Page 596 of Hell Hath No Fury
He chuckles, and I snuggle closer to his warmth as his hand caresses the length of my spine. “No, I did,” he assures me. “Your face was a sight everyone will be talking about for weeks. They’ll no doubt be sad to hear there won’t be a repeat performance for some time.”
Doubt creeps into the haze of the afterglow and I sit up, the air suddenly stifling. “I’m not ruling it out. This is just new for me.”
He brushes a hand over my hair, presses a kiss to my temple. “I know. No strings remember? Now lay here on this bench for a few minutes and let me tend to you. Then, I’ll let you go.”
As he rubs me down with a soothing cooling gel and tends to my tender ass and legs, I know I’m going to have to think long and hard about whether or notIwant to lethimgo.
But not just him.
I’ll have to think long and hard about whether or not I’m going to let this newfound side of me go, too.
CHAPTER SEVEN
He leaves first, closing the door silently behind him.
After a few seconds, when I’m sure he’s gone, I pull down the blindfold and heave deep breaths. Aftershocks are long gone, but my sensitized skin still prickles with awareness. At some point, he must have dressed me in a robe, because it’s warm softness is quite possibly the most comfortable thing I’ve ever worn.
I’m almost tempted to take it home with me as I pad down the empty hallway back to the lockers. With a look of regret, I stuff it in the laundry bin full of identical robes and redress in my regular clothes. My limbs are still trembling as I tug on my shoes and shoulder my purse.
By the time I get back down to the parking garage, I manage to regain control over myself—for the most part. My muscles are languid and my breathing now slow and steady. I practically pour myself into the front seat of my car.
Out of habit, I check my phone, hoping to see a callback from one of the art programs I applied to at nearby colleges and troupes, with no luck. There is, however, a text from Mikhail.
Mikhail:I’m afraid this is becoming a habit, but I’ll have to cancel on the date with my grandpa. He passed away this morning.
All good feelings from my session drain away. I’d been looking forward to meeting him, seeing them together. The way Mikhail talks about him, the way his face looked when he described his childhood, I knew they had a close relationship.
Me:Is there anything I can do? Do you need anything?
I don’t know what else to say. I’ve always been extremely awkward when people experience loss, having never really experienced any of my own. It’s always just been my mother and I against the world.
When I pull up to my mom’s house, my phone buzzes in my lap. I glance at the text as I unfold from the car and head inside.
Mikhail:No, but thank you. I’m sorry to bail for a second time, but I have to meet with the funeral home to make arrangements.
Heart aching, I call, because this isn’t something he should have to do over text.
He answers and it almost brings tears to my own eyes when his voice comes over the line, thick with emotion, “Hello?”
“You don’t need to apologize, Mikhail,” I say.
Clearing his throat, he says, “I think you can call me Misha now.”
“Misha,” I say softly. “There is nothing for you to apologize for. Are you sure there’s nothing I can do? I can put together a mean casserole or something.”
“Thank you, that’s very kind. I’ve got a meeting with him in about an hour and after that I—” he pauses for a second, then says, “You know what? I would like for you to do something with me tonight, after. If you don’t already have something planned.”
I kick off my shoes as I enter the living room. “Anything. Name it.”
“My grandpa always had a tattoo of a pin up girl—something he got when he joined the military after he immigrated to the U.S. I always thought I’d get one when he passed. Just to remember him. Would you go with me? Kind of an odd request, but I’d rather not be alone tonight. If you can’t, it’s—”
Hearing the aching loss reflected in his voice, I blurt, “Of course I will.”
* * *
“Thanks for coming,” Mikhail—Misha—says as he opens the door for me to get out of his car. A bright storefront is in front of us with the parlors name emblazoned in neon. The drive over was quiet, both of us lost to our own thoughts.
“Of course. I’ve always wanted to go to a tattoo parlor and anything to take your mind off of it.”
