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She awoke with no memory of who she was, but one clue will lead her to him…
Abigail Adams had it all, she’s a gorgeous supermodel, has a wealthy fiancé, and a career on the rise. But that quickly changes when she wakes up in the hospital not remembering anything. The only memories she does have are not her own, but of a total stranger.
When Abigail discovers that her fiancé has been cheating on her, she leaves him and runs to the arms of the one man she is hoping will give her the answers she seeks.
Matt Garcia is used to playing the field, keeping his heart guarded, but then Abigail Adams unexpectedly shows up at his door hoping he will be the answer she is looking for. Will he finally learn to take a break from his no strings attached lifestyle and show her that she doesn’t need her past, but the future he is willing to offer her?
With every unspoken memory she regains, will she learn to open up her heart to a total stranger, or will she keep it guarded like he does?
“You currently have 4.3 million dollars in your account at your disposal Ms. Adams, why do you ask?” a young gentleman in his early thirties, dressed in a suit, looking every bit the bank manager that he is, informs me the next morning.
I’m still trying to wrap my head around the whole situation, but I do know one thing for sure, I wasn’t letting Bill get another dollar anytime soon.
I’m very sleep deprived, since I didn’t get much of it last night. I kept going over everything that had happened. It kept me tossing and turning in my bed, my thoughts going back to Matt.
I look the manager in the eye. “I need two thousand of it in cash for myself.”
Then I hand a small piece of paper with Frank’s requested amount and account number over to him. “This amount put into that account number.” After he takes the first small paper, I hand him another with Matt’s account number. “The rest is to be transferred into this account number. Both of which are current accounts here at your facility.”
Eyes wide open, he asks, “What do you mean by the rest, ma’am?” I had a feeling this would happen and was prepared for it.
With a strong stern voice, I say emphatically, “I. Mean. All. Of. What’s. Left,” indicating just how serious I am.
With a horrified look on his face, unbelieving what he’s heard, he protests, “But, that would mean emptying out your account completely, ma’am.” His response is just as shocked, as I’m staring him down.
I have a feeling he’s going to play this game with me all morning if I let him.“I know. I’m looking at it as a very generous donation to someone who really needs it. It’s only money,” I say, trying to sound like I don’t care. “I’m pretty sure with my fiancé being my manager, there will be plenty more to fill it up again soon,” I say with a sarcastic smile on my face.
He still looks skeptical, but easily gives up.
“Okay,” he states with an apprehensive look, and tries to hold himself together as well as he can. “I’ll get the documentation for you to sign, authorizing the transfer.”
He quickly stands up and heads to his office door. Once he’s left his office, I dig into my purse for my phone and I shoot off a text to Matt.
I need a favor. A
After a minute, I receive a response.
What’s up? M
I’m going to put some money in your account for safekeeping. A
Why my account? M
I need someone I could trust, is that you? A
He doesn’t respond immediately, and I’m sitting there thinking maybe this might be a bad idea after all. But, then I hear the ping of a response.
Of course, Pinkie Promise. M
That’s when I blank out and I’m suddenly pulled into another memory. I’m sitting on a bed in a little boy’s room and there is a small child sitting across from me on the bed. It’s Matt, his eyes are red and swollen, like he’s been crying for a while, and he’s looking at me with desperation on his face.
I tell him, “Everything is going to be all right, I’m here now and I’m never leaving you.”
He stares into my eyes and says, “Promise?”
My response to him, without a doubt is, “Pinkie Promise.” Holding out my pinkie and locking it with his, I hug him with a force promising not to let go.
I hear the ping of my phone again, breaking me from the memory, pulling me back to reality. Why is it that I get these memories like that, randomly? I’m beginning to appreciate when I was dreaming them, at least I didn’t spaz out like just did.
You still there? M
Yes. I’m still here, Pinkie Promise. A
Do you need my bank info? M
No, I already have it. A
How the hell did you get it? M
The same guy who gave me your address. 😉 A
About The Author
Gabbie is a Southern California native, who currently lives in Washington with her wonderful husband, two amazing kids and a senior citizen kitty. When she’s not writing you can find her reading or sneaking off for a run. Some might say it’s a crazy life, but she wouldn’t change anything about it.
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