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That punk Alex is right. Many women easily understand their men and read their minds. But they have to hear it from the horse's mouth, or they'll start doubting what they already know. Monique can't read everything in my mind. I even failed my mind, or if we put it in a romantic sense, my heart.
I read in a book that the moment somebody realizes they are in love, they remember exactly how they met. That moment is something blurred for Monique and me. We settled that we met when we were too drunk to remember anything. We have many beginnings that we never knew we started. All that we focus on is what we have. It's beautiful as it is.
When Tricia begged me and promised to be better, I remembered the day I met Monique. We were indeed drunk. She was celebrating her first year of residency in a doctor’s bar in front of the university; I’m celebrating my fellowship.
Somebody pushed me to the bar, and I landed on the lap of a blue-eyed, tall, red-head woman. She was drunk, too. But she looked at me, and I entered a beautiful dream, where I kissed her; she kissed me back. Then I said to her...
“I love you.”
Monique turns like red ice in my arms. She looks at me for a while, waiting for the phrase we always add. But I have no intention of saying it.
"You probably don't remember, but the first time we met, we already said...."
“I love you.”
Strange heat spreads all over me and turns me numb. Monique remembers. My hormones explode inside me. The feeling is better than a double orgasm with her. I look at her for a while. It was the same feeling when I first saw her. We were too drunk to realize we had fallen in love the first time we met. We loved each other before we even knew our names.
I panic when Monique tears up.
“Why do I have to remember it now? When you already found somebody better,” Monique slides her legs from my hips and pushes me away. “She’s the one you need,” she smiles and tries to walk away from me. “Damon!” she cries when I push her back to the wall.
“You’re right. She’s the one I need. Tricia is the one I need to realize that I don’t need somebody better,” Monique acts puzzled, but I can tell from the spark in her eyes that she knows what I meant.
My eyes move down to her lips. I could end this with a kiss. After all, she understood what I said. Monique knows what my kisses will promise. But I don't want to risk it in our confident minds. I need her to hear my thoughts.
"I'm already with the best," Monique presses her lips to avoid showing the joy she feels. I open her mouth with a passionate kiss. She teases me by resisting it but ends up giving up and replying with a hotter kiss.
“How about her?” Monique asks.
“She’ll be fine. I’ll make sure of it,” Monique raises an eyebrow at me. I laugh and appease her with a kiss. “Without having her take part in what we have. I will not have anyone take part in what we have.”
Monique also needs to know that I don't want her to find another man. If I'm still not the best for her, I will be.
“Having another man never crossed my mind,” Monique clings to me with all her limbs when I lift her from the floor. “So what are we now?”
“Does it matter?”
Monique pauses and thinks. I worry about missing something, and she'll doubt me. Most women demand labels. But for us, she's my woman, and I'm her man. Whatever others call it, the meaning stays the same. If she wants one, I'll give it to her, even if it would be as my wife.
She shakes her head and kisses me instead of answering.
“Why do you think we forgot and only remember now?” I ask while caressing Monique’s face after a lingering kiss.
Monique draws a line on the ridge of my nose with her finger and shakes her head. "A person's mind is always a mystery, and so is his destiny," she says while brushing the tip of her nose along my jaw. She stops, faces me, and smiles, "But you know what I like about us?"
“What? That we have a lot to uncover about our past? The ones we never treasured but kept us strong?”
Monique frowns. “This is why I hate intelligent people.”
“But you love this intelligent one.”
“Only because you missed the other point,” I give Monique a curious look. She tightens her embrace and whispers, “We can do that while being each other’s best.”
I smile and carry her higher, leveling her hot crotch to my abs. My face levels her breasts. We look around and frown after seeing the cameras. I nuzzle her neck and whisper into her ears, “Let me become the best at home.”
"You already are," Monique catches my mouth and kisses me. Her tongue explores my mouth as if engraving inside me that she loves me. She giggles and says, "Let's go home."
Monique slides from me, grabs me by the wrist, and leads me to the elevator. We stop when the sound of the landing chopper echoes in the hallway, almost deafening us. The elevator door opens; a tall, semi-bald doctor appears.
“Dr. James,” I greet.
“Dr. Aragon. Dr. Cowell," Sin, or Sinclair James, the head of the thoracic department and one of the financial directors, smiles. "Enjoyed the tiny hallway?"
Monique smiles cheekily and answers, “We wanted to do it on the helipad, but somebody is going to a private island.”
Sin shows an irritated smirk and walks past us. I look at Monique and shake my head. She's lucky her grandfather is one of the founders of the hospital. The last thing any hospital personnel would want is to be on Dr. Sin's bad side.
Dr. Sin may not be the named CEO or hold the highest position, but he can crumple the hospital to the ground if he wants to. Sin is the richest among the directors by at least triple the amount. His family is on the list of the sixty wealthiest families– in the world. He is named one of the most eligible bachelors by magazines. Almost every nurse in the hospital calls him their prince.
But they don’t know his secret.
Hospital personnel think of my relationship with Monique as scandalous. But the word refers better to Dr. Sin.
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