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I just have the have the confidence to take what I want.
“I love that. Let’s do it.”
She smirks over her shoulder at Jenner. “Yes! You’re gonna look like a billion dollars by the time I’m done. Come on, let’s get you shampooed.”
“Ready for the big reveal?” Andy asks after switching off the blow-dryer, and I shift to the left. My ass went numb twenty minutes ago, and I’m more than ready to be out of this chair. The more hair that hit the ground the more nervous I got. How is it possible that I still have any hair left on my head? What if I look terrible? What if Harlan hates it? What if I hate it? Oh my god, this was a terrible idea.
What was I thinking? I should have just trimmed it myself in the apartment bathroom.
I nod to Andy. My throat tight.
Stop it. It’s just hair. It’ll grow back if you hate it.
The logical part of my brain knows that it’s just hair, that it’s not that big of a deal, that people get bad haircuts every day. But I got excited at the thought of changing a little something about myself, to give myself a little bit of self-care and maybe confidence that I haven’t had time for since Audra was born. It was just easier to let my hair grow and throw it up when it got to be too much for me to handle.
Andy turns my chair, and I promptly start crying.
The woman in the mirror is one that I haven’t seen in so long. The dark shadows under my eyes almost gone. My long black hair — that’s usually tied up — is shorter, kickier, punchier and frames my features in a way that makes me look younger than I feel.
Behind me, I can see Andy and Jenner trade horrified glances. Jenner swipes up a box of tissues and brings them over just as Jedd asks. “What’s going on? Why is she crying?” His phone is in his hand, and they all start to talk over each other.
“I’m texting Harlan, Maisie,” Jedd says, juggling Audra and his phone.
“Maisie, do you hate it? I’m so sorry,” Andy says while I wipe my eyes and shake my head trying to figure out how to tell them I love it.
“Jedd, don’t you text your brother. Andy back off.” Jenner turns the chair to face him and crouches down. “Sugar. What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
Puzzlement covers his face. “Nothing’s wrong. But you’re crying?”
“I love it.” I sob harder while smiling. “It’s really pretty — I’m really pretty.”
Andy and Jenner share a glance. “Happy tears?” he asks Andy.
“Sounds like it,” she says.
I snag a tissue from the box. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out. I just haven’t felt very pretty in a long time.”
“Sugar, you’re not the first person to cry in a chair in this salon. And you won’t be the last. But I’m pleased as punch that you like it enough to feel pretty again,” Jenner says with a smile and a friendly pat to my shoulder.
“You like it? Really? Don’t bullshit me,” Andy asks.
The door opens with a violent swoosh. “What the hell is going on here?” Harlan’s voice comes over the low wall between the reception area and the hairstylist’s stations.
“Nothing,” I say quickly, blowing my nose. “I just got a little overwhelmed.”
Harlan’s in his work uniform. The black cargo pants sitting on his hips in a way that’s sexier and sexier the more that I see him in them. The cuff of his short sleeved shirt pinches his biceps where it’s caught and I want to jump and dance and shout that he’s mine. For however long this thing lasts between us, he’s mine.
Jesus Christ. What the hell is wrong with me? My emotions are swinging from one to the other back and forth in a way that’s making me dizzy. One second, I’m happy crying, and the next, I’m ready to jump Harlan with no in-between.
A quick mental calculation takes place in my brain, and I realize my period is due.
Whelp, now this little emotional outburst makes more sense.
Dammit.
He looks me over from head to toe, and his gaze catches on the hair that’s sitting on the floor around the chair. His eyes whip back to my head where the new shorter — lighter — crown of hair is fluffed and blown out to perfection. The strands softer than I’ve felt them in a long time.
