Mr. Holt

Three days later

It's been three days and we still have no news on where our baby is. I'm despondent. Alexander has practically all but threatened to burn down the police station. He reviewed the cameras himself, but neither of us got a good view of the woman who took him. The side view of her face as she stepped onto the elevator reminds me of the woman the media put in the picture of Alexander in his apartment when he was being accused of having an affair, but I can't be for certain.

"Do you want breakfast, babe?" He asks from across the kitchen of our new house in LA.
I shake my head.

"You need to eat," he says.
"I want my baby," I say.
"I know. We can go to the police station as soon as we eat."
I nod. "Okay."
Alexander pulls a pot out of the cabinet, goes to the fridge to get eggs, and starts cooking breakfast.
I sit on the bar stool across from him and lay my head on the counter as he makes our breakfast.

"I'm so glad you're here," I mumble.
"I'm glad I'm here too."
"Alexander," I say, glancing up at him.
He looks over his shoulder at me.
"The woman in the photo on Instagram."
"What about her?"
"I know you say you didn't have an affair with her, and I believe you now, but do you know her or at least know who she is?"

He looks over at me. "No, why?"

"Because the woman who was in the video the cops showed us..."

"Which video?"

"The woman who took Sebastian. I think it might be her."

"Show me the photos again," he says, holding out his hand for my phone.

Though I don't want to relive seeing those awful photos of him with another woman, I open my phone and show him the post.

Alexander looks at the photo for a moment before opening his phone and watching the video the detective sent him of the woman leaving the hospital.

"Lex?" I say when he doesn't say anything for a moment. He still doesn't answer me and I scoot my body closer to him on my bar stool, reaching my arms out for him as I try to get his attention.

"I think you're right," he finally says. "The hair, the body build, the tattoos..."

"Who is she?"

"I have no idea. I don't know her."

Holding him against me, I say, "I don't want to rehash old wounds, but this is you in the picture. Maybe she's an old fling you had and you just don't remember her? Maybe she was a waitress or something you brought back to your place from a bar and you were drunk so you don't remember?"

"I already thought about that," he says and puts a plate of eggs and toast with sausage in front of me.

"Oh. You did?"

"I'm a very wealthy guy, babe. I needed to protect myself from women wanting to claim I date raped them or worse, you know, like telling me I'm their baby daddy."

"You are a baby daddy," I say and bite into my food.

"You don't count," he says and kisses my lips. "I'm supposed to be married to you."

We kiss for a moment before he pulls back and pecks my nose, whispering, "Six weeks is so long."

"Don't worry. I'll take care of you. And I wasn't talking about me."

"About you how?"

"I was talking about Adele and Josie."

"Oh," he says, his facial expression changing. "They don't count either."

I smile and nudge his side. "And why's that?"

"Because I was young and didn't know any better then."

Leaning forward, I kiss his lips again and say, "So how do you know she's not an old girlfriend or a one-night stand?"

"I save my camera tapes."

"Smart," I say and tap his chest. "So, how do you think she got the picture?"

"I think it's fake."

"Fake?" I ask.

He nods. "I think it isn't me. Well, it is, but she took a picture with someone else and put my body there. You'd be surprised what a good Photoshop can do."

"Oh, you're right. I never thought about that," I say.

"So, now will you marry me?"

"One step at a time. We need to find Sebastian."

"Let's go to the police station," he says.