“Dallas I’m-totally-over-him Shepherd?” Emme blinked at me.
“Dallas don’t-be-ridiculous-that-was-twelve-years-ago Shepherd?” added Stella.
I grinned ruefully. “That’s the one.”
“Oh my God, Maren.” Emme shook her head. “How did this happen?”
“It was the craziest thing,” I said. “He showed up on my doorstep out of the blue on Friday afternoon.”
Emme gasped again and held up her arm. “I just got goose bumps. Look.”
“And said what?” Stella prompted.
“That he wanted to apologize.”
“After all that time? Why now?” Her therapist face appeared.
“I don’t really know exactly why now.” I lifted my shoulders. “I’m a little fuzzy on that, too. I asked him, and he just said he felt like it was time.”
“Huh.” Stella picked up her coffee and sipped. “Okay, go on.”
“He spent a few minutes saying he was sorry and explaining why he left like he did, and—”
Emme held up her hands. “Wait, what was the reason?”
“He was young. Immature. Didn’t know how to say goodbye and didn’t want to.”
“Why not?”
“He said he didn’t want to spend our last night being sad. He’d only found out that morning he was being sent away. And he was ashamed.”
“Still,” Emme said. “Totally shitty. And why not return your messages?”
“He said he’d convinced himself I was better off without him. He thought he was doing me a favor.”
Emme huffed. “He should have said that to your face.”
“I’m not sure that would have been any easier on me,” I told her.
The server came back and asked if we were ready, and I quickly glanced at the menu while my sisters ordered. When she got to me, I asked for the bruléed grapefruit and some tea.
“Okay, go on,” Stella said impatiently once we were alone again. “So he thought he was doing you a favor …”
“Which still sounds like a bullshit excuse to me,” said Emme.
“Not to me.” Stella touched her chest. “Not if he felt really bad about himself for being sent away.”
“He did. And it goes deeper than that.” I explained what I knew about the way Dallas had grown up in the shadow of his older brother. “I think he really internalized that. It explains so much about his personality and his choices.”
Stella nodded. “Definitely. If it was really that bad, no kid would come out the other side feeling good about himself. I see it a lot in my clients. They think they have nothing to offer, or that no matter what they do, it’ll never be good enough for their parents or anyone else.”
“Exactly.” I nodded. “But anyway, he really didn’t try to make excuses, just said how sorry he was, how much he regretted what he’d done, and asked my forgiveness.”
“And?” Emme urged.
“And I gave it. Well, first I gave him some shit, told him how I’d felt being dumped that way. But then …” I shrugged. “It just seemed wrong to hold on to that hurt any longer. I wanted to forgive him. It felt right.”
“God, you’re too easy,” Emme said. “I’d have stood there on that porch yelling at him for days.”
I laughed. “Probably. But that’s not my thing.”
“So how did you get from there to there?” Emme leaned forward eagerly.
“That happened later. After the prom.”
My sisters exchanged a look. “The prom?”
“Yes.” My tea arrived, and I took a sip before telling them about the elaborate date Dallas had arranged because he’d felt bad when I said I’d missed the prom.
Stella sighed. “That is so romantic and sweet.”
“It really is,” agreed Emme. “I’m totally impressed, and I’d have forgiven him after that for sure.”
“I was impressed too, and totally swept off my feet. I was having such a good time, the most fun I’ve had on a date in years. And at some point during the evening I realized that I still had feelings for him. He asked me if I wanted to go back to his hotel room, and I said yes.”
“So how was it?” Emme wiggled her eyebrows.
“Unbelievable. Amazing. Mind-blowing.”
Emme squealed and clapped her hands.
“And I can confirm Emme’s discovery about two,” I said to Stella. “It’s definitely possible.”
Stella closed her eyes and sighed. “This is me being jealous.”
Emme poked her shoulder. “You need to spice things up with Buzz. He’s a smart guy, I bet he’s good in the sack. He went to medical school, so he should know where all the parts are, at least.”
Stella’s expression was dubious. “It’s just not like that with us.”
“But it could be,” I said.
“And frankly, it should be.” Emme nodded definitively. “You should seduce him or something. Do you own a sexy bee costume? If not, I think I know where you can get one.”
I tried not to laugh because Stella really did look a little upset, but it was hard. Reaching across the table, I patted her hand. “Don’t worry about it, Stell. If you don’t want to sleep with Walter, don’t do it.”
She sighed and picked up her coffee again. “Let’s talk about you some more. Where did you leave it with Dallas?”
“That’s a good question. I’m not exactly sure where we are, but”—I took a breath—“last night he told me he still loves me.”
“What?” Emme squawked. “Are you serious?”
“After one date?” Stella blinked at me.
“Yes,” I said, laughing a little. “I know, it sounds crazy, but I swear within twenty-four hours, that’s how I felt too. It was like our hearts had muscle memory or something. Or a past life thing. It felt so natural being together.”
They probably would have given me grief over the past lives comment if our food hadn’t arrived right then.
“Okay, keep going,” Emme prompted once the server had gone. “What does he do? Where does he live?”
“He’s a tattoo artist in Portland,” I said.
Emme paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. “God, that’s so you. Is he still in town?”
“Yes, but he’s heading to Boston to visit his brother’s family tomorrow.”
“What was he doing in Detroit?” Stella asked.
I took a bite and thought for a second. “I don’t really know why he came to Detroit, other than to see me. He’s spent all his time with me so far.”
“Wow. It must have really been important to him to see you,” she said, her eyebrows raised. I could see her therapist wheels turning.
“Is he dying or something?” teased Emme. “Maybe you were on his bucket list.”
I put a hand over my heart. “Don’t even joke about that. He’s got these horrible headaches that make him dizzy and I heard him say something on the phone to his brother about being in Boston in time for an appointment with a surgeon. I freaked out.”
“Did you ask him about it?” Emme poured more syrup on her crepes.
“Yes. He said it’s for his dad.”
“Do you believe him?”
The question struck me as odd. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Emme shrugged. “I don’t know. I was just connecting dots.”
“He gets headaches that make him dizzy?” Stella looked concerned.
I nodded, setting my fork down and picking up my tea. My stomach felt a little weird. “Yeah. Then he had this … episode yesterday morning at the hotel.”
“What kind of episode?”
“He stumbled and bumped into a chair. Stood there like a statue for maybe ten full seconds, not saying anything, not moving. Then his hand went numb or something.”
Stella cocked her head. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“He thought maybe it was a side effect of the medicine he takes for the headaches. It’s a drug called Depakote. Do you know of it?”
Stella thought for a second. “It’s v
aguely familiar, but I couldn’t tell you everything it’s prescribed for. Meds get approved for new uses all the time.”
Emme pulled her phone from her purse. “Let’s look it up.”
Part of me wanted to tell Emme not to. It felt like I was invading Dallas’s privacy again. What reason did I have to doubt his word? But when Emme asked how to spell the drug, I heard myself reciting the letters.
“Found it. It’s an anticonvulsant,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “What’s that?”
“Anti-seizure medication.” Stella looked at me. “Is it possible he has epilepsy? Maybe what you saw yesterday morning was a focal aware seizure. Sounds kind of like one.”
“Aren’t seizures where you can’t control your limbs?” Emme asked. “Like your entire body jerks around? Maren said he didn’t move at all.”
“There are different kinds,” Stella clarified.
My heart was beating frantically in my chest, and I grabbed Emme’s phone out of her hand. “Let me see this.”
“It can treat seizures and bipolar disorder,” I read, but my stomach didn’t unclench until I read the next sentence. “It can also help prevent migraine headaches.”
“Well, then that makes sense,” Emme said.
“Can migraines make you dizzy?” I asked.
“Definitely,” Stella answered.
I felt better. Not that it would have mattered to me if he did have epilepsy, but I didn’t want to believe he’d hide that from me. “Anyway, the whole weekend has been wonderful. I’m crazy about him.”
“So what happens after he leaves? Are you going to see each other again?” Emme asked.
“God, I hope so. I’ve never felt this way about anyone.”
“Wow. Maybe I’ll be planning your wedding next.” She nudged me under the table.
I laughed. “We’re not racing to the altar any time soon. We’re just happy to have a second chance.”
“Portland is far away,” Stella pointed out. “Are you going to do the long distance thing or will one of you move?”
“We haven’t really talked about that yet,” I confessed. “It’s all pretty new, but”—I put my hand on my chest again—“I feel this, you guys. In my bones. This is the real thing.”
Both of them smiled.
“I’m happy for you,” Emme said. “Maybe now your nightmares will stop.”
“I hope so.” I didn’t mention that I’d had it both nights Dallas had been with me.
“I wish I could meet him,” Stella said.
“Same,” Emme added. “When does he leave? Is there time?”
“Tomorrow, I think. Would you guys be able to meet us for dinner tonight?” I felt a little guilty floating the invitation since I’d offered to spend the night in with Dallas, but I really wanted to show him off to my sisters.
“Nate and I can,” Emme said. “He’ll be back from taking Paisley home by three.”
“I could check with Walter.” Stella pulled out her phone and began typing a message. “What are you thinking for time?”
“Seven?” I shrugged.
She finished typing and set her phone next to her coffee cup. “He’s usually pretty quick to get back to me.”
“Hey, I’m going up to Abelard next week to book some wedding stuff. Either of you guys want to go?” Emme looked back and forth between Stella and me.
“During the week?” Stella asked.
“That’s the plan. Probably Wednesday to Friday. I’ve got events over the weekend.”
“I took this weekend off, so I don’t know about taking days off next week too,” I said hesitantly. “But it would be fun. I’ll try.”
Stella’s phone pinged and she picked it up. “Dinner at seven works for us.”
I smiled. “Great. Let me run it by Dallas and then I’ll text you guys a time and place.”
We finished brunch, opened up our umbrellas on the sidewalk, and ran through the rain in opposite directions for our cars. As soon as I was in mine, I pulled out my phone and called Dallas. He didn’t answer, so I left him a message.
“Hey. I know I said we’d stay in tonight, but I just saw my sisters and they’re dying to meet you. Do you hate the idea of having dinner with them and their boyfriends tonight? Nate and Walter are both really nice, and I think it would be fun. Let me know, okay? Hope you’re feeling better.” I hung up and dropped my phone into my purse.
On the drive home, I couldn’t help thinking about what Stella had said—that what had happened to Dallas yesterday morning had sounded like some kind of seizure. Could she be right? His claim that it was just a dizzy spell had made sense to me at the time, but the more I thought about it, the more worried I became that it wasn’t so easily explained. When you’re dizzy, you close your eyes, right? His had remained open. And even when you’re dizzy, you can talk. Dallas hadn’t responded the first few times I’d said his name. Almost as if he hadn’t heard me.
It wasn’t like me to panic over something like this, but when I got home, I texted Stella.
Me: Hey what kind of seizure did you say that sounded like?
Stella: A focal aware seizure.
I grabbed my laptop and googled it. The first site that came up was related to epilepsy awareness. I read the entire section on focal seizures, and I still wasn’t sure if that’s what had happened to Dallas. He’d seemed to have some of the symptoms described but not others. And wouldn’t Dallas have been diagnosed with epilepsy as a kid?
I researched it a little more, learning that epilepsy could start at any age, and although there was no cure, the seizures could usually be managed with drug therapy, surgery, or changes in diet. Occasionally the condition just went away on its own.
Biting my lip, I set my laptop aside and wondered if that’s what was going on with Dallas and he was too proud or embarrassed to tell me. Knowing him, it seemed likely, and I wished more than anything he would open up to me. I didn’t want to have such a giant secret between us, mucking up our new beginning. But what could I do?
If I were Emme, I’d probably run right to him and demand to know the truth. But I’d always been more patient and even-tempered than my hot-headed sister. If I were Stella, I’d probably find a way to bring it up in conversation that would naturally lead to an admission. But Stella had training and a way with words that I didn’t. She knew how to get people to talk. I was too nervous about saying the wrong thing.
I got up from the couch and checked my phone—no reply yet from Dallas. Disappointed, I decided to spend the next hour meditating.
After changing into more comfortable clothing, I lit some candles, put my phone on Do Not Disturb, chose the sound of ocean waves on my Meditation Playlist, and sat on the rug. I was briefly consumed by the memory of kneeling over Dallas’s face yesterday in this very same spot, but I accepted the thought and its accompanying feelings of desire without judging them. Then I closed my eyes and focused on my breath and body awareness.
Sixty minutes later, I felt relaxed, refreshed and rebalanced. I didn’t need to panic. I didn’t need to confront anyone. Everything happened for a reason, and if there was something Dallas wanted me to know, he would tell me in his own time. Loving someone meant opening your heart to them; it didn’t mean forcing them to fill it at the soonest opportunity. Love needed room to breathe, room to grow. I didn’t have to behave like either one of my sisters would in this situation. I only had to be me, and trust my instincts.
I checked my messages, and found that I had a text from Dallas.
Dallas: Dinner at 7 is fine. I will be at your house by 6:30.
I was a little disappointed he wasn’t coming over earlier, since six thirty wouldn’t give us any time together before dinner, but I decided not to ask him. We had the entire night ahead of us, and I didn’t want to appear needy.
Me: Great! See you then.
I added a little kissy-face emoji and hit send. Next, I messaged my sisters that dinner was on, and we went back and forth about where to go before deciding on Repu
blic Tavern. I called the restaurant and made a reservation.
After that, I texted Dallas back that since dinner would be downtown, there was no sense in his driving to my house to get me, which was just north of the city. Instead, I told him I’d grab an Uber down to his hotel around five or so, and maybe we could have a drink at the bar if he was feeling up to it.
He didn’t answer right away, so I got in the shower. When I was out, I checked my phone and saw his reply.
Dallas: Sorry. I was on the phone with Finn. Are you sure you don’t want me to pick you up?
Me: Positive. I’ll be there in about an hour. Maybe less.
Dallas: Good. I missed you today.
Relieved, I smiled and texted back.
Me: I missed you too. Can’t wait to see you!
I blow-dried my hair and got dressed, choosing a white maxi dress with a deep V-neck and lace panels in its flowing skirt. I applied a little makeup, rubbed some lavender oil into my skin, and pulled on the strappy sandals I’d worn to the prom the other night. When I was ready, I ordered a car and went out on the porch to wait. The rain had stopped, and the sun was finally peeking out from behind the clouds. The temperature was warm, and the light breeze carried on it the scent of mint from my neighbor’s herb garden. I turned my face to the sun and inhaled deeply.
It was going to be a beautiful night.
Thirteen
Dallas
After leaving Maren’s house Sunday morning, I drove back to my hotel and crashed for five straight hours. I was exhausted. My head hurt. My eyes burned because I’d slept in my contacts. My gut was twisted into knots I knew I couldn’t unravel. Barricaded in my room, shades drawn, Do Not Disturb sign on the door, phone off, I pulled the covers over my head and shut out the world.
Except, of course, the world wasn’t the problem. I was the problem. More specifically, what I’d done was the problem. Looking back, I could see the series of missteps I’d taken, and all of them indicated how weak and reckless and stupid I was.
I’d gone to see Maren and dug up the past when I should have left it buried.
I’d insisted she go on a date with me, swearing not to touch her and knowing full well I wouldn’t be able to resist.
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