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I look away from him, out the window. "Dr. Terra didn't tell you what was involved in Lee leaving?"For you, I'll do it. I'll fucking kill myself inside of him. Lee's words come back to haunt me.
"No. I mean, other than the fact that Lee had to accept it. The likelihood of success is much more possible if he is a willing participant."
"So, he's gone now? Won't ever be back?" My words behave. They come out level and unaffected, like I don't care about losing him.
"I'm not cured. He's keeping me on this medication. My chances of reoccurrence are high, especially if my emotions or stress get out of control. And I'm supposed to avoid alcohol. You know that; you were there when he went through those rules."
I nod. Brant's new regimen involves lots of rules and structure and will be very different from the unpredictable life Jillian had given him. Brant's subconscious has grown used to creating additional personalities to take over when his mind feels overwhelmed. When he was young, Dr. Terra thinks it was because his brain couldn't handle the sudden pressure and expectations of his intelligence, the nonstop brain functions causing a short of sorts that resulted in another personality, one that was slower and stupider and emotionally unstable. When he was older, it happened when he was under extreme stress, or in strange situations, or anxious over something. It was no coincidence he had switched the night before his initial proposal to me. Or the days before a new product release or company merger. The likelihood of switches was amplified by the medications fed to him by Jillian—medications that increased his productivity and honed his ADHD but triggered his anxiety and stress. With the new rules, new structure, and the fact that he now knows of his condition, we are hoping for him to live a life that is relatively free of separate personas. Especially one troublesome sex machine who I already miss.
The ivy-covered walls of Windere move into view and he brakes at the entrance gate, waiting as it moves out of the way. He cups the back of my neck and threads his fingers through the mess of curls that spill over my shoulders. "You okay?"
I turn and look into his eyes, sinking into his warm and reassuring gaze. There's the man who I fell in love with. The man I want to marry. "Yes," I whisper. "I'm good."
He puts the car in park. Unbuckles his belt and leans forward. Pulls me forward until we are close. "I will be more," he says gruffly. "I'm going to be everything he was too."
“You're everything I need, Brant."
"I will be," he says, leaning forward until our lips are a breath away. "I promise you, one day I will be."
Then he presses his lips to mine and, for a moment, I taste Lee.
Chapter 87
FIVE MONTHS LATER
I stand before a full-length mirror and study my reflection, waiting for the nervous butterflies that I have been warned about. I smooth my hand over my stomach, but it is calm and quiet. I pivot to the left and all three attendees rush forward to adjust the long train and the hang of the ivory beaded fabric. I look beautiful, thanks to Hawaii's most elite wedding planner who has guaranteed every detail is perfectly coordinated to create the most immaculate tiny wedding ever had.
There will be none of society's elite here today. No fake smiles of the women I have pretended, for so many years, to like. We will be a small party of nine: Brant's parents and my own, Anna, Christine, Brant, me, plus our flower girl.
If I have any stress, it's at seeing and spending time with our parents. Brant's are still wary of me and my effect on Brant’s status quo. They are still close with Jillian and don’t understand why we have cut the older woman out of our lives. My parents are ecstatic at the idea of me marrying tech's most successful entrepreneur and have no knowledge of his disorder.
The door of the dressing room clicks open, and I can hear the squeal of our flower girl before she arrives, a bundle of white careening around the corner and coming to a short halt before the mirror.
"Wow," Hannah breathes, her eyes on the mirror. "You look beautiful."
"Thanks, sweetheart." I move to the edge and an attendant helps me down the pedestal stairs. I crouch before the little girl. "You look equally beautiful." I pick up her small hand and widen my eyes in admiration at her tiny cherry-pink nails.
"A lady did them." She plops down on the carpet, unmindful of her mini Dior dress. Gripping an expensive jeweled slipper by the heel and pulling it off, she holds up her bare foot and wiggles her toes at me. "Look! My toes match!"
"Very impressive." I smile. "Got your petal tossing technique down?" I pass her shoe back and watch as she pulls it on, a small pink tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth in concentration.
Once the task is complete, she looks up with a smile. “Yep!” She jumps to her feet and begins to make exaggerated tossing gestures, each one complete with a small jump.
"Awesome." I hold up my fist and she bumps it with her own, giggling.
"Where's Mr. Brant?" she asks, looking around.
I shrug, rising to my feet. "Not sure. Why don't you go track him down and escort him to the garden? We don't want him to be late for the ceremony."
She nods solemnly, the task taken very seriously. "I'll find him right now," she promises, then turns and tears through the open doorway.
I return to the dressing stage and turn back to the mirror, waiting as the attendees return to the task of preparing the gown.
"She's an adorable little girl," the woman behind me says, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror.
I nod, smiling at the memory of Hannah boarding our jet, her hands touching every surface twice before the plane took off. "She is. Adorable with a side of demon," I warn her. "Keep an eye on her; she finds trouble as quickly as she hugs." A timely crash sounds from the direction of the kitchen, and I laugh. “See?”
I point toward the vanity. “Can you pass me that box, the blue one?”
