Page 121 of More Than Chemical
“Thank you, Mr. Reynolds, for your well-chosen words.” The judge nodded.
Dallas turned, and his gaze sought mine. Connected. Fused. Like that day at the polar plunge, when our gazes had locked for the first time.
My heart throbbed.
Truthfulness. That was what this was about. For my dad. For me. For Dallas.
“Mr. Bianchini, please stand,” the judge said.
Dad stood, buttoned up his jacket, and faced her.
Here it was. This was it.
“Mr. Bianchini, your case has been a long and arduous journey.” The judge continued, looking at my dad with eagle eyes. “I have spent a great deal of time thinking about your sentencing, and I tend to agree with Mr. Reynolds. You made mistakes. Actions you took that I believe you regret. Mr. Bianchini, you are sentenced to two months in jail, to be served in a low-security federal corrections institution, one hundred thousand dollars in restitution, and one hundred hours of community service. You’ll have a month to get your things in order, and then you can begin your sentence.”
That was it. The judge was done. Finished. And they weren’t going to escort my dad directly to jail. Thank God.
And…and I needed to talk to Dallas. Right now.
Dad bowed his head. “Thank you, Your Honor.”
The gavel clacked, and just like that, none of us would ever have to step foot in this room again. I leaned over the guardrail and gave my dad a hug.
I looked for Dallas, but he was gone. I couldn’t let him get away. I wouldn’t. He needed to know what was in my heart.
So, I hustled to catch up to him. But just like in the movies, as I entered the hallway, the doors of the elevator closed.
I dashed to the stairs. Down and down I sped to the lobby. I burst through the door only to catch sight of Dallas walking out the front doors onto the plaza in front of the building. I chased after him.
Outside, his fleece beanie was pulled low, his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets.
“Dallas,” I called as I dodged iced-over puddles to catch up to him.
In the very center of the plaza, he stopped and turned around. Within seconds, we were face-to-face, the only thing between us the clouds of condensed air we exhaled.
“I need to tell you something.”
He nodded.
“Back in January, I had this not-so-brilliant idea inspired by the internet where I believed having sex would cure the issues I was having with insomnia.” I paused to swallow and take a breath.
He nodded again. “I know.”
“Then on…on the day of the polar plunge, I heard about your reputation and…and…wait. What did you say?”
“I know, Ade. About the sex cures insomnia. About me being the one to cure it. About how it didn’t work.”
“You do?” I asked.
“Jay told me.”
I narrowed my eyes. “When?”
“A couple weeks ago. After that test we took in chemistry. When you wouldn’t talk to me.”
I shook my head. “And you’re not mad.”
“No.” He shrugged. “You picked me. It was a compliment.”
