“Shush.” This time he placed his entire palm over her mouth. “I don’t want to hear any more of your silly protests. And that’s an order from your very overbearing, controlling fiancé.”

Tessa actually laughed then, though the sound came out more like a croak after so much crying. She snuggled closer against him, her eyes closing with exhaustion, and Ian thought she had fallen asleep after a few minutes. But then she asked, in a barely audible voice that almost shook with fear, “What are we going to do? How are we going to get through this?”

He combed through the tangle of her blonde curls with his fingers. “One step at a time, love, that’s how,” he replied steadily. “I’ve been texting back and forth with Jordan for a couple of hours now, and he’s trying to get us an appointment with a psychiatrist in San Francisco who’s a noted expert in the field of bipolar disorder. We’re going to meet with this doctor, get her diagnosis and opinion, have every genetic test currently on the market done. Then we go from there. And if we need to consult with another doctor, have more tests done, then we do. As you’re aware, I’m a very, very wealthy man. We’ll fly halfway around the world to find you the very best doctors if that becomes necessary. I won’t spare any expense to get the answers we need.”

The expression in her blue eyes was filled with both love and dread. “What - what happens if the diagnosis is positive?” she whispered.

Ian shrugged. “We work with the doctors to get you the right medication, the right therapy. Keep in mind, love, that while it’s a terrible disorder, it’s not a death sentence, not even close. It’s not terminal cancer or ALS or some other incurable disease. Many people live normal, happy lives. Unfortunately, your mother and grandmother never received the right sort of treatment, or had the necessary support to battle their disorders. That won’t be the case with you, Tessa. But let’s think positively, hmm? I know you almost as well as I know myself, have lived with you almost round the clock for a year now, and I think I would have noticed any sort of odd behavior.” He tucked a long strand of hair behind her ear, smiling at her warmly. “And you’re the least odd person I’ve ever met. In fact, I would say that you were as perfect as they come. At least, you’ve always been my idea of the perfect woman.”

She’d fallen asleep after that, but it had been a restless sleep, and for the next seven days she had visibly struggled to hold herself together. Ian had frantically tried everything in his power to help her, to console and reassure her that everything would be fine, and mostly to keep her mind off the matter by making sure she stayed busy and providing her with distractions.

With Tessa’s consent, he had called her two closest friends - Julia and Sasha - and briefly explained the situation, and both women had quickly jumped into action to help. Julia had cajoled and then finally bullied Tessa into going out to lunch and shopping with her, and she and Nathan had invited them out to dinner one evening. Sasha, bless her heart, had made it a point to visit Tessa every single day this past week, whether it was for a massage or a private yoga session or simply to sit and meditate with her. Ian had thought about calling the cantankerous Mrs. Carrington for advice, and to suggest she give Tessa a stern talking to in the hope of snapping her out of the funk she was in, but reconsidered the idea at the last minute. Tessa was a very private person, much like himself, and he wanted to respect her wishes to keep this news to themselves until they had more information.

Ian glanced at her now as she waited for the doctor anxiously, clasping and unclasping her hands as she often did when she was agitated or on edge. If she hadn’t fixed her hair into a thick knot at her nape today, he knew she would have also been twirling a lock of it around her fingers over and over. He hated seeing her this way, pale and worn out, a shadow of her usual vibrant self. She was dressed in a rather subdued black and white polka dot dress, black cardigan sweater, and low heeled sling-back pumps. Her makeup consisted only of a swipe of pink lip gloss, and the only jewelry she’d bothered to wear was her engagement ring. And he was fully prepared to glue the damned thing to her finger in order to make sure it stayed firmly in place.

But despite her rather demure appearance, she still possessed that heady sexual allure that was simply part of who she was. Ian figured she would still be turning heads when she was well into middle age and beyond, having the sort of pure, classically beautiful features that almost always aged well.

And she certainly never failed to stir his blood, especially now when they hadn’t had sex since last Friday morning in their hotel suite in Minneapolis, just before that ill-fated drive out to Oak Grove. Tessa had been so fragile, so vulnerable and withdrawn, that he would have felt like the most inconsiderate of men to even suggest they have intercourse. He’d merely held her in his arms each night when it came time for bed, letting her cling to him as she silently sought out comfort, but he hadn’t tried to initiate any further physical activity between them.

It had been the longest stretch of abstinence for them since her emergency surgery and subsequent recovery period last September, and Ian couldn’t help the ache he felt in his groin at just being close to her this way. The light, floral scent of her perfume tantalized him, as did the swell of her breasts against her silky dress, and the sight of her long, shapely legs crossed at the knee.

She glanced up at him then, and a slow smile crossed her face as she noticed the way he was looking at her. Tessa took his hand in hers and gave it a slight squeeze.

“I miss you, too,” she whispered. “And I’m sorry that I haven’t exactly been in the mood for - well, you know.”

“It’s all right, darling,” he assured her. “I understand how upsetting all of this has been for you. And we don’t always have to have sex in order to be intimate, you know. There’s a great deal more to true intimacy than just the physical part. It’s connecting on an emotional and mental level as well.”

She leaned over and gave him a sweet, soft kiss, and when she lifted her lips from his her blue eyes were glowing. “I do love you, Ian,” she murmured. “So much. And I’m sorry to have been such a head case this week. I’m just having -”

Whatever she was about to say next was interrupted by the arrival of Doctor Ellen Gatlin. Ian had seen the photos of her on her website while doing extensive research on her training and background - undergraduate degree from Yale, medical degree from Columbia, residency at Johns Hopkins. He knew she was in her late fifties, had never married or had children, and had been practicing in San Francisco for more than twenty years.