Page 48 of Rather: The Therapist

The Maybach waiting was black in color. I couldn’t wait to see it glisten in the night.

“Good evening, Mrs. Valentine. My name is Quentin. I will be your driver for the night.”

“Nice to meet you, Quentin.”

Mrs. Valentine. It had a slight ring to it. Determined to remain composed, I didn’t allow the skin of my teeth to show until I was seated and the door had closed behind me.

“Kofi Valentine,” I whispered as it all began to sink in.

It wasn’t until now that I knew the name of the man I’d be marrying. Chemistry was aware, yet he refused to divulge.

Kofi Valentine. Mrs. Kofi Valentine. Rather Valentine.

My cheeks flushed with curiosity. My fingers were anxious to begin searching the name, but I stopped myself before I was able to get carried away.

This is why he refused to divulge. He knew that piece of information would send me down a rabbit hole.

I silently thanked Chemistry for his logic and rested my head on the seat behind me. I wasn’t sure how long of a drive we had or where my new home had been prepared. Chemistry had handled the details and made sure I was set up nicely during the ninety day period I was to remain unwed and in the event I needed shelter at any point during my time in the States.

Optimism.

The conversation I’d had with Teddy came rushing back to the forefront of my thoughts. I wouldn’t need the home beyond the ninety days. If things moved according to plan, I wouldn’t need it after the first thirty. There was no need to prolong the inevitable.

I was marrying Kofi. We were going to design a life we loved. And, we’d live happily. As long as we both understood and agreed, the foundation would be solid. Because I knew Chemistry nor our father wouldn’t feed me to the wolves, I believed it was truly possible.

And, it will happen.

With those thoughts engrained, I rested my eyes as the wheels kept turning. It was another thirty minutes before the door swung open and I could tuck away my obsessive thoughts.

“We’re here, Mrs. Valentine.”

“Thank you, Quentin. For now, it’s Ms. Childers.”

He nodded his round head in understanding. “Got it.”

Rather Childers-Valentine. Lengthy, but better.

Dropping my last name was never a desire of mine. I’d been Rather Childers my entire life. Rather Childers had worked hard. Rather Childers had made a name for herself in the therapy she specialized in. It was Rather Childers on all three degrees and the high school diploma.

Rather Childers was the name written on the awards and noted in the accolades. I’d remain Rather Childers even long after my death. Acquiring a man’s last name was an ancient practice that didn’t necessarily carry the same benefits and principles, now.

Then, it was a medal of honor, a way to let others know you were someone else’s property. To let them know you belonged to someone. To a man. I didn’t belong to any man but God. The days when marriage was a woman’s greatest accomplishment in life were long gone.

So, although I was in love with the sound of Rather Valentine, Rather Childers-Valentine sounded better.

“Thank you.”

He busied himself with the bags as I made the journey toward the door. I unlocked it using the key Chemistry had given me just before my departure. The smell of fresh roses filled the entryway. I followed the faint, yet distinctive smell through the foyer where I found a large box of roses waiting for me.

“Ms. Childers,” Quentin called out to me.

Turning to find him with the luggage I’d brought along, I nodded toward the stairs.

“Up the stairs will be fine.”

Though I didn’t know what was up there or where the master suite was located, I knew I wouldn’t be hauling suitcases up. Bringing them down if necessary was less daunting.

“Sure thing. And, then, I’ll be out of your hair.”

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