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I bit down a grin. "Point taken. Are you thinking the Cape?"
He'd managed to keep his favorite property on Cape Cod in the final divorce agreement, deciding instead to give Miranda the rest of their joint properties and a large cash settlement in order to keep her out of his business affairs. With the threat of Kieran's recording being released publicly, Miranda had suddenly been quite amenable to Brandon's still-generous offer.
But Brandon shook his head. "No. I was thinking...what if we just got in the car and drove? No David, no security. No nothing."
I raised a skeptical brow. "No security? Really? Do you think that's safe? Zola said just because Messina's in holding doesn't mean we're not targets. Not until the trial's over."
He bit his lip. "Well, maybe just one. You want Craig or Lucas?"
It was then I wondered if he was feeling as trampled by his security as I was. It couldn't be easy being someone people followed around all the time, an easy target as the pressure mounted. I was starting to get used to Lucas's perennial shadow, but that didn't mean it didn't chafe.
"Lucas," I said as I pulled him close. "He's quieter. First breakfast. Then let's go."
~
So Brandon steered the Mercedes out of the city, followed by the Escalade at enough of a distance that I almost forgot it was there. We meandered through the low foothills of Massachusetts, taking exits and getting back on, seeing parts of New England I hadn't known were there. Eventually, we ended up in Vermont, where mountains started to rise out of the green countryside, set off by quaint brick towns that recalled an era from maybe two hundred years ago or more.
"I'm starving," Brandon said as we started driving through Woodstock, a small town about two hours northwest of Boston. "What do you think about getting something to eat and then finding a hike? I need to get out of the car."
After sharing a burger for lunch, we decided to hike up Mount Tom on the advice of the restaurant owner who had served us our lunch. There were surprisingly few people on the trail for a Saturday afternoon––apparently, there was some sort of festival going on in a nearby town. While I did notice a few hikers glancing curiously at Brandon as we passed, no one stopped us (possibly thanks to Lucas lumbering about twenty paces behind us).
When we reached the top of the small mountain, we stood overlooking the valley on the other side. While some of the trees were starting to turn yellow here and there in the mid-September sunshine, most of the trees remained a lush sea of green that covered the landscape for miles.
"So, I don't want to wait too long," Brandon said as we sat down on the bench at the summit. The trail hadn't been empty, but right now we were the only ones at the top of the mountain.
He pulled off his frayed Red Sox hat and shook out his loose, slightly sweaty waves.
I looked at him. "For..."
"The wedding."
We'd barely mentioned the topic of our marriage since the night I––well, we––had proposed. There hadn't seemed any point, since according to a red-faced Cory, we had to keep it secret a while yet anyway. But I'd meant what I'd said that night. I'd married him today if that was what he really wanted.
We hadn't even talked about what kind of wedding we wanted to have. I knew that Brandon had already done the big church wedding. Months ago, a quick, painful Google search had revealed archived photos in the Boston society pages. He and an impossibly beautiful Miranda had been married at Trinity, the sprawling Episcopalian behemoth in Back Bay, in front of an audience of five hundred.
It was the last thing I wanted. But what did Brandon want?
"I just want our life together to start," he said, taking my hand in his.
He brushed his thumb over my ring, rubbing the tiny stones that circled my finger. The eternity ring that was so different from what most women received.
If I hadn't already known he loved me, the ring would have told me. Subtle and small, although no doubt the finest craftsmanship money could buy, it was a far cry from the usual splendor of Brandon's life–-splendor, I had come to realize, he usually allowed others to choose for him. This was a sign that before he even realized it, he understood who I was––someone who didn't need or want that kind of opulence.
"It has started," I said as I looked up at him. "It started the day we met, didn't you know?"
For that I got a shy smile, the kind that warmed my heart whenever I saw it. He closed his eyes for a moment, long lashes shadowing the tops of his cheeks in the afternoon sun.
"I do know," he said. "But...I want everyone else to know it too."
"Cory will say it's terrible for your campaign."
"Cory knows what to do with the fuckin' campaign."
I blanched, a little taken aback. It was the second time today that he had brushed off his run for mayor. Wasn't a future in politics what he wanted?
Brandon sighed, the afternoon shadows highlighting the dark circles under his eyes. For the first time since I'd met him, he actually looked his age. Sure, he still had that ruddy glow that came from running several miles every morning. I had yet to find a single gray hair in his thick blond hair, and the rest of his body...forget about it. But right now, I could see the way the wrinkles at the edges of his eyes seemed a little more pronounced than usual, the way the creases on his forehead seemed slightly deeper, and the way the skin underneath his eyes was darkened and a bit puffy.
When he opened his bright blue eyes, they just looked weary.
