Til Death Do Us Trope (Tropes 1)

“Sir, just step back.”

Voices start to mesh together, and I try to open my eyes again, but everything seems to be slipping away. The voices and the chaos echo as if far away, until blackness falls.

* * *

“That’s my wife!”

The bellow penetrates the darkness, the voice bringing me back.

“That might be the case, sir, but it’s my understanding—”

“If you want to keep your job, I wouldn’t finish that sentence, Doctor. Don’t think I’m not above buying this hospital and anything else just to fire your ass.”

“Phillip, calm down. This isn’t helping anything,” a stern female voice cuts in. She sounds just as familiar as the man…Phillip. The thought of his name sends a sweet warmth through my body, and I feel myself start to drift into the darkness again.

* * *

“God, I’m going to love doing this every day for the rest of our lives.” The man leans down, taking my mouth in a soft kiss. It’s lazy and sweet, like he has all the time in the world to kiss me. He pulls back, and his dark blue eyes scan my face. His coal-dark hair looks like he’s been running his hands through it, or maybe I have. “Still doesn’t feel real that we’re married.” He moves in a little closer, his bare legs tangling with mine.

His hand comes to my face, and I lean into it while his thumb traces my lips. I feel his other hand move under the blanket, coming to settle on my stomach.

“I’m not going to let you leave this bed all weekend. I’m going to enjoy every second of my new wife.” He takes my mouth again, and this time I push my tongue into his. No, I don’t want to leave this bed either.

There’s something about this man who is calling me his wife. He makes me feel safe, pushing away the darkness and filling it with him. I grip him tighter, wanting him closer. Needing to feel him against me. I’m lonely.

He can fix that, a voice whispers in my mind.

He pulls back and starts kissing down my neck. It feels like his mouth is everywhere, not leaving any part of me unkissed as he works his way down my body, stopping at my navel and licking around it. I feel myself smile down at him, and his eyes find mine.

A dimple forms in his cheek, the little bit of scruff on his face doing nothing to hide it. It makes my stomach flutter.

“You know.” His big hands come to my hips, gripping them firmly and holding me in place. Not that I had any intention of trying to get away from this man. He keeps calling me his wife, and I’m on board with that. It feels right. He’s here, pulling me from the darkness. Bringing me back to life. “Maybe I already put my baby inside of you. I lost count how many times I came inside you.”

Baby.

The word makes heart jump, my eyes flying open.

Soft darkness fills the room, and I go to bring my hand to my stomach, but I stop when I realize I have someone else’s hand in mine. I look down to see a head of dark hair lying next to our joined hands. It’s the man from my dream. He’s even more massive in person, filling up the chair that he has pushed up to the hospital bed.

I can’t remember anything. Just the overwhelming need to know if my baby is okay.

He looks tired. His hair is messy, just like in my dream, but his face looks exhausted even in sleep. Dark circles are under his eyes. I look around the room. It’s clear I’m in a hospital, but it almost looks like a fancy hotel suite. I would think it was one, if not for the monitors beeping beside me.

My eyes snap to one of them, and I feel a lump form in my throat. It’s the baby’s heartbeat. I watch the green lines go up and down while paper spills out of the machine, keeping track of it all. Suddenly, I feel wetness hit my cheeks. The baby is okay.

I look back to the man holding my hand. The one who’s filled my dreams for what feels like forever. Maybe it has been forever, because those dreams are all I remember. And the baby. As if on cue, I feel a little flutter in my stomach, making more tears leak from my eyes.

I place my other hand over the spot where I felt it, wanting to feel it again, but I feel nothing. Rubbing my hand along my belly, I try to remember. What am I, four months or five months along? The bump is noticeable, even with the blanket over me.

I look back to the man still holding my hand and slowly pull mine from his grasp. I bring it to his hair, running my fingers through it. The action seems normal. Like I’ve done it a thousand times. The silky strands glide through my fingers.

“Molly,” he mumbles, a soft smile pulling at his lips, and it makes me wonder if I’m Molly. If he’s like the man in my dreams. If he’s my adoring husband. That’s all I can remember seeing: the perfect man who fills my world and makes the loneliness slip away.

Suddenly, he jerks up, making me jump in surprise. His chair falls back, hitting the floor with a loud crash.

“Molly.” The word comes from him likes it’s pained. I can’t read the look on his face as he looms over me. Jesus, this man is big. It’s like he keeps getting bigger and bigger.

His hand hits a button next to the bed, then he’s on me. His big hands cup my face as his mouth descends on mine, taking me in a soft yet firm kiss. He just holds himself there. Cupping my face as his lips press to mine like he thinks I might disappear.

He doesn’t pull away as I hear someone enter the room.

“Well, I see someone is finally awake.”

He pulls back, placing his forehead against mine for a moment, then pulling away, making room for the woman in purple scrubs.

“How are you feeling?” she asks as she starts to look over the machines, hitting a few buttons.

“Sleepy.” The word doesn’t come out like I except it to and I try it again. This time it comes out right. The man next to me grabs my hand like he can’t stop himself from touching me. The woman smiles at the action before shaking her head.

“How about your head? You hit it pretty hard.” She moves in closer, making me lean up to get a look. “You rattled your brain around a little bit, but I think you’ll be okay. You’ve been out for a little over twelve hours.”

“Is she going to be okay?” the man cuts in, his impatience clear. It’s like he’s on edge, and I can hear it in his voice.

The woman studies me for a second before pulling a pen out of her breast pocket. I make a note of her name badge. Dr. Josie Dixon.

She starts flashing the light in my eyes. “All the scans were clear. She just knocked herself out real good. Some people take a little longer to wake up sometimes. I think exhaustion had a little to do with hers.” She pockets the light. “Molly, do you remember what happened to you today?”

I shake my head, trying to recall, gripping the man’s hand tighter. The security of it makes me feel better.

“Do you know where you are?”

“At a hospital,” I supply easily.

“In what city?”

I just stare at her, trying to remember. I look to the man like he’ll give me an answer, but he just studies me, a look crossing his face and his jaw going hard.

“State?” she tries again.

I just shake my head, unable to make the connection.

“How about this man? Do you know who he is?”

“He’s my husband.” I smile up at him, but he doesn’t return it. He’s still just studying me.

“His name, Molly. Do you know his name?”

“No,” I whisper, turning to look back at the doctor, not wanting to see his face. What look might cross it when he finds out I have no clue who he is. Only a dream man. I want those looks back. The ones he gave me when we were wrapped up in bed together.

“We’ll run a few tests in the morning, but I’m sure it’s fine. You had a good fall. It will come back to you,” she says, sounding so sure.

“You’ll run them now.” The man’s voice is so commanding, my head jerks back to look at him as he glares daggers at the poor doctor.

I squeeze his hand, making him look down at me and his face changes, softens.

“The baby.”

I don’t want to do any tests right now. I just want to fall back asleep even after apparently being asleep for twelve hours. But I will for the baby, I will do whatever is necessary.

“He’s doing just fine.”

“He?” I pull my hand from my husband’s, bringing it to my belly, wanting to feel him move again.