Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
I exited my email and went back to my search results, deciding to book a five-day stay at a silent meditation and yoga retreat center on the coast of Maine, starting on Monday. I needed to slow down, unplug, and unwind. I needed to be alone with myself in order to heal and rebalance. I needed to hear that inner voice, the connection to my soul, and I couldn’t do it surrounded by all this noise.
I was desperate for peace, inside and out.
Over the weekend, I talked to Allegra about taking over for me next week and offered her a raise to compensate her for the increased hours and responsibilities. I wasn’t happy with how absent I’d been from my business and my employees lately, but I needed this time to reconnect with myself, contemplate my journey in life and what I wanted to accomplish, and center myself on the right path moving forward.
Love had knocked me way off course.
Nineteen
Dallas
On Friday, Finn and I went into the shop, and I introduced him to Beatriz. I told her I’d scheduled the surgery and really would be gone for a while this time. “I can’t be alone, so Finn invited me to recover at his house.”
She hugged me tightly. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks.”
It was a long time before she released me. “So when do you leave?”
“I haven’t booked a ticket yet, but probably Tuesday or Wednesday. And I have a ton of shit to do before then, so I’m not sure how much I can work.” Besides getting my house in order and packing up, I had to make a will, something I’d never even thought about. Finn had suggested it, although he assured me it was just a precaution, and actually, I hadn’t even freaked out.
Much.
Beatriz waved a hand in front of her face. “Don’t even think about work. Take time to do what you need to do.”
“Thanks. I’ll stop in before I leave and clean out my station. But if it’s okay with you, I was going to give my brother here his first ink.”
She looked at Finn in surprise. “Really?”
He shrugged, a little color coming into his face. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while. Seems like a good time, since I’m here.”
Beatriz nodded. “Absolutely. And you can’t go wrong with Dallas. He’s the best.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “But don’t tell anyone here I said that.”
Finn laughed. “Never.”
She looked at me. “Let’s have a drink before you go, okay? Maybe we can even drag Evan out of the house.”
“Sounds good.”
I took Finn over to my station, and we looked through a book of stencils I had for other tattoos I had done. He didn’t want anything too big and only had one idea—his kids’ names and their birthdates. Nothing wrong with that idea, and I’d have done it, but I thought it might be a little more meaningful if it had more personality. I happened to have some of the artwork Olympia and Lane had sent me taped on the wall in my cubical, and we decided to do their first names in their own handwriting along with their birthdates. Finn liked the drawing I did, and I suggested it might be nice to put it on the left side of his chest.
“Let’s do it,” he said.
I created a stencil, cleaned and shaved the area, and applied the design. Both Beatriz and I thought it was the perfect placement, and Finn gave the go ahead.
“You nervous?” I asked as I finished prepping.
“A little,” he admitted, lying back in the chair. “But I trust you.”
“Good.” Then I pulled on my gloves and got to work.
Finn and I hung out all day Friday, and he helped me make a list of things I should take care of before leaving for Boston, which I’d booked for Wednesday. He loved his new tattoo and said he couldn’t wait to show Bree and the kids. I could tell he felt pretty badass about it, and it made me happy. The only tense moment between us came when he asked if I planned to tell Maren about the surgery. I said no, and he asked my permission to let her know.
“She cares, Dallas,” he said, tipping back his beer at dinner Friday night. He glanced at the ink on my forearm, where the skin was still healing. “And if you care about her—”
“You know I do,” I snapped. “Caring about her isn’t the issue.”
“Then call her.” He set the bottle down hard. “She’d want to know.”
“No.” I focused on my right hand, which was spinning my water glass around. There was no fucking way I could handle hearing her voice.
“Dallas.”
“No, Finn. I promised her I wouldn’t contact her again.” And I could keep that one promise, at least, couldn’t I? For fuck’s sake, I’d broken every other one I’d ever made to her.