chapter sixty-four

I smelled bagels and blinked. Bruegger’s, on Nicollet Mall. Faugh. I loathed bagels.

I was hungry, though, and pleasantly tired, as well as squeaky clean. No idea what Cadence had been up to, but it could not have been too terrible as I felt fine and was ravenous. So I went down the street for a rare sugar indulgence—chai latte (pet peeve: people who said chai tea unaware they were saying tea tea) and a blackberry scone, which I wolfed down in three bites.

Still chewing as I went back outside—it had finally snowed last night—I pulled our phone and saw that there was a voice mail from Cadence. It was refreshingly, yet puzzlingly, brief.

“It’s over! It’s all done with.”

Eh? Ah! She had finalized the breakup with Patrick and moved all our things to Cathie’s—to our new home. Outstanding. Cadence was impressive when she cared to try. That was considerable work, and the physical part, moving boxes, was the least of it.

I would still have to seek out Patrick. I was sure Cadence had explained that we were all breaking up with him, but I still owed him the courtesy of a personal visit, and an apology for my part in helping us lie to ourselves.

All in good time, because I realized what her message meant for me: I was free, too.

I sucked down my tea on the way to Dr. Gallo’s warehouse in the North Loop. I will not deny I had been startled to find he was well-off. A lottery winner, of all things. How absurd and amusing!

I pounded on the door with the flat of my hand and after a long while heard zombie-like footsteps. Well, it was early. The door was jerked opened and there stood Dr. Gallo, deliciously rumpled and yawning, shirtless in a pair of gray boxer-briefs that did nothing to hide the muscles in his long legs or his, ah, morning enthusiasm. If that was the word.

I dispensed with pleasantries and greeted him with, “I appreciate that you wished to give me time. I no longer require time. Kiss me. Then fuck me. No, never mind: I shall fuck you.”

“Huh? Oh.” I kicked the door shut behind us and walked him into the back where I assumed he had a bedroom. “Shiro…”

“I know,” I murmured against his mouth, struggling out of my jacket while backing him toward the bed. “I have wished for this, too.”

“Oh boy … the thing is, I’m really tired.”

“I am, as well. Tired of denying my feelings. The time for that is all past. Kiss me back! We shall make love all morning.”

His groan affirmed that, at last, our lives were on the right path. I would not trade mine for anyone’s, not ever.