The Fling

81

"Thank you so much; we'll see you then," I told Lita, the highly reviewed tattoo artist in Palm Springs who Abigail found. I ended the call and turned to my girlfriend. "She said she'll open early for us tomorrow morning since she's booked solid."

"That's perfect!" She looked at her watch, "We'd better hurry if we're going to grab coffee before hot yoga."

I wrapped my arms around her. "It can't get much hotter than we were ten minutes ago."

"Or last night. Twice," she giggled.

Since we'd sorted things out, things had been perfect. The last couple of days were spent going to classes, getting spa treatments, eating healthy food, and fucking constantly. We literally could not get enough of each other.

As we sat in the atrium sipping our coffee, I asked, "Do you know what design you want to cover your tattoo?"

"I keep looking at pics online and nothing has jumped out at me yet."

"You could let Lita do something creative. Give her a vague idea and then let her use her expertise."

She shook her head. "Too risky. What if I hate it? Have you ever regretted any of yours?"

"Nope. They're like time capsules, so even if the reason I got one isn't relevant, it's still a part of my history."

"And yet you think I should alter mine," Abigail pointed out.

"Only because you told me you wanted to on the day we met. If you said you still love it, I'd support you keeping it. It's your body, honey, and I respect that."

This was mostly true. I did respect that it was her decision, but I also hated seeing her wedding date every time she was naked. It didn't used to bug me, but after Bert moved in, it started to. In light of what I'd learned recently, it was even worse, like a festering splinter I needed removed. Telling Abigail this would only lead to conflict, so I was being diplomatic.

Hot yoga was incredible. There's something purifying about working up a really good sweat, and as we exited the studio, I felt both drained and lighter. We stopped by the café to grab breakfast to go, and once we got to our suite, we draped towels on the chairs before diving into our protein bowls. I'd requested extra avocado on mine along with spicy green salsa. "We should make these after we get home," I suggested.

"Keep the detox going?"

"We both eat pretty healthfully in general, so I don't think we need to make drastic changes. It'd be nice to try some new foods."

She smiled. "I agree. I'm definitely in a cooking rut; I make the same ten things all the time and it's getting old. Last week, Bertie complained when we had tacos again, and they are one of his favorite foods."

"My mum used to get so annoyed when I did that. I'd inevitably get a speech about starving kids who would love to have what was on my plate."

"I may have said something similar," she said with a laugh. "Some mom things are universal."

When we finished our meal, I rubbed my biceps. "We should take a long shower. I'm still sore from kickboxing yesterday, and some hot water would feel damn good on my muscles."

"That's code for let's have shower sex," she replied with a grin.

"Well, yeah...that's a given."

"I'm in, but I am napping afterwards."

I took her by the hand and pulled her into the bathroom. "That's cool. I want to keep reading my book anyway." In the chapter I finished the night before, Stella and her much younger lover, Winston, were struggling a little, and some of their problems bore similarities to those Abigail and I had. For instance, her ex-husband was part of her life since they had a son. In other ways, our situations were different. Winston lacked maturity at times, and even though I was in my mid-twenties, I felt like this wasn't an issue for me. I grew up pretty quickly when I was thrust into the limelight at fifteen, and even if I didn't live the stereotypical musician lifestyle of hard drugs, booze, and lots of one-night-stands, I learned to be independent early on.