Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 77120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77120 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Oh God. I’ve already heard all about Reiki. I think it’s a bunch of crap, to be honest.
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything,” Gina says. “I noticed that it was something that you offered at the salon. But it’s not massage, right? Or is it?”
“No, it’s not massage in the way you think of massage,” Stephen says. “Reiki isn’t about muscle. It’s about energy.”
Which is why I think it’s crap. But Gina and Sage seem to be very interested.
“Tell us more,” Gina says.
He grins. “It’s a subtle, quiet kind of work. No kneading, no digging elbows into knots. Just still hands and intention. I place my palms just above the body—or sometimes lightly on it—and let the energy flow. Not mine exactly, but through me. Like I’m the wire, not the power source.”
“Do you suggest Reiki in addition to massage?” Sage asks.
“They do work well in tandem. Oftentimes I’ll work in Reiki movements during a massage. But if you want the true benefits of Reiki, book an appointment for an hour, and let’s try it together.”
“I’m so intrigued,” Gina says.
“Me too,” Sage agrees.
Stephen looks at me expectantly.
“Well, I’ll be leaving after the weekend.”
Stephen tilts his head a bit, and I can’t quite read his expression, but then he turns back to the others.
Just as well.
I continue eating my dinner. I’m not a huge fan of asparagus, but whatever seasonings they put on this have made it wonderfully palatable. The potatoes and chutney, of course, are to die for.
I’m grateful that I don’t have to make a lot of conversation. Gina and Sage are hanging on Stephen’s every word.
By next week, I’m sure he’ll be making a mint off both of them for a massage that requires no touch at all.
Yeah, it’s crap.
But they can afford to pay top dollar for a massage where they don’t even get touched.
I drain the rest of my wine and hold my glass up to a server walking by.
Best wine I’ve had in a while.
But that’s not the reason why I want another glass.
I think I’m going to need a cool buzz to get me through the rest of this evening.
Twenty-Six
Henry
I purposefully chose a seat at a table where I have my back to Tabitha.
Still, my neck itches to turn, look over my shoulder, even though I know all I’ll see is her eating her dinner.
I’m at one of the larger tables with my mother and father, Dave and Maddie, and Angie and Jason. Sage is sitting with Tabitha and her date along with our cousin Gina.
I can hear Sage’s laughter from here, even over the buzz of the entire party. But that’s Sage. Always having a good time. Always laughing.
I used to be so much like her.
Even though we’re outside, I feel like something is closing in on me. There are too many people here.
But if this is bothering me, how am I going to feel tomorrow when there are over a hundred people in our yard? First for the wedding, and then for the reception.
And I’m the best man. I’m expected to make a toast to Jason and Angie.
Six months ago, I could’ve done that with my eyes closed. I know Angie as well as anyone. And though I only just met Jason, he’s an amazing guy and perfect for my sister. I didn’t like the fact that they started out as a professor and student sleeping together, but Jason has been to hell and back, and I know he loves my sister and will care for her in the way she deserves.
I was best man when Dave married Maddie—the famous Steel and Pike quadruple wedding—and I had nothing written down. All I had to do was talk about Dave, roast him a little, and talk about Maddie, who is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met.
Easy.
All of that was before.
Now I have a hard time talking about things.
A hard time letting myself feel anything.
But I’ll fake it until I make it. I’ll get through tonight, and I’ll get through tomorrow. And on Sunday?
Tabitha will drive home, and I can get back to normal.
Well, my new normal, anyway.
Kind of a solitary existence—work, head over to my place to see how the construction is going, and then back home to Mom and Dad’s, where sometimes I join them for dinner and sometimes I don’t.
They’re letting me have my space, and I appreciate it.
But I have to deal with everything sooner or later. Especially if…
I freak out a little at the idea that follows those words.
It isn’t an idea so much as it is Tabitha’s image.
Not just how she looks on a day-to-day basis—beautiful and brown-eyed—but also how she looks in the throes of orgasm, her lips slightly parted, her eyes heavy-lidded, her cheeks flushed.
So beautiful.
If I truly want something with Tabitha, I’ve already screwed it up. She didn’t deserve to be taken in the manner I’ve taken her twice now.