Beautiful Beast - Page 127

“You know I’m rich, right?”

“Yeah, no shit. But it’s not how I think, or how I ever will think. I’m a poor girl at heart.”

“I’ll pay the extra so we have more time to be naked.”

Belle laughs. “Buster and I will be over in a couple of hours.”

It’s been a month since we returned from our weekend in the Hamptons, and good news has been steadily rolling in.

Buster’s lump turned out to be a benign fatty mass and not cancer, and we celebrated by giving him a steak. To ease Belle’s mind, we’re having him checked from nose to tail every month. If anything else comes up, we’ll catch it early.

I’m also making some progress in therapy. For the first time, I’m starting to believe that I can defeat the demons in my head and live a normal life without anxiety.

My ultimate goal is to get my girl back in my bed where she belongs, and I’d ideally like to have her move into the penthouse with me after she leaves Annie’s apartment. I don’t want Belle to pay rent somewhere across the city when she spends most of her spare time here.

I want to take care of her and give her everything she’s ever dreamed of, including a man who can hold her close every night and keep her safe.

Desperately wanting to be the man she needs is a strong motivator to keep all my therapy appointments, no matter how busy I am at work. I used to think talking to a stranger about my problems was bullshit, but there might be something to it after all.

There’s a lot to be said for having coping strategies that allow me to be a fully functioning member of society. My mental scars are much deeper than my physical ones.

And hopefully the drugs I’m taking to control myself at night will be a temporary fix. But they’re a much needed safeguard right now because I don’t trust myself when the chaos in my unconscious mind takes over.

As I’m finishing my final conference call of the day, Enrique sends a text that I have a package waiting, so I reply and tell him to bring it up.

When I open the door, I don’t bother hiding my face. This is how I look, at least for now, and I’m getting tired of shielding my scar behind hoodies and bandanas, especially in my own home.

He doesn’t even flinch when he fully takes in my face for the first time since I’ve been back without me trying to angle away. But he also has a lot of practice maintaining a professional demeanor.

“Here you are, Mr. Townsend.”

“Thank you. Have a great weekend.”

It feels good to look someone in the eye and not worry about what they’re thinking about me. One of the things I’ve learned is that what other people think about me is none of my business and entirely out of my control.

So, there’s really no need to stress over it, and I just have to live my life on my own terms.

It’s how I lived pre-Syria and what I’m trying to take back. Self-confidence is something I’ll never take for granted again.

Belle was right all along. I might not love my new face, especially the way that it moves – or rather, doesn’t – but it’s the cards I’ve been dealt and I need to stop being such a pussy about it.

I open the package and there’s a small box inside with a letter, which I open first. I don’t recall ordering anything, but maybe I went on an online shopping binge that I now forget.

But the familiar scrawl of the handwriting makes my knees buckle, and I walk numbly toward the couch, collapsing on the cushion.

My eyes can’t move fast enough as I eagerly read the words on the page. When I’m done, I read them again just to make sure that I captured everything.

Adam,

I told my lawyer to send this letter to you after some time had passed to let you settle into your new life. It was surreal writing it and understanding that you’d be reading it after I’m gone. You always hear people say that life is short, but it really is and believe me – I know.

Some people die suddenly and tragically, others have drawn out illnesses, and still, others have a quicker illness. I’m not sure what the best way to go is, but I’m grateful that I could do at least some planning.

In the box, you’ll find your mother’s ring. It was passed down to her from her mother and her mother before that. Your father took away your mother’s support network, so before she died, she reached out and begged me to make sure that you received it one day when you were ready. She said I’d know when the time was right.

When you meet that special woman who you want to propose to, I won’t be here. So, I’m giving it to you now and trust that you’ll find the right one and give me at least one little grandchild to watch over.

I know you’re not a religious man, Adam, but it gives me comfort to think that I won’t miss out on the rest of your life. I need to hold onto that hope because, without hope, it’s impossible to keep going and fight through another day. Really, it’s all I have left without letting fear take over.