Chapter 28
Dax
“Are you sure you can’t come to Vegas with me?” Kai asks. We are at the gym again, spotting each other on the bench. Despite the fact I come here nearly every day, usually very early before work, I wanted to get in some extra time before the trip.
“Sorry, brother, I got other plans.”
“What could be better than going to Vegas with your friends? Damien will be there. You remember Damien.”
“The guy who looks like a vampire?” I ask.
“The guy who started that clothing company in Colorado Springs. From the sound of it, he’s been collaborating with Ralph Lauren. Not to mention Ian. He’s just a magazine editor these days but he’s still a hoot. All of us are. And you know what else? All of us are single.”
There’s a beat where I don’t say anything, I just lift.
“You are still single, aren’t you?” he presses. My patience, not weights.
“Not in so many words,” I say when I feel like it.
“So yes. You’re seeing someone.”
I don’t want to talk about it for obvious reasons, but Kai takes the bar from me and resets it, and I’m forced to engage in conversation.
I’ve never liked lying to people, especially people I care about.
And as much as Kai is a total idiot some of the time (okay, a lot of the time), he is still my friend.
But it’s not like I have any other choice right now.
So, I sit up.
“Who is she?” he asks.
“Someone I met online.”
“Online dating. I fucking knew it.”
“Why did you fucking know it?” I snap. I am already unamused.
“One, it’s how every busy and or lazy person finds someone these days. And also, it just seems like a you thing to do. So, what’s her deal?”
“Her deal?” I stand up and reach for my water bottle.
“Yeah. Why her and no one else? Is she hot? She’s hot right?”
Despite the fact I hate the way he asked the question, I must have a smirk on my face because Kai laughs and nudges me.
“Of course she is. You always get the hot girls. Even if you are graying around the edges a little.”
My hand instinctively runs through my hair.
“I am going to say this though,” Kai goes on as if he doesn’t always just speak his mind. “You’ve been different.”
“Different how?” I ask.
“Different…good. Different…happy. You’re more laid back, less stressed out, less angry.
I mean shit, you’re even being nice to my sister about not turning the shop inside out.
I’m not too sure about that, by the way.
But for real. I’m not trying to be sappy here, but I haven’t seen you like this since… ”
Since Tess died.
“I know,” I say. Those feelings have been floating around my mind too. Complicated little things that I’m not sure what to do about. It’s easier just to go with the flow with how I feel in the moment and not overthink it. And when I’m with Libby, it’s easy to know how to feel. It just feels…right.
“Anyways, she must be something else if you’re willing to pass up our annual Vegas trip to be with her, especially since it’s the only time of year your kids are with their grandparents and not your high-strung sister-in-law. Maybe you should take her somewhere.”
“Take who somewhere?” I ask.
“Your girl. You’re staying home for her but why stay home? Take her on a trip. Just don’t take her to Vegas. It might be kind of awkward if me and the boys are picking up chicks on the strip and run into you two love birds, am I right?” he nudges me.
He has no fucking idea.
As we are getting ready to leave the gym, I throw on a black t-shirt and bend down to grab my bag. As I do, I catch my own reflection in the wall mirror that spans the length of the room. I run my hand through my hair. “Is it really that obvious?” I ask.
“What?” Kai stops next to me. “Your grays? I mean…it’s not invisible.”
“But do you think she notices it?”
He offers a one shoulder shrug. “Depends. How much younger is she?”
“Fifteen years. Ish,” I say and Kai grins.
“Nice. But also, yeah. She notices. Most girls do. They’re shallow like that.
At least some of them. The thing you gotta figure out is– is she one of those girls who likes an older man and all the characteristics of one?
If so, you’re golden. Or is she silently thinking about those gray hairs while also noticing much younger, less silver men on the streets out of her peripheral? ”
“I don’t think L–” I stop. “She’s not like that.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about,” he says, walking out. “Let’s grab a brew. I’m thirsty as fuck and I could go for a burger too.”
“Maybe some other time,” I say. “I have something to take care of.”
When I get home, I take the bag I just got from Walgreens and go into the bathroom. Again, I look in the mirror. Again, I run my hand through my hair.
Libby isn’t a shallow girl. I know that much.
She’s sweet, real, and smart, and the least superficial girl I’ve ever met.
And yet– these gray patches are growing.
And since my hair is blonde, they really show.
It’s not like the guys with dark hair who look sophisticated and sharp with streaks of silver.
It makes my hair look washed out. Even though it’s not thinning at all.
Even though I have a great hairline that never seems to recede.
I look old.
And on days when I go to the gym, take the girls to school, go to work, pick them up, do all the home life dad things and barely have time to check emails, let alone watch a game or get a beer with the guys, I feel old. I hit the bed like a dead man before 10pm.
I pull the box out of the bag and open it. The instructions might as well be in French (I think on the reverse side, they actually are) because they feel so foreign. How hard can dying your own hair be though?