Chapter 2
Diem
“We met when you were in the hospital. I don’t understand why I have to do this.
” I tugged the offending tie and its stupid crooked knot loose and started again.
The bullshit rhyme about a fox and rabbit that Nana had taught me as a kid when I’d been desperate to learn the skill wasn’t working.
Maybe I was chasing the rabbit the wrong way.
Who the fuck invented this stupid rhyme anyway? Kids didn’t wear neckties.
Tallus appeared at the bathroom door and leaned against the frame as he watched me fumble through another attempt.
He looked as gorgeous as always in trendy dark jeans and a breezy silk shirt that probably cost half a month’s rent.
I didn’t fucking care. The man would put us back in debt with his spending habits, but at least he’d do it in style.
“Guns, we’ve been dating for over a year and a half.
It’s time to officially meet the parents.
My mother is driving me up a wall, and I can’t keep making excuses.
In her defense, when I was shot and lying in a hospital, you didn’t acknowledge or exchange a single word with her.
You sat in a chair, brooding and grinding your teeth to dust.”
“I was stressed. You were shot. You almost died.”
“I had a minor bruise.”
“It wasn’t a minor—”
“The point is, she wants to meet the man I love. Properly.”
The motherfucking knot was crooked again. I cursed, growled, and ripped the tie over my head, throwing it into the bathtub. “Fucking piece of shit.”
“You’re freaking out.”
“I’m not freaking out.” I was totally freaking out.
“Give me the tie.” He held out his hand.
Popping my knuckles and exhaling as much toxic air from my lungs as I could, I found my center. Retrieving the tie from the bathtub, I bit out, “I can do it myself.”
I undid the knot, draped it around my neck, and started again. My hands trembled of their own volition. I needed a smoke. A strong drink. A new excuse to stay home.
“Why is this such a hot topic for you?” Tallus asked as I mumbled the stupid rhyme in my head.
“Because I’m not exactly the kind of guy you bring home to meet your parents. In fact. I’m the opposite. I’m the guy you lie to your parents about and hope they never find out you’re dating me. Christ, Tallus. What if she asks what my intentions are?”
My too-hot-for-his-own-good boyfriend tried and failed to smother a laugh. “It’s not the 1950s, sweetheart. She won’t.”
“What if she does?”
He rolled his eyes, throwing up his hands. “I don’t know, then you tell her the truth.”
“What does that mean? Am I supposed to say I don’t want to get married or have kids?
That I attend therapy every week because my childhood irreparably damaged me, and I have anger issues and no social skills to speak of?
Do I tell her I’m actively addicted to both alcohol and cigarettes and can’t quit because I don’t know how to handle stressful situations without a crutch?
Which glowing quality should I start with? ”
Echo softly woofed from behind Tallus’s leg.
“I’m fine,” I told the dog, bringing my volume down a notch since I didn’t want to yell. I was not fine. I was an utter wreck.
My good intentions went out the window when I failed to tie the knot again and kicked the counter, toppling the toothbrush holder. “Christ. I can’t fucking do this while you’re staring at me.”
“Let me help, D.”
“No.”
Tallus shoved my protest aside and snagged the tail ends of the tie, tugging me forcefully around to face him. He pinned me with a no-nonsense look.
When I attempted to intervene, he swatted my hand and snagged my chin in a vice grip. “Stop it.”
“I’m not incapable.”
“I didn’t say you were.” He angled my face to his level, so we were eye-to-eye. “I wear neckties three days a week. Three. You wear them a grand total of never. Shut up and let me do this.”
He didn’t loosen his grip on my chin until I submitted with a clipped nod.
“We’re going to dinner at my parents’. Stop acting like I’m marching you to your execution. Chin up.”
Clenching my jaw, I tipped my head to give him access to the tie.
It took Tallus less than twenty seconds to finish.
He secured the knot at my throat and adjusted the collar of the button-up shirt I’d selected for the occasion so it lay flat before smoothing his palm down my broad and heaving chest.
“Perfect. Now relax.”
“I am relaxed.”
Echo whined, siding with Tallus.
“You know,” my boyfriend said, “Jeans and a tee would have been fine. Why the fancy outfit?”
“Tallus, for the love of god, I’m meeting your parents. I have to look presentable.”
“They aren’t British royalty.”
I stared down at myself, suddenly conflicted. Tallus always dressed for the runway. I felt obligated to step up my game. Was it too much?
“You look handsome.”
“I can change.”
“No.” Resting his hands on my cheeks, Tallus drew me down for a kiss.
His soft, tender lips were a balm on my fiery mood.
I closed my eyes and savored the connection, my heart rate slowing.
Without trying, he could take me from a borderline atomic explosion to mellow in under a minute.
I didn’t know how he did it. He cast a spell on me the day I met him, and I’d been under its influence ever since.
“Are you ready?” he asked when we came apart.
“No.”
“You’ve got this, D.”
“I don’t.”
“I promise. It won’t be that bad.” He took my hand and guided me from the bathroom. Echo trotted at my heels.
“Want me to drive?” Tallus asked at the front door.
I huff-snorted. “No. We’ll take the Jeep. If I squeeze into your Jetta, I’ll be wrinkled, sore, and more miserable than I already am by the time we get there.” I addressed the dog. “Want to go for a car ride?”
Echo’s ears perked, and she wagged her tail with a chuff that said yes. I didn’t get her vest. This was a casual evening. Besides, even without it, she stayed attuned to my moods and was prepared to calm me if the storms raged.
Sunday dinner with Tallus’s parents was something I’d tactfully avoided for our entire relationship.
He went weekly, and his mother continuously extended the invitation, but I’d turned it down every time.
My social skills might have improved a fraction over the past couple of years, but entertaining the idea of dinner and conversation with his parents jacked my blood pressure to obscene levels.
Sensing Tallus was fast approaching the end of his patience, I finally relented and told him I would go. The day had arrived, and I regretted everything.
“Do I have time for a smoke?” I attached Echo’s leash as Tallus shoved his feet into a pair of fancy leather loafers.
It was a stupid question. Tallus never chided me for my addictions, but he refused to condone the ugly habits—or acknowledge them—so I wasn’t shocked when he ignored the inquiry and said, “It’s cold out. You’ll want a coat.”
“Right. No smoke.”
I rooted through the hall closet, pushing Tallus’s endless collection of trendy outdoor wear aside in search of my own. Mother Nature was doing her Menopausal March thing, so although it had been unnaturally warm the previous week, the temperatures had plummeted to single digits.
I located the weathered trench coat I favored near the far side of the closet and reached for my grandfather Boone’s fedora on the upper shelf. Yeah, the hat was dated and made me look like a Dick Tracy wannabe, but I didn’t fucking care. It gave me comfort.
Some people had a favorite hoodie or a pair of shoes they adored, or they were Tallus with a penchant for shopping at expensive boutiques and needed the same shirt in every color of the rainbow, despite being colorblind. Clothing had the power to reassure and soothe a person.
I had a hat, a coat, and no fucks to give, the same armor I’d been wearing for over a decade.
While Tallus checked himself in the hallway mirror, I surreptitiously pocketed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. If dinner went as I expected, I might need to escape once or twice to calm down and re-center.
My addictions ebbed and flowed like the tide.
Since Tallus’s hospitalization in the fall, I’d slipped right back to those awful pre-dating habits.
Sometimes, I managed to avoid alcohol, but in its place, I smoked.
Other days, I cut out the cigarettes and drank like a fish.
One or the other. Sometimes both. I couldn’t seem to get a handle on anything.
I drummed my hands on the steering wheel as I drove us to Tallus’s parents’ house. The naked trees along the street stretched their branches toward a miserable gray sky. Night encroached, and the setting sun turned the pollution-hazed city monochrome.
We arrived before I was ready.
I parked in the driveway and killed the engine.
The forward tip of the fedora cast a comforting shadow across my face, providing a childlike place to hide from the world.
I didn’t want to move into the light, shed its protection, expose myself, and venture inside where I would be the focus of too much attention, no matter how well-meant it might be.
In my pre-Tallus days, I’d lived an ogre’s life, certain everyone’s eyes were on me at all times, convinced I heard whispered admonishments whenever I ventured from the house.
I didn’t feel so much like a cave-dwelling monster anymore, but it didn’t mean I was comfortable around strangers or people I barely knew.
Tallus was my buffer. With him, I’d found a modicum of self-confidence, of purpose.
He taught me to be brave and trust myself.
He brought me out into the world and showed me I wasn’t at risk.
When I didn’t move, Tallus squeezed my thigh. Echo, seated in the back, poked her head through the seats and licked my ear, woofing encouragingly.
My two pillars. My bookends. Without them, I might fall apart.
“I’m fine,” I lied.
“You’re making it worse in your head.”
“I know. Let’s go before I change my mind.”