Chapter 35
Thirty-Five
Tabitha
I fix my hair and makeup as best I can. I don’t have the skills that Willow and Ginger have, but I’ve taken a good shot at it.
Now, I hope I can erase the just fucked look off my face.
I hold my head high, leave my guest room, and rejoin the party.
Guests are beginning to take their seats for dinner. I didn’t get any appetizers. Not that I feel hungry. But man, I could sure use a drink.
What is it about being here that makes me want to drink?
I enjoy an occasional social cocktail, but I’m certainly not a heavy drinker by any means.
I find my seat all the way at the end of the long table where the wedding party is seated. As far away from Henry as I can possibly get, since he’s on the other side, next to Jason.
I’m near the end of the other side, being the least important bridesmaid. But I’m not at the very end of the table. That place is for Stephen.
Stephen.
My date.
My date who seems to like me, while I was fucking another man only moments ago.
Could I have screwed this up any more?
“I’m sorry to be gone for so long,” I say to him. “I wasn’t feeling well for a moment, and I thought I might be sick. But all I needed was to lie down for a bit.”
He smiles at me. “Don’t worry about it. Sage kept me busy.”
I raise my eyebrows at him.
“Not busy like that, silly.” He chuckles. “But we had a nice time chatting.”
Honestly, that’s wonderful. If he’s interested in Sage, I don’t want him to feel like he needs to hang around me all night. Especially since I’ve had all I can take of his conversation about Reiki and the joys of cupping.
But it would be rude to just tell him to ignore his date, right?
I have no idea what the etiquette is in this situation. I invited him here. And at the time, I wanted to invite him here. He’s nice, handsome, talented with his hands for sure. I just didn’t know that all he would talk about is holistic crap.
And…I kind of have the hots for another guy.
Which I knew when I invited him. I really hoped Stephen would help take my mind off Henry. If anything, all he’s done is make me want Henry more.
But I told Henry where to get off. If I’m just a distraction, he needs to keep his hands to himself.
Part of me regrets saying it, because I like the quickies with him. Quickies with him are better than the longest sex I’ve ever had with anyone else.
God… What might a long night of sex be like with Henry? Where we can spend hours and hours just exploring each other’s bodies, discovering what makes each other tick? I could put my mouth on him, kiss every inch of his gorgeous body.
He’s already put his mouth on me twice, and it was heaven.
I sigh. That’s not going to happen.
The servers come to our table first with the salad, which is almost identical to the one we had last night at the rehearsal dinner. Just basic greens, tomatoes, with a balsamic vinaigrette this time. Toasted walnuts and pecans instead of the pistachios and sunflower seeds.
Bryce Simpson rises and clinks on his glass. “If you all will indulge me, I’d like to offer a word of thanks before we eat.”
Murmurs of agreement follow.
Bryce bows his head and closes his eyes. “We give thanks to our creator for this gathering, for this amazing feast, and for Angie and Jason and the vows they made together today. May they have a truly happy life together.”
Short and sweet. Perfect.
I grab my salad fork and spear into some greens.
“By the way,” I say to Stephen before I bring the forkful of salad to my mouth, “everything’s organic. I checked.”
He nods. “I think Sage said last night that her mother never serves anything other than organic food.”
Now I feel like a dumbass. We did have this conversation last night. And truth be told? I didn’t check with anyone about the organics. I just didn’t want to listen to Stephen launch into another diatribe.
“Right,” I say. “I forgot.”
“It’s very important to eat organic,” he says, “because you’re not just feeding yourself. You’re feeding your future. Every bite either builds you up or breaks you down.”
My mouth is full, so I don’t have to answer. I simply nod and smile through my food.
Lord, just get me through this meal.
Get me through this night.
At least get me to the point where I can say goodbye to Stephen.
He doesn’t talk much more as we finish our salads.
Then the pièce de résistance is served.
And of course, Steel beef takes center stage.
Thick-cut ribeyes, marbled and flame-kissed, arrive on oversize platters, their juices pooling beneath a glossy herb butter. They’re flanked by crisped fingerling potatoes, tossed with rosemary and sea salt, and fire-roasted corn. It’s rustic elegance, Colorado-style.
The food is delicious. I just wish I could enjoy it more.
And I really wish Stephen and I could trade places. Since he’s sitting at the end of the table and has no one on his other side, I feel like I need to talk to him.
But the beautiful thing about Stephen is that he seems to like to hear himself talk. All I have to do is nod and agree every once in a while.
And my God, does he talk.
He swirls the water in his glass as if he’s at a Napa Valley tasting. “Another reason to eat organic is to keep toxic pesticides out of your system.”
I nod politely, stabbing my fork into a fingerling potato. “Right. Pesticides are bad.”
“They disrupt the gut biome,” he says, leaning in. “That’s where most disease starts. You wouldn’t believe the inflammation I see in people’s energy fields.”
Energy fields. Of course.
“Mm-hmm.” I chew slowly, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.
“I’ve actually been working with a few clients who had chronic migraines, and I was able to release the tension with a combination of deep tissue and Reiki,” he adds. “I could show you sometime.”
I swallow. “You want to wave your hands over my face and call it therapy?”
He grins like I’ve just flirted with him. “It’s not waving. It’s intuitive energy channeling. Most people don’t realize their pain is emotional.”
“Right,” I say. “Emotional rib pain. Classic.”
He chuckles. “You’re funny. But seriously, your posture could use some work. I can tell from the way your shoulders slope. You carry stress like a weight across your clavicles.”
I blink. I believe he just insulted me. “Thanks for noticing.”
He raises both hands in front of him. “Hey, I’m just saying.
Maybe you didn’t get anything out of Reiki in a chair this afternoon, but I know you’d feel amazing after a session of my deep-tissue Reiki.
I’ve got this heated table, I use essential oils, ambient soundscapes—really good for nervous system regulation. ”
I sip my wine. “And here I thought we were just here for the beef.”
He chuckles again, like I’m being charming instead of sarcastic. “I like your energy. You’ve got a lot going on under the surface.”
Oh God. Here we go.
“Tell me,” I say, deciding to mess with him. “What color is my aura?”
He studies me for a moment. “I see some violet and gold. Definitely empathic. But there’s a storm of red and gray. Some blockage around the heart chakra.”
“Could be indigestion,” I mutter.
“What?”
“Nothing.” I down the rest of my wine. If I’m going to make it through this dinner, I’m going to need a refill. Or three.
“Did you even let yourself be open to the energy?” he asks.
“I was sitting in a chair with hairspray clogging my sinuses,” I say, sipping my wine. “I’m sorry I didn’t get anything out of the non-touching massage.”
He chuckles, like I’m the punchline to some cosmic joke. “It’s subtle. Most people don’t feel it right away. It takes time to break through all the blocks.”
“Or maybe there’s nothing to break through,” I say. “Maybe I’m just one of those lost causes. Dead inside and resistant to miracles.”
“You’re not dead inside,” he says, tilting his head with that annoyingly earnest expression. “You’re just out of alignment. Your sacral chakra is tight as hell.”
I snort. “Are you diagnosing my sex life now?”
He grins. “Not unless you want me to.”
I narrow my eyes, but I’m already smiling, damn it. “Don’t you ever get tired of being so…Zen?”
“Nope.” He reaches for a slice of bread. Apparently gluten is okay. “My work keeps me grounded. Touch heals more than flesh. It calms the nervous system, moves stagnation. You wouldn’t believe the trauma people hold in their hips.”
“I believe it,” I say dryly. “Especially after this dress fitting.”
He laughs. “You’re such a skeptic.”
“I’m realistic.”
He purses his lips. “You’re guarded.”
“Says the man who probably burns sage in his apartment before dates.”
He winks. “Gotta clear the energy of the last girl.”
“Oh my God.”
“Don’t knock it,” he says. “You’d be surprised how much bad mojo people bring into your space. That’s why I only eat organic food. It’s not just health. It’s vibration.”
I squint at him. “So your carrots have good vibes?”
“Exactly.”
I swirl my wine and glance around. “Well, these fingerling potatoes are singing.”
He leans in. “You know, you’re more receptive than you think.”
“And you’re more persistent than I expected.”
“That’s because I like you,” he says simply.
I raise an eyebrow. “Even though I think your Reiki is expensive hand-waving that rich girls are willing to pay for so they can dish about how amazing they feel at the club?”
“Especially because of that,” he says, smiling. “You challenge me.”
“And you like a challenge?”
He shrugs. “Most men prefer someone who challenges them.”
“Really? I thought most men preferred women who fall into bed with them.”
He laughs then. A real laugh. “You’ve got me all wrong, Tabitha. Have I come on to you once? Other than a brief kiss last night?”
I blink. “Well…no.”
“There you go.”
“So if I told you I want you to take me somewhere private and fuck the daylights out of me right now, you’d turn me down?”
His dark eyes twinkle. “Well, I am a man, after all.”
I scoff. “See what I mean?”
“But that wouldn’t be a challenge. And I wouldn’t respect you the way I do now.”
“I see. If I sleep with you, I lose your respect.”
He shakes his head. “You’re twisting my words around.”
“Am I?” I lean in. “You say you like a challenge—that most men like a challenge—yet you admit you’d take me up on the offer, which I haven’t made, by the way.”
He nods. “No, you haven’t made the offer.”
“There you go,” I say, echoing his earlier words.
He takes a sip of his water. “And I happen to know why you haven’t made the offer.”
I play with the stem of my wineglass. “You do, huh?”
He exhales sharply through his nose. “I do.”
I suppress an eye roll. “Care to enlighten me?”
“It’s not because you don’t find me attractive.”
I nod. “Sure, you’re attractive. Gorgeous, even.”
He smiles. “So are you.”
“Thank you. But that’s not telling me why you think I haven’t offered to take you to bed.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“You obviously overestimate your own allure, Stephen, if you think I would have made the offer after knowing you for a mere twenty-four hours.”
He narrows his gaze. “You think so?”
“I do.”
“I think there’s a scenario where you might have made the offer.”
God, he’s maddening. Does he truly think he’s God’s gift to women?
Boy, did my radar screw me over. I thought he was a nice attractive guy who would make a good wedding date.
Not bore me to tears with his Zen talk and then basically tell me there’s a scenario where I might take him to bed.
If it ever had a chance of happening, he’s blown it now.
“I can guarantee you there is no scenario, but you’ve got my curiosity piqued.”
He chuckles. “Good. That makes you all the more challenging.”
I draw in a breath. “Stephen, let’s get one thing straight. I am not going to invite you to my bed. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever. Are we clear?”
He laughs again, damn him.
“We’re very clear, because you’re already fucking someone here.”
I gulp. “Excuse me?”
“Tabitha, I read auras.” He sets down his fork like he’s just dropped a cosmic truth. “And yours? Yours is tangled up in stormy red and smoky gray. That’s sacral and heart chakra chaos, babe. Which means lust and confusion. And someone here is lighting you up like a bonfire.”
I stare at him, stunned silent for half a second. “That’s ridiculous.”
He gives me that maddening, knowing look—the kind only smug spiritual types can pull off. “Is it?”
I cross my arms. “Stephen, reading auras is not a science.”
“Nope,” he says, unfazed. “It’s more accurate.”
I narrow my eyes. “You think I’m sleeping with someone.”
“I think you’re not sleeping,” he counters. “Not well, anyway. And someone here is the reason you’re spinning. I don’t need to know who. That doesn’t matter. All I know is that it isn’t me, and your energy is leaking all over the place.”
I sputter for a minute before I can form an articulate sentence. “Maybe I’m just stressed. My best friend is getting married, I’m stuck in these heels, and these chairs have no back support. Plus I’m a med student. We’re perpetually stressed.”
He leans in. “Or maybe it’s because you hooked up with someone you can’t have. Someone who left a mark.”
My stomach tightens, and I hate that it does.
He catches it. Because of course he does. “Ah,” he says, softly. “There it is.”
I push back from the table a little. “You know what? Maybe you are good at reading people.”
“I didn’t say it to shame you,” he says. “I said it so you’d stop pretending I’m the problem.”
I blink. “What?”
“You’ve been keeping me at arm’s length all night like I’m going to ruin something. Like I’m the threat. But you’ve already been burned, haven’t you?”
I look away.
He lets the silence stretch for a beat. “Tabitha, I like you. I’m not trying to sleep with you. I just think you should stop punishing yourself for wanting someone who made you feel something. Even if it was messy.”
I exhale slowly. “I didn’t ask for therapy, Stephen.”
“You didn’t have to.” He grins again. “Your aura did.”
God.
I could slap him. He’s saying terrible things to me. The kind of things you don’t say to your wedding date.
And the worst part?
He’s right on the fucking money.
This evening—and this weekend—can’t end soon enough.