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She – who I can’t believe is agreeing to not only marry me but marry me sooner – along with our wedding planner have my completely undivided attention.
Nothing else matters at this moment.
Not the weeks of disappointing Morgan Brand reports I’m still reviewing.
Not the charity events Evie wants me to choose from to make up for my noticeable absence during my psyche break.
Not even the share proposal from Hawthorne regarding what would be a reasonable amount for Monica to be offered based on where the company was when our father died.
No.
Being here with Bryn, engaged in this planning process, present for every little thing possible is where my focus is.
I can hardly believe she forgave me.
Or…shall I say is forgiving me.
That’s the phrasing our relationship therapist Stella Yang encourages us to use, insisting that our word choices – particularly when it comes to our situation – highly matter.
Post our makeup session three nights ago – that lasted into the very early morning – we had several long talks, one of which included us seeking someone outside of family to assist in our romantic matters. Communication is a major problem and according to our therapist can become even more so once a child is brought into the equation. While there were several “more qualified” experts that specialize in working with highly influential and wealthy couples, Yang not only came recommended through Park – his sister is part of the same practice – she had the more flexible schedule we were looking for. Between our unpredictable hours as individuals and my currently rigid recovery program, we needed someone willing to be more accommodating hours wise and open to traveling to the estate.
I don’t want photos of us coming in and out of her office.
I don’t want new issues for public relations to have to battle, especially when they already have so many – particularly regarding our non-broken engagement – and are gearing up for even more post this parental revealing event.
I want our therapy sessions to be about us.
Making us better.
Making our family stronger.
I don’t want the media’s opinion interjected or hovering around what isn’t meant to be public.
Yes, we do have quite a bit of ourselves out there for the masses to see and judge and invest in; however, we are still entitled to have a few things remain private.
“I’m gonna go put us on the books for October,” Valora announces on a wave of my card, “and when I return, I want your color pallet choices. Express wedding means express decisions so no stalling,” she shoots the love of my life a scolding scowl, “Brynley.”
Her swift spinning away to march back up the sand barely precedes the woman at my side mumbling, “I don’t stall.”
It’s my turn to present her with a playful glare.
“What?” Bryn less than innocently shrugs her bright yellow, thin strap bearing shoulders. “I sometimes just prefer to tread water.”
“The human equivalent of stalling, little prey.”
“Those with capes shouldn’t judge those of us with fins.”
“Is that what I’m doing?” Jovialness remains in my tone as I put my wallet away. “I thought I was encouraging those with fins to simply swim towards happily ever after a little faster.” My fingers instantly find hers the second they’re free again. “My mistake.”
Having her fingers flex against mine causes her engagement band to gently scrape my skin, a sensation that undeniably swells my heart.
Hitches my breath.
“It’s big of you to admit that, Mr. Wayne,” giggles my fiancée prior to pulling me away to walk along the fairly vacant beach with security trailing a safe distance behind.
Small chuckles escape on a shake of the head.
DCknows, I’ve missed this.
