Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 86340 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86340 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
“Everything okay?”
He studies me for a quick moment, his hand still gripped around me as if he has no plans of letting me go. Then he smiles. “We’re good. Let’s go, we can talk in the car.” He returns to my mouth without waiting for a response, my breath taken by the force of his kiss, stronger than I am used to from him, the type of kiss that guarantees a long and lengthy fuck the minute we step inside the house. He releases my mouth and my waist but pulls on my hand, heading for the car.
“What happened?” I speak the moment the car is in drive, hours of waiting and anxiety spilling out in two words.
“Dr. Terra spoke to Lee. He agreed to leave.”
I wait for more. Wait some more. “And?” I finally say.
“And he left.”
I glance at my watch. “It’s been seven hours.”
He frowns, glancing away from the road, his hands sliding effortlessly across the steering wheel as he downshifts, the smooth motion reminding me of his hands across my skin, and the fact that we haven’t been together in almost three weeks. “Seven hours?” He checks his watch. “Wow. I…” he glances at his watch again, then at the dash clock to verify. “He must have been in Lee’s head longer than I realized.”
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? Won’t ever be back?” My words behave. Come out level and unaffected.
“I’m not cured. He’s keeping me on medication… the same drug I’ve been taking the last few weeks. My chances of reoccurrence are high, especially if my emotions or stress get out of control. And I’m to avoid alcohol. You know that; you were there when he went through those rules.”
I nod. While Brant has been in full-day therapy sessions for the last few weeks, most of my participation has been behind the glass wall, watching the sessions and getting to eavesdrop on some of the instruction. Brant’s new life involves lots of rules. Lots of structure. Opposite of the life Jillian had him leading. Brant’s subconscious had created additional personalities to take over when his mind felt overwhelmed. When he was young, it was because his brain couldn’t handle the constant assault 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. A risk that was only increased by the medications fed to him by Jillian. With the new rules, new structure, and the fact that he now knows of his condition, we are hoping for him to live a relatively un-switching life. One that doesn’t include any outside presences, including one troublesome sex machine I already miss.
I watch the ivy-covered walls of Windere move by, the garage coming into view, the slow stop of the car final. I feel his fingers cup the back of my neck, threading through the mess of curls that spill over my shoulders. “You okay?”
I turn and look into his eyes. See the man who I fell in love with before I knew of Lee. The man who, in Belize, I was prepared 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.”
I close my eyes. Try to calm my heart before I open them back. Find his eyes on me as soon as they do. “You are 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 me and, for a moment, I taste Lee.
Chapter 75
5 MONTHS LATER
I stand before a full-length mirror and do not see my mother. It is an odd thought to have on your wedding day, yet it is a happy notation. I turn, expensive hands rushing to adjust the train of my gown, the beaded edges that frame my back. I am beautiful, San Francisco’s most elite wedding planner guaranteeing that fact, every detail around me perfectly coordinated to pull off the most immaculate tiny wedding ever had.