I shout, bending to catch her before she hits the floor.

Cradling her in my arms, I walk her over to the couch and sit down with her in my lap, looking her over to make sure she’s okay.

She starts to shake a little, and I open my mouth to tell someone to call an ambulance when her hand comes out and slaps me hard across the face.

To stay the sting is a shock would be a vast understatement.

“What the hell?” I say, looking down at her.

“You,” she says and glares at me with so much hate and anger. It’s a look I’ve never in my life seen on her sweet face. Then she turns to Cary, who is standing dumbly a few feet from us, and points to her. “With her.”

“It’s not what you think,” Cary says, taking a step towards the two of us.

“Don’t you come near me,” Molly spits at her and tries to scramble from my lap. “Let me go, Phillip. Let me go or I swear to God, I will scream this place down.”

“Scream all you want. I’m not letting you go. Now tell me what’s wrong.” I hold her tighter, showing her how true my words really are. “Be careful, Molly. Think of the baby,” I plead, not wanting to hold her too tightly.

My worry makes her stop moving instantly, the fight going out of her. She’s breathing heavily like she’s been running, and she shoots daggers at me. I can’t remember a time she’s looked at me like this. It’s breaking my heart.

“Molly. Talk to me. What is going on?”

She lets out a laugh that lacks humor. “I saw you that night. I remember everything.”

My stomach tightens at her words. Her memory coming back is not something I want yet. I need more time, but hearing her say she saw me…I’m confused.

“You saw me…what?” I narrow my eyes on her. If she remembers, she can tell me the very thing that’s been driving me crazy. The why. “Why did you leave me?”

Tears fill her eyes as she grits out the words. “I walked in this office and saw the whole thing.”

Chapter Twelve

Molly

The barrage of emotions is almost more than I can stand. It all came tumbling back, flooding my memory. I want to rip myself from Phillip’s arms and the firm hold he has on me, but I equally want to burrow myself into him for comfort. The feeling of loneliness hits me again, worse than ever before. The last week has been… A sob tries to escape my throat, but I swallow it down, not wanting to let that emotion out. That was the whole plan, wasn’t it? To get away? Get myself together so I didn’t come back here a mess and look like some crazy woman, but I can’t seem to control myself with them both standing in the room together. The same room that… I chase away that thought, knowing that if I don’t I won’t be able to stop the next sob.

A pained book crosses Phillip’s face. It’s like he can feel my hurt. Or maybe he just knows he’s been caught. No more faking it. Pretending we’d been together all along. That I’d never left, that he hadn’t just swept this all under the rug, something my father and mother liked to do. I knew about sweeping things under the rug for most of my life, and that wasn’t supposed to happen with us. It was supposed to be so different. Maybe I’m just as naïve as I thought I was. But how could he treat me so sweetly and do these things to me? It just doesn’t add up. I can’t make the pieces fit.

“Why’d you do this to me?” He just stares at me as if he doesn’t know what to say. I push on. “This week. I…” I struggle for the words. “Everything felt so perfect, but it was a lie just like before.” I try to jerk again, but I get nowhere. One of his hands comes to my stomach in a protective hold.

This doesn’t make sense. Why did he do all this? He could have been with her. She’s clearly still around… Maybe they are still together.

The baby. He hasn’t let me out of his sight. Hell, he hasn’t even let me out of the condo. He’d said it was because of the reporters. Everyone knew I’d been hurt and they wanted their story, but that was all a lie. They would have asked where I’d been for the last four months, not about some weekend getaway with my loving husband. He would have been busted right there. But no, he took me home and, hell, I don’t even know what he was doing.

The Phillip I’d been with was not the Phillip I knew. Well, he was and he wasn’t. No, he just seems more intense now. He was everything he had been when we first got married, only to the extreme, and I’d been eating it up, thinking how I had the perfect husband. Except for the fact that he wouldn’t sleep with me.

Guilt about his mistress? That thought makes me want to smack him again. Has this whole week been about making sure I stayed once he found out about the baby? Get me away from everything and trap me in the house he’d been going on and on about? Our dream home.

“You’re trying to take my baby from me, aren’t you? I won’t let you. I’ll run. You can’t keep me prisoner!” I yell right in his face, not caring how loud I am. Fuck my composure. I’m not losing my husband and my little boy.

“You’re not running anywhere, and no one would dare keep that baby from you.” Phillip’s face is starting to turn red, as if my anger is flowing through me and into him. It always feels like that when we touch. It’s like we can feel every emotion in each other.

“Then what was the point, Phillip, if you weren’t trying to keep me around so you and your mistress can have our baby? Just let me go. I won’t keep you from him, but stop putting me through this. I can’t bear it. It feels like you’re ripping my heart out again.”