I was going to miss the hell out of that crazy woman.
It had been three days since Levee had agreed to go back into a treatment program. She still hadn’t dealt with Devon. Nor had she told anyone that she was stepping away from the music industry for a while. I kept my mouth shut though, because she had found an inpatient program on the outskirts of San Francisco. It wasn’t the luxury resort she had been staying at in Maine, but it was still a nice place. After a long conversation with the director of the facility, we’d both felt comfortable that they would be able to handle her issues as well as protect her privacy while she was there. They’d never had a high-profile patient like Levee before, but they assured us that it wouldn’t be problem.
Levee was adamant that I be involved in the process this time. I couldn’t say that I minded. It did wonders for my anxiety to know step by step what kind of help she would be receiving. Given our situation, Levee’s new doctor made a house call in order to meet us. Doctor Spellman was an older lady who was professional to the core. She told it exactly like it was and didn’t even do it with a smile. I fucking loved that about her. She didn’t blow smoke up our asses by saying that everything would be fine. Instead, she laid out a solid treatment plan, outlining exactly what she hoped Levee would take from her time spent under her care. She also recommended Levee spend a full thirty days in inpatient then switch to six months of outpatient therapy.
Levee was still hesitant about the whole thing as we watched Doctor Spellman drive away I, however, was not.
I was damn near ecstatic.
And, for that reason alone, I lost my ever-loving mind for a full ten seconds.
Levee’s eyes were huge as I pulled the pack of cigarettes from my pocket and, one by one, crumbled them on the floor.
Five minutes later, I all but cried as I cleaned them up.
And that was how I found myself riding in my Jeep without a cigarette for the very first time. I did, however, have a nicotine patch on my arm, a mouth full of mango gum, and a beautiful woman I loved fiercely at my side. I could live with that.
As we pulled up to the security gate in front of Levee’s mansion, she prattled off a mouthful of codes I’d need to get back in later that afternoon. I had to head up to rePURPOSEd and sign off on some paperwork I’d been ignoring since she’d gotten back, but Levee was staying at her place to get things ready for the little get-together for my family and friends she’d insisted on throwing before she left the following morning.
Levee still wasn’t keen on announcing our relationship to the press yet, mainly because we’d been so successful at staying under the radar. San Francisco wasn’t LA. Paparazzi weren’t lurking around every corner. Just the night before, we had managed to sneak into a movie undetected. We were just a normal couple who’d gotten there late, made out in the top row like teenagers, then left early to have sex in the back seat of my car—granted, it was securely inside my garage when we’d done it, but she’d definitely ended the night with her ass naked on my back seat all the same. I wasn’t in any more of a hurry to give up the small things like that than she was.
However, she was full steam ahead about meeting my mom and Ryan. And, with Ryan, came Meg, her husband Ty, and, of course, Morgan.
And, because Morgan was going to be there, Levee had guilted Henry into coming too.
“I love you,” Levee whispered against my lips as I prepared to leave.
“I love you too. I’ll be back with the crew at four. We’re all meeting at my place then caravanning back up here.”
She smiled and nodded absently.
“You nervous?” I asked.
She nodded again.
“Don’t be. My mom loves you already.”
She picked invisible lint off my shirt. “Did you tell her that I know Lionel?”
“Um, if I had, I wouldn’t tell you not to be nervous. I’d tell you to run and hide.”