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 atmy 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 saidyes. 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 uppershelf. 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.
