Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 85876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
“Thanks.” I smile as I check the time. “I don’t have a client right now, and we have a few hours before Nikki is supposed to meet us. I could do something with your hair?”
“Really?” she whispers, and I have to laugh.
“Totally. Come on.” I lead her over to my chair and look over at Emma. “This is my friend Carrie. Carrie, my best friend Emma.”
“Hi,” Carrie greets softly, and Emma grins at her as I spin the chair around for her to sit. “I guess I should ask if your dad will be okay with it.”
“He doesn’t care what I do with my hair.”
“Awesome. Is there any style you’ve seen that you like or any color you think is cool?” I pull the elastic out of her hair, which is seriously long, but it’s obvious she does her own color, because there are spots near the top that were missed.
“There is an artist I love.” She takes out her cell phone and shows me a picture of a girl probably a little older than her with an edgy cut and dark hair with purple highlights.
“I love that, and I think that cut would look cute on you.”
“Let me see,” Emma says, walking over, and I show her the photo. “Oh, that’s super cute!”
I pass Carrie back her phone. “Let me go mix up some color. I’ll be right back.” I give her a reassuring smile, then head to the back of the salon, where we have our mixing station.
It takes a few minutes to get everything set up, and when I walk back to my chair, Emma is sitting in her seat, talking to Carrie, and making her smile. Of course she’s able to put her at ease. I don’t think there has ever been a person on this planet Emma isn’t able to befriend.
“Ready?” I ask Carrie, and she nods, so I get to work doing what I do best.
“Seriously?” I hear Emma growl quietly a little over an hour later when the door to the salon dings, letting us know someone has arrived. I look over my shoulder, expecting to see Eli, who Emma has surprisingly cut off, but it’s not him.
It’s Bowie.
Holding a cup of coffee and a bouquet of flowers.
When his eyes meet mine, he smiles.
Letting out a breath, I look at Emma. “Can you take over for me for a few minutes?” I ask, and she looks at Bowie, sending him a dirty look before turning her attention back to me.
“For sure.”
“Thanks.” I slip off my gloves that are stained with purple dye and toss them in the trash. “I’ll be back,” I tell Carrie, and she nods, looking back at Bowie.
“Come on, girl. I got you.” Emma grabs a pair of gloves as I walk across the salon to my ex-husband.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” I ask him, and he holds out the coffee and flowers toward me, and out of instinct, I take them from him.
“I don’t start work for a couple of hours, and I was running some errands. I thought I’d stop by to see you.”
“Bowie.” Dammit, I don’t want there to be a rift between us, but as much I want us to be at a place where we are okay with each other, I’m not there yet. And him showing up with flowers and coffee is absolutely not all right. “You can’t just show up at my job.”
“I want to talk to you, and since you haven’t given me a chance to do that over the phone when I’ve called Kingston—”
“Because besides Kingston, we have nothing to talk about,” I cut him off while setting down the flowers and coffee. “I hope one day we can be in a place in our lives where we can have some kind of friendship, but after everything that’s happened, I’m not there right now.”
“I love you, Miranda,” he says quietly, and I grit my teeth to keep from calling him a liar. “I know I messed up, and I hate that I—”
“Stop,” I interrupt. “This is not happening, not at my job and not when you’re only doing this because you know I’m happy—that I’ve found someone who makes me happy.”
“Tucker is—”
“A good man,” I state before he can get another word out. “He’s kind to me and our son, and I care about him.” Dammit, now it feels like I’m lying, because my feelings for Tucker are so much bigger than just caring about him.
“You don’t even know him.”
“Well, I thought I knew you, but I was wrong about that. So, I guess I’ll take my chances on him.” I look past him when the door to the salon opens, and watch Polly walk in with her husband. The two of them glance between Bowie and me.
“Is everything okay?” Howard asks, stepping forward, and I glance up at Bowie quickly before focusing back on him.