Charlotte was unable to answer right away. Now that she knew for certain Charlee-Mae hadn't suffered any life-threatening injury, all she could think of at that moment was how her sister-in-law had been so confident about following her heart and letting God take over.
And so, if this accident was God's means of taking over, then—-
"I'm sorry," Charlotte heard herself say apologetically, "but I don't think that's a good idea. If I fly up there, people might start to suspect something is seriously wrong. I know you're not familiar with Cha-Cha's—-"
"Cha-Cha?"
"I mean, Charlee-Mae. But Cha-Cha is what most everyone calls her," Charlotte explained. "It's like her stage name. More or less."
"Ah." This was the first time Philippe had heard about people on YouTube having stage names, and it was starting to dawn on him how little he knew of his wife's occupation.
"Anyway, Cha-Cha has a pretty dedicated following—-"
"I have been made aware of that just recently," Philippe remarked dryly. "The nurses here are huge fans of hers."
"As expected." Charlotte couldn't help the note of pride in her voice. Cha-Cha could be considered as a pioneer in her industry, having started her YouTube channel back when the term 'vlogging' hadn't yet been coined. "Her fanbase is mostly in the Western and Southern regions, and..." Charlotte needed another extra moment just to remind herself that what she was doing was simply letting God "take over".
Philippe frowned at the sudden silence. "Is there anything wrong?"
"I'm just worried about her fans." Charlotte finally managed to make herself utter the lie. "If any of them finds out she has amnesia, it's going to be huge news, and before you know it, everything about your lives could become public knowledge...including the truth about your marriage." Charlotte paused, but when Philippe remained silent on the other end, she knew this meant she still had more persuading to do.
"Isn't your mother also scheduled to join you in Wyoming? Having someone else look after Charlee-Mae could make her question your marriage."
"Je vois..."
Philippe had a hard time deciphering his own mood by the time the call ended. Everything in his life had always been clear-cut and precise. Well-planned and orderly. Even his marriage, albeit unorthodox, was supposed to follow along the same black-and-white lines, but with his "wife" now having forgotten everything they had agreed upon...
Charlee-Mae sat up the moment the door opened, and although the sound had her heart slamming against her chest, she no longer felt as anxious as before, and even the lovely ring on her finger didn't feel as heavy.
Her first session with Dr. Bowles had been a huge help, and she now felt more like her old carefree, confident, and optimistic self. The past two weeks of her life might be a horrible blank, but she couldn't and mustn't let her mind dwell on this. As today's session had taught her, the key to coping was to focus on what she knew and ignore what was out of her control.
And so when her tall, dark, and handsome husband came striding in, and his jade-green eyes finally met hers—-
Goodness gracious.
She had actually forgotten how breathtakingly handsome her husband was, and all she could do now was congratulate herself for having such amazing taste.
Well done, Cha-Cha of two weeks ago!
He was like sex on legs, and his looks were such that they could serve as a template for animated fairytale princes. He was just divine, dad gum it. Just oh so divine, and when Charlee-Mae recalled the delightful French accent that accompanied his speech earlier, it made her want to do a Camilla Cabello and ooh-la-la-la her way all over her husband's body, which she had no trouble imagining as mouth-wateringly hard even under his leather jacket and jeans.
Charlee-Mae tried to remember if she had ever seen him naked, but as soon as she did, pain struck her temples—-
Her cry of pain had Philippe reacting instinctively, and he was seated on the edge of her bed in the next instant. "Are you alright?" His fingers gently displaced hers as he touched one side of her head. "Does it hurt here?"
"It's my fault," she confessed. "I was told not to try to remember anything—-"
"Oui."
Her husband's tone was disapproving, and he would probably be even more disapproving, Charlee-Mae thought ruefully, if he found out what she had been trying to remember.
Philippe could not help feeling wary when he saw a quirky smile form over Charlee-Mae's rosebud lips. Just seconds ago, she had appeared in great pain, and now all of a sudden she was in a mood to laugh?
Une folle.
That was what this "wife" of his was starting to shape up.
A madwoman.
He had a madwoman for a wife. Immensely fuckable, yes, but still. And when she looked fit to laugh, he finally had to ask, "What's so funny?"
"It might make you mad."