Page 8 of My Heart Still Beats
Time to do something the old Tessa never would have done—never would have been caught dead doing.
I squeeze shower gel into my palm and lather it through my hair.
Once my hair is shampooed and conditioned—or rather, shower-gelled and conditioned—I lather up my shower pouf and notice my legs.
From my Mexican-American mother, I inherited a gorgeous head of nearly black hair. But from my Irish-American father, I inherited the wonderful European trait of body hair everywhere.
Yeah, I’m basically the link between man and the ape.
But I can’t bring myself to shave. I just don’t have the energy.
I’ll wear jeans or leggings or something, even though it’s summer and I’ll be sweltering. The bar will be air-conditioned. I gather the energy to at least shave my armpits, and then I turn the water off and step out of the shower, grabbing a towel. Once I wrap myself in it, I grab another to wrap over my long, thick hair.
My face appears in the mirror once more, but this time I can’t see it because it’s steamed up from the shower.
What a metaphor for my life right now.
I’m just existing.
Existing in a fog.
I go to therapy twice a week, and my mother checks on me once a week.
I’ve been keeping up with work, but here’s the thing.
Next week, my boss expects me to go back to the office full-time. No more remote work unless I’m physically sick. I used to love going to the office. Talking to people, looking good, having in-person meetings.
I’ve known for a while that this was coming.
Just like I’ve known Skye and Braden’s wedding is coming, and still I’ve put off planning anything until the last minute.
I’m going to have to pick up the shattered pieces of my life and put them together into something that will hopefully resemble the Tessa Logan I used to be.
Chapter Two
Ben
“What’ll it be, Ben?” one of my favorite bartenders, Leanna, asks.
“Like you have to ask.”
She shoves a lowball glass filled with two fingers of Wild Turkey at me with a smile. “You never know when it might be something else.”
I give her a wink.
The Stargazer is a little hole in the wall in downtown Boston. It’s my own little secret. There’s always a seat at the bar for me.
“You meeting someone?”
I nod. “Braden’s fiancée’s maid of honor. She and I need to put together bachelor and bachelorette parties for the happy couple.”
“You’re doing it on your own? No party planner?”
“Braden rented out this private resort near Ocho Rios, Jamaica. It’s big enough that we can have both parties there, and yeah, they have a planner, but I feel like I should be involved. Best-man duties and all.”
“Will you be able to get a stripper?”
I let out a chuckle. “Braden doesn’t want a stripper.”
