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)
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 and Christine, Brant and I, plus our flower girl. My relationship with Brant’s parents has changed. We aren’t close, Brant’s own relationship with them stilted from his years of isolation due to Jillian’s controlling hand. But the lines between them are mending, his family unit becoming less dysfunctional as time passes and trust grows. I turn, hearing 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 hold out a hand and an attendant helps me down the pedestal stairs, where I crouch before the little girl. “You look equally beautiful.” I pick up her small hand and widen my eyes, impressed at her cherry pink nails.
“A lady did them.” She plops down on the carpet, unmindful of the mini Dior that christens her body. Gripping a thousand dollar jeweled slipper and ripping it off, she holds up her bare foot, wiggling the toes before 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.
Task complete she looks up with a smile, jumping to her feet and making exaggerated tossing gestures, complete with mini jumps. “Yep!” she beams.
“Awesome.” I hold up my fist and she bumps a mini version with it, giggling when we ‘blow it up.’
“Where’s Mister Brant?” she suddenly 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 importance of her task taken very seriously. “I’ll find him right now,” she promises, before turning and, with a peal of laughter, taking off through the open doorway.
I turn back to the mirror, straightening the line of the dress.
“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 aboard our jet, her hands touching every surface twice before the plane even took off. “She is. Always has been. Adorable with a side of demon,” I warn her. “Keep an eye on her; she finds trouble as quickly as hugs.” A timely crash sounds from the direction of the kitchen, sending the woman before me fleeing. I laugh, stepping toward the vanity and grabbing the final piece of today, the diamond studs that Brant gave me our first Christmas together, putting them on as I stare in the mirror.
My wedding day—a big moment about to occur—the forever joining of my and Brant’s lives. I search my eyes for trepidation, but find none. I’m not surprised. I can mark the leaving of Lee as clearly as my birth, the change in our relationship greater than I would ever have expected. Looking back, it was as if our relationship began anew that day.
Chapter 76
I walk down a short aisle lined with hibiscus, our Hawaii home behind me, Brant and a pastor alone before me, the ocean the background to this moment of our love.
Each step closer is like a page turning in our lives.
Step. The night of Brant’s return from the doctor’s, Lee having finally left our lives. His hands on me the moment we stepped inside, a tumble of us both onto the couch, his hands frantic, needy as they yanked the clothes from my body until I was bare beneath him. He fucked me as he never had, as Lee used to, as if he was marking me, making me his. He gripped my hair when he thrust into me. Moaned my name when he turned me over and took me from behind. He made me come with his cock, then his fingers, then his mouth, before pounding a rhythm into me that I would never forget. Afterward, he took me to the floor in the center of the great room, a fire before us, our chests heaving with satisfied breaths as he rolled me over and took me a second time, slower. More like the Brant I loved. He whispered his love as he mended every fuck he had just broken me with. Then we slept, our limbs intertwined. And when the sun rose through the windows, he was still there. My Brant. And only my Brant.
Step. His abandonment of Jillian, her removal from the Board of Directors, his new place in the company executive in addition to developmental. He doesn’t work like he used to, the door to his office now open to employees, two assistants keeping his schedule on track in a way that Jillian never could. He’s formed collaborative teams, no longer a solo team of creation. I love seeing him working with others, the awe in the developer’s eyes when they see the scope of his brilliance. We were all worried about the possible loss of intellectual ability, the risk discussed and accepted by Brant. But his therapy, while affecting other pieces of his personality, hasn’t hampered that in any way.