Ren

"Well, you were lucky, Ms. Schemer. Your car did an excellent job of protecting you. Your hands are fine—no broken bones. They most likely got hit when the airbag panel popped off."

Phew. A wave of cool relief washes over me.

The tall and lanky ER doctor sits at the computer, taps in a few notes, and continues speaking to me. "They will most likely bruise up and feel stiff, but they should feel much better in a day or so. You can just take ibuprofen for any pain." Then he looks up from the screen to make eye contact. "You might still develop whiplash, so monitor yourself. Look for neck pain or stiffness. Other than that, you're ready to be discharged."

"Okay. Thank you. Um, my fiancé... Gio Regali... has he been discharged yet?"

"No, he's still being monitored. His injuries were also minor, but due to his manic behavior, he's being held for observation. Dr. Larson has a few questions to ask you about him. I'll send her in."

"Okaaay." An unsettling buzz forms in my body again.

My eyes drop to my lap as he exits the room again. My hands are all scraped up and whiter than usual. I test them out again—slowly opening and closing them. They move stiffly and painfully, and I can't quite make a fist, but I'm relieved they're not broken. After ten everlasting minutes of sighing and waiting, Dr. Larson, a stout middle-aged woman, enters the tiny room.

"Hello, Lauren, is it?" she asks, looking down at her notes. "And you're Giovanni's fiance?"

"Yes. How is he doing?"

"He's doing okay," she says, pushing her glasses further up the bridge of her petite nose and giving an enigmatic look. "There was a little bit of... resistance, but we got a hold of his psychiatrist, confirmed the medication he's been on, and upped the dosage of those mood stabilizers."

She flips to the second page of her notes. "He's not showing signs of psychosis, so that's good. We are waiting on some blood work to see if his medication is in the 'therapeutic range,' But I think he'll be released in a few hours, and he can go see his psychologist in the afternoon as planned."

"Great! So it works that fast?"

She sits down on the stool, rests her clipboard in her lap, and sighs. There are bags under her eyes, but they shine on me kindly.

"We're not sure yet if it'll work at all, but hopefully it will. Let's cross our fingers that it does," she smiles at me softly.

"What if it doesn't work?"

"Then he can try another medication. It's kind of trial and error," she shrugs and picks up her clipboard again. "Let me ask you, when did you first notice a shift in his behavior?"

"Oh, um... well..." It feels hard to organize my thoughts; my brain feels like jangling bells. I reached back to when I first noticed him acting differently. "Um, in Hawaii, really. He wasn't sleeping very much, but I didn't think that much of it at the time. I mean, vacation sometimes screws up sleep, right?"

"How long ago was that?"

"Um, about two weeks ago?"

"Okay," she says, scribbling notes down. "Besides sleeping differently, did you notice anything else?"

I shrug. "Um, not really... more energetic, maybe?" 

"When did the pressured speech start?"

"Oh, uh, yesterday, but he's been hardly sleeping at all this week. Like four to six hours. He's been really focused on his work." My heart rate picks up as the sudden need to defend him kicks in.

"Mmhmm. And how's his mood been?"

"Good, or more like really good. Sometimes, he has a flash of anger, but it seems to pass quickly."

"Okay. And paranoia?"

"No. Um, maybe a little today, actually." I cringe. My stomach clenches, and my heart rate picks up more speed.

She scribbles another note down, then sets the clipboard back in her lap, readjusts her glasses, and then fixes me with that look again from before. "Well, he had a little bit of an... altercation with a nurse when we tried to treat him with an injectable. He was very... resistant to anyone but his psychiatrist medicating him."

Crap. I can so see that happening. 

She clears her throat. "But we sorted it out, and he's much calmer now."

Oh, thank god! My heart rate starts to slow again.

"So if the medication does work, does that mean he'll be completely back to feeling his normal self again this afternoon?"

"Um, no. His speech might return to normal soon, but I'd expect he'll still feel a little elevated for several days as the medication takes effect."

"And what about dipping into a low?" I hold my breath, and my stomach is taught for the answer I'm afraid to hear.

"He said he's not gone completely off his prescription—just skipped a few doses. So, if that's true, I'm hopeful that with this boost in medication, we will see it take effect fairly quickly. If he keeps it up—which is why we were trying to get him to take a monthly injectable so he doesn't have to remember to take it—he should hopefully not dip into a depressive state."

I let out a huge sigh and felt my shoulders relax. "I'm so relieved to hear that! You have no idea!"

"I can't promise you that he won't. He needs to be very careful. You can help by checking that he's taking his medication every day. But, in case he does, have you helped him through a depressive episode before?"

The unsettling buzz is back. "No."

She nods. "I can give you a brochure and a number you can call. It also might help to talk to his psychiatrist about what he needs to be doing to keep himself stable." She smiles reassuringly, but I don't know if I feel very reassured.

"Can I see him?"

"I think you still need to wait to be discharged, but then yes. You can ask the nurse to take you to his room."

♥︎♥︎♥︎

Gio

With just an hour to spare before my psychiatrist's appointment, I'm finally released from the fucking ER, and we walk out of the large sliding doors, blinking into the bright light. The sunshine glints like golden stars off the drenched cars in the parking lot—the eerie dark blue of the storm receding into the distance. We both take a deep breath of cool, clean, calm air.

"Ready to go?" Ren shoots me an exhausted smile, but then her face falls. "Oh shit, we don't have a car!" She groans, covering her face with her hands.

Shit, that's right. This morning somehow already seems like a memory from days ago.

"Should we get a cab to your appointment?"

I shake my head. "Nah, we got lots of time. Let's just walk and get a bite to eat on the way. That hospital food was gross. I mean, unless you have to get back to work."

"No way! I texted Olivia what happened, and Cheryl's not expecting me in. Actually, I should text Olivia and ask if she can give us a ride home." She fishes her phone out of her bag and starts texting. I wrap my arm around her shoulder and steer us toward downtown.

We stop at a cafe a few blocks down for a quick sandwich, which I scarf down in three minutes flat. I hadn't really eaten anything substantial in...well, I'm not really sure. Ren's still on bite two, staring off into the distance, zoned out. She looks totally wiped emotionally and physically, and honestly, I feel the same. They gave me Xanax on top of upping my regular meds, and after hardly sleeping at all last night, I could really go for a good long nap right about now.

Ren slowly turns her head and catches my eyes. "Gio, I want to come with you to your appointment. Is that okay?"

"Um..."

I've never had anyone attend appointments with me. Well, not since I was in high school when my mom used to come with me. Ren's dad took me to see Dr. Thomson for the very first time four years ago, but he waited outside. I'm feeling a mixed sense of privacy about it, but when I look back at Bella, her eyes are soft and open, and I realize how good it would be to have her there—for a few reasons.

"Yeah, that would be really nice, actually."

We arrive five minutes early, pausing in front of my Psychiatrist's door. I open the door for Ren, and Trevor, the receptionist, greets me and tells us to take a seat. We are quiet again as we wait, and I begin to worry if Dr. Thompson will be disappointed in me. At four p.m. on the dot, we are told to go in.

"Ready?"

"Of course, baby," she says, squeezing my hand.

Dr. Thompson, an older gentleman with crinkly blue eyes and a thick grey mustache, welcomes us warmly at the door. I lead Ren to the small sofa in the softly lit room. Ren sits down and takes my hand, and her calm, supportive vibe helps mellow my energy another notch.

She holds my hand the entire time Dr. Thompson and I chat. He asks me lots of questions and assesses my mood, which, honestly, I don't feel like I have a firm grasp on. But Dr. Thompson is so soothing with his deep, resonating, and reassuring voice that it's easy to feel safe here.

Near the end of the session, Dr. Thompson, Ren, and I have a positive discussion about what she can do to give me support and help get me back on track. He'd like her to help monitor my medication and my habits and help flag any changes to my mood or behavior.

Overall, Dr. Thompson seems very optimistic that I can avoid another depressive episode, and both Ren and I breathe a huge sigh of relief. But I still have one question that's been bugging me.

"But what brought it on in Hawaii if I was taking my medication?" My eyebrows knit together.

Dr. Thompson leans back in his chair. "Possibly your stress level combined with the sudden change in habits that come with taking a vacation."

"Oh," Ren utters, drawing Dr Thompsons attention. "Um, I sort of pressured Gio into taking that vacation." She grimaces.

Dr Thompson smiles. "Don't worry, it wasn't your fault. Even patients who are on their medication can slip into hypomania for no apparent reason whatsoever, and we don't know why. You did the right thing by telling him what you were experiencing from the outside and encouraging him to come to see me today. Next time, it'll be even easier."

"Next time?" Ren glances at me, and I shrug apologetically.

Shit. I thought I warned her... but even I hoped that somehow I had it under control with my meds now. Apparently fucking not. I wonder if this is going to change her mind about marrying... me.

I catch Dr Thompson studying our exchange and body language.

"Don't worry too much, Lauren," Dr. Thompson reassures her with a soft smile. "You both learned a lot through this experience. Gio is one of my best patients, and he takes his condition and treatment very seriously. He's done extremely well these past four years, and even with this hypomanic episode, which is practically unavoidable sometimes, he's done amazing. I'm very, very proud of him."

My heart swells twice its size hearing that, and I can't quite contain the wide smile creeping across my face. Ren pulls my hand onto her lap and squeezes it tight, leaning into me.

"Lauren, I think I should tell you," Dr Thompson continues, "You have been a very important person in Giovanni's life. I'm so heartened to see you two engaged and doing so well together. You were, and are now, a very positive influence on him, and I'm so happy for that."

"Not as happy as I am," I whisper in Ren's ear, squeezing her hand.

Ren's cheeks go bright pink, and suddenly, it looks as though she might be on the verge of tears. My heart wells up looking into her beautiful, glittering eyes. "It's true, Bella, you've helped me get through so many tough times in my life... even when we weren't together, and—"

My voice gets tight, and my eyes begin to grow damp with emotion. Fuck. I clear my throat, then quickly lean over and finish my thought with a tenderhearted kiss. Ren cups her hand around the back of my neck, and I jump slightly as she pulls me in hard. She kisses me ardently, letting me know how much my words moved her.

I faintly hear Dr. Thompson sniffle and then utter, "Eherm!" Ren and I break apart, and all three of us blush slightly.

"Um, where were we? Oh yes." Dr. Thompson sits up straighter. "You might notice that Gio's emotions might still be elevated for the next few days but slowly become somewhat subdued once the heightened dose of mood stabilizers takes full effect over the next two weeks. Once you're stable, Gio, we can adjust it again, so don't think that will be a long-term thing."

He abruptly stands, and we both follow suit. "Okay. Well, you two have had quite a day. Please rest this weekend, Gio. Try not to focus on work if you can. It'll be waiting for you to finish it on Monday, and I'll see you next week."

"Thank you, Dr. Thompson," I say soberly. "For everything today."

He pats me lovingly on the back and walks us to the door. "Of course, Gio. Take care now."

The door behind us with a click, and I turn to Ren. "You know, Bella, that car crash was scary as fuck, but I still think everything happens for a reason." I pull her in for a hug. "I'm so glad I got here today and that you came with me. Thank you."

"Well, that was quite the way to get you here. I'm sorry I had to total my car to do it!"

"Nah. You needed a new car anyway. That old Acura sucked rocks." I bite my lip but fail to keep the shit-eating grin off my face. She wrinkles her nose at me and punches my shoulder, though soon, we are both cracking up over our whole crazy situation.

"God, I hope I don't run into Bryce on the way out," she says, wiping the laughter out of her eyes. "Olivia is going to meet us in the garage."

"Here, follow me," I smirk.

Taking her hand, I lead her away from the elevator, down the long hall, and into the emergency stairwell—just like I used to when I was trying to avoid her.

Damn. We've come a long way since then.

♥︎♥︎♥︎

https://youtu.be/Hz4jL9yhFkM