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“Now,” she said. “Is this about that hunk of a husband you got?”
I snorted. “Ex-husband. And maybe?”
“Eh, To-may-to, To-mah-to.” She waved a hand in the air. “What about him is making you stare at the wall?”
There was no point hiding it. Cindy could read minds and had slapped my butt in passing for lying. I wasn’t interested in having a bruise in the shape of Alabama on my tush again.
“He wants to get back together. And I think I do too. Only, I’ve sworn to always put my sons first. This feels like a betrayal of that vow. Like I’m putting my wants above theirs.” The second the words were out, my chest loosened and my breaths came easier. “If we try, I’m afraid we’ll break their hearts. Or mine. I’ve been through it once. I-I’m not sure I could survive a second time.” I rushed through that last part. Might as well rip the Band-Aid right off. Just get it out of your head before it rots your brain.
Cindy tilted her head and pursed her lips. “Mmm. I understand the issue.”
My shoulders relaxed a fraction. “See?”
“I do.”
“Thank you.” I slouched down in my chair and tipped my head back.
“You need a good, solid slap to the boob.”
I practically swallowed my tongue and jackknifed up in my seat. “Excuse me?”
She shook one wrinkled finger at me. “You heard me right, missy. Do I need to do the honors or do we want the hunky husband to get over here and take care of it?”
“Why do I need a slap to the—”
“Because you’ve spent the last ten years of your life putting the needs of others above your own. Coming into work early and staying late to accommodate clients. Breathing for those boys, helping your in-laws any time they need it.” She picked up a hairbrush from the station beside her and swatted my hand with the back of it. It wasn’t a slap to the boob, but man, it hurt.
“Ow.” I pulled my fingers into my chest to protect them from further damage.
“If you stopped for ten minutes to think of yourself, you would see what a blessing this could be. Get remarried. Go to Vegas. Pop a couple more babies out and bring them to me so I can show them what their godmother looks like.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell her that her multiple hip surgeries and inability to lift more than ten pounds would make it awfully hard for me to name her as the godmother to my nonexistent children. Plus, Calla would start a riot if she didn’t get them first.
Laughter spilled out of me, along with the tears I’d worked so hard to hold in. “I can’t just get remarried. Are you insane?”
“Maybe. But you’re more insane if you think that fine man will be okay remaining friends only.”
I blew out a breath, willing my heart to settle. Liam knew how I felt now, and now that the secret was out, I couldn’t imagine him letting up anytime soon. Or ever.
The door of the salon chimed. I planted my hands on the armrests of my chair, ready to heave myself to standing, but Cindy clutched my wrist and pointed that finger at me again.
“Sit your bottom down right now. I demand a break.” Then she shimmied out of her seat.
I rolled my eyes but didn’t bother fighting. I firmly believed that four-foot-eleven woman had more strength in her tiny body than some wrestlers.
She hobbled around the corner, pasting a smile on her face. Fake old witch. Man, I loved her.
Three minutes later, she appeared again, her posture straightened. “Mari, dear, there’s a customer here requesting your services.”
“There is?” I’d trained all my regular clients to text me so I could schedule appointments. They never just showed up.
Cindy shuffled farther into the room, followed by a man who towered over her. There, in a suit and tie, as if our words had summoned him, was the hunky ex-husband we’d just been talking about. Liam gave me a cautious smile, though his eyes sparkled with hope.
“Hi,” he rumbled.
“Hi.” I sounded like I was in a far-away land. With the way my brain was nonstop running, that wasn’t too far off.
We were frozen like that, both smiling, searching for purchase on the tightrope we were walking.
