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Cindy looked back and forth between us, wearing a saucy grin. “I’m just gonna go…sweep my car…” She shuffled out the back door without the broom.
I heaved myself out of my salon chair and swept a hand over the cushion to wipe away any stray hairs. Then I leaned against it ever so casually. “So…how can I help you?”
He scrutinized the chair, then looked me over, that tiny wolfish smile creeping up. It got me every time. “I was hoping to find a gorgeous brunette to cut my hair and help me out with a particular woman situation.”
With a snort, I reached for my scissors and cape, then held out a hand, signaling for him to sit. “What kind of woman situation?”
He took his seat and lifted his chin when I draped the cape around him. I hadn’t cut his hair in so long. Even toward the end of our marriage, he’d let it grow out instead of letting me do it. I used to get so offended, as if cutting his hair was this promised covenant.
Liam cleared his throat as I picked up my spray bottle of water. “It’s a long story, but there’s this girl I really, and I mean really, like. I’m hoping she might be willing to hear an apology from me.”
Anxiety rising in me, I got a little trigger happy and doused the man until water ran down his neck and dripped from the ends of his hair onto the cape. “I—uh, sorry.”
Chill, Marigold. Do square breaths. Put on a meditation. Take a melatonin gummy. Light a eucalyptus candle. Something. While mustering the courage to respond, I ran my fingers through his hair, wringing the water out and considering the perfect length for him. I tugged a little more in longer sections.
A rumble escaped his throat, startling me, and I let go.
“Sorry, just getting a feel for the right length.”
I let myself look at him in the mirror in front of us. His eyes were locked on me, deep pools of a warm chocolate brown, so full of a sincerity I wasn’t prepared for.
Willing my heart to steady, I asked, “So…why do you feel like you should apologize?”
If anything, I should be the one apologizing. For allowing us to get to this point of confusion.
He licked his lips, his reflection holding me captive. “I think I took things too far with her last night. My hope was that she’d be ready for more with me, but I realize now I probably pushed her even further away.”
“If I were her…” I swallowed thickly and raked my fingers through his hair. “I’d forgive you pretty easily.” I gave a polite, shy smile and went back to cutting his hair, even if he didn’t need it. His hair was lush and healthy, with no dead ends, and the sides had recently been trimmed to a one-two fade.
Searching for a way to lighten the mounting tension building in the silent salon, I switched subjects.
“Who usually cuts your hair?”
“I do.”
I pulled back and found his gaze in the mirror. “Really? Why?”
“How could I let another woman run her hands through my hair, knowing it belongs to you?”
My cheeks flamed and my body lit up from head to toe in response to those words. As I watched him in the mirror, my heart beat out a rhythm against my breastbone, one that said mine. Over and over. Was he really? For a long, long time, it certainly didn’t feel like it, but lately…yeah, I wondered if he might be.
I searched for an answer, a way to say yes without fully committing. How much of him could I have without putting a label on what this was? Could I dip my toes in just a little? Or would he deny me completely if I tried?
That once confident smile faltered in front of me. “Don’t do this,” he rasped.
I was a coward. Fear lodged in my throat, so I answered in the only way I could, playing dumb.
“Do what?”
His sigh was heavy, just like my heart. He saw right through me. Maybe he always had.
“Pretend I’m the only one who feels this.”
“I’m not pretending. But we can’t do this. Don’t you see it? If we gave this another shot and it didn’t work out, it would crush the boys’ hearts.”
And mine.
“And if it did work?” He grasped my arm and pulled me until I was standing in front of him, eyes hopeful and sparkling with love-light.
