Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 40814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 204(@200wpm)___ 163(@250wpm)___ 136(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 204(@200wpm)___ 163(@250wpm)___ 136(@300wpm)
“I’m just trying to establish the basics. I can’t help but think we need some new perspective. We need to think outside the box.”
“Okaaaaaay,” Logan says slowly. “Like what?”
I look towards the window in the sun and the bright sky. “I don’t know yet. But I’m going to read and research and think until I figure it out.”
Because one thing I have already figured out, with Logan’s help?
There are two choices when faced with a life disaster like this: give into anger and despair or take the express train to acceptance and start fighting the hell back.
This is my life, dammit, and I will fight for every inch of ground I can get—and believe I deserve it.
Seven
Daphne
“You’re sure you’re ready for this?” Logan asks.
He’s hovering again, a hulking shape in a custom-made tuxedo. The gold cufflinks, paisley bow tie and emerald green cummerbund at his waist does nothing to civilize him. He looks seconds away from brandishing a sword and rushing out to single-handedly defend the castle from raiders.
In a sense, the castle has been raided. By makeup artists and hairstylists, courtesy of Armand. He owns Metamorphoses, the top spa in New Olympus.
“I’m ready.” I answer as soon as the eye makeup expert finishes my mascara. It’s been a month and a half since I first relapsed and tonight is the opening event for The Healing Garden. The finishing touches have just been put on it and I can’t wait to see. Adjacent to New Olympus General, and designed so hospital staff, patients, and guests can have a place to enjoy the fresh air and beauty of nature.
I feel giddy at the thought of finally getting out of the castle, even if it’s still in a wheelchair.
I didn’t know there were artists who specialized in just the eye area, but apparently there are. An hour with her and my thinning eyebrows are painted in. That was after she applied some sort of fast-acting growth serum to my lashes.
The make up artist shows me a mirror and my mouth falls open. My eyelashes look twice as long.
Logan isn’t impressed. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“You can’t hide me away in the castle forever.”
“Yes, I can,” Logan growls.
The makeup artist’s eyes grow round. I thank her and she nods and backs away.
“Logan.” I hold out my hand.
He’s at my side in an instant, his big hand swallowing mine.
“You can’t keep me here,” I tell him. “It’s not healthy.”
“As your doctor, I disagree.”
“I know. You’ve made that quite clear.” I give a slight tug and he sinks into a chair beside me. I struggle with what I’m going to say next, but Logan waits patiently. “My father always wanted to hide my illness. It was important to him for me to hold up appearances, especially when investors started taking interest in Belladonna. He thought a sick daughter would tarnish Belladonna’s image.”
“Fuck that,” Logan explodes. Rage ripples through his big body, but he keeps his grip gentle.
“Fuck him,” he adds in a harsh whisper. “I’m not your father. I’m not hiding you away. I just want to keep you safe, make sure you don’t relapse and… Fuck!”
He half turns away, his chest rising and falling so rapidly I fear for the seams of his bespoke suit.
“I know, I know,” I soothe. I squeeze his hand, my grip fragile as a newborn’s. “I know you’re not my father. And I’m no longer following that old script.” The words are ashes on my tongue.
Every day I wonder if I’m going to fall back into the patterns I’ve lived out my whole life. Can I fight the disease and keep my new identity? Only time will tell.
I grab Logan’s hand with both of mine. “Tell me what you’re afraid of.”
Logan brings my hands to his face, pressing his lips to my fingers. His answer is muffled. “I don’t want to lose you.”
My heart squeezes at his vulnerable tone. “My numbers are better, right?”
“Yes.”
“So much so that when Cora called, asking if I could help with the Healing Garden, you said it would be okay.”
“Yes.” He’s still not raised his head to meet my gaze.
“And I’ve been practicing. Going out to the greenhouse, going down to the gardens.” Not that I’ve done so much as lift a spade or a hand trowel.
When Cora first called, she only wanted my advice on garden design. I poured over my mother’s journals and crafted a proposal, excited for the distraction. I even donated several of my mother’s hybrids to the cause. Planning a garden in my mother's memory gave my restless mind something to focus on.
And my numbers steadily improved each week, otherwise Logan would’ve ordered me to stop.
Tonight is the opening event.
“It’s important for me to do this.” I free my left hand so I can stroke his dark hair. “It’s just a ribbon cutting. No heavy lifting required. I promise to let you know when I’m starting to get tired.” I slide my fingers around his freshly-shaven jaw and lift his head. “This is important to me,” I whisper.