But I held up the box and shook it a little, feeling like I might snap in half if I didn’t have somewhere to divert my energy. “Can you give me a handwith this? It’s safe for the baby. I looked it up. Just make sure you wear the gloves, and I’ll open a window.”
“Aren’t you supposed to wait a couple of weeks before dyeing it again?” she asked.
“Yeah. I’m not going to do that.”
I thought I might pull every hair out of my head if I had to look at it like this in the mirror every day and remember everything that went along with it. I’d risk some breakage and dryness.
Candace nodded and went to retrieve a towel.
A few minutes later, I was settled in a kitchen chair with Vaseline around my ears.
Candace, poised above me with a squeeze bottle of hair dye, said, “Are you going to tell me what happened now?”
Sighing, I closed my eyes and tilted my head forward so she could start at the back and work her way forward.
Methodically, I told her about the meet and greet with the influencers the day after we arrived. Then I described the dinner on the terrace. And after I’d given her the rundown on Eddie J and how great he was, I told her about the premiere and all the shit leading up to it. I recited the events in a disconnected sort of way. Just the facts. Candace didn’t need me crying in her kitchen or anywhere else, for that matter.
Truthfully, the makeover team had been nice. I’d felt comfortable enough with them that I’d instructed them to do whatever they thought was best. The hairstylist, the makeup artist, and the sweet assistant who’d gone out and found me shoes that I could actually walk in had all been eager to help get me ready. They’d been kind, if a little gossipy. But everyone had a boss to answer to.
“And when I walked up, Ian and his manager were arguing. She was making it clear that they’d had to do so much work on me because I was an old farmer with gray hair.”
Candace wore a frozen look of horror. “What did Ian say?”
“He was trying to defend me,” I simplified. It was the truth. No part of me had ever assumed Ian was bashing me or insinuating I was a backwoods hillbilly.
He’d been angry and had questioned his manager’s actions. Deep down, I knew that Ian hadn’t asked for them to turn me blond or orange.
But my presence had caused trouble. Just by existing the way I was—the way I chose to be—with my gray-streaked hair and my calloused, sun-worn skin, I’d become someone who could negatively impact Ian’s career.
Gloria had known exactly what she’d been doing by requesting updates from the makeover team and then making demands via text message throughout the day. It had been her call to drag me to a salon to bleach my hair. She’d been the one to make the hasty spray tan appointment, too. Gloria hadn’t done me any favors when she’d instructed the makeup artist to use such a heavy hand and call it “glamorous.” I had plenty of fine lines on my face for all that makeup to settle into.
But none of that shit mattered in the long run. Sure, Gloria was a dick. But I’d known that already, once I’d realized who she was and what she’d said to George.
The problem was me. As long as I was with Ian, he’d be forced to make excuses for me or explain my presence or hide me away. His life was smackdab in the middle of every spotlight, and that worked for him. I was never going to be that sort of person, though.
“So then what happened?” Candace asked.
“I left.”
Candace moved in front of me, a frown on her face. “You left?”
“Yeah. Eddie J got me a car. Ian and I spoke briefly. I told him to go on to the premiere, that we’d talk later. And then I went back to the house, got my things, and went to the airport. Luckily, there was a red-eye.”
My sister stared at me incredulously. “You left California without telling Ian?”
The chair squeaked when I shifted uncomfortably. “He called when he got home, I guess. I told him I needed time to think.”
“Oh, Joan.” She placed the bottle of hair dye on the counter with an impatient thunk and then ripped her gloves off. “I can’t believe you just took off when his back was turned.”
I blinked. “He had to work, Candace. I didn’t expect him to bail on his responsibilities to come hold my hand and cheer me up. I’m not a little kid who got her feelings hurt. And I couldn’t—” I swallowed hard, betraying my previous statement. “I couldn’t stay there another minute. I just ... couldn’t.”
Suddenly, I wished I’d held off on starting this conversation. Now, I had to sit here for twenty-five minutes while I waited for the color to take. And it looked like Candace was building up a good head of steam.
So I cut her off before she could get going. “We were never going to fit, okay? Ian and I ... we don’t make sense. We never have. His life is in Hollywood. Mine is in Kirby Falls. And you know what? I’m not ashamed of that. I like my life. You’re part of that. Do you want me to quit the farm and move to LA so I can sit around waiting for Ian to take off his Dorian Masters mask?”
“No, of course not,” my sister replied. She lowered herself onto the chair beside me. “But I don’t think that’s the only answer.”
“I don’t know what else there is. He can’t stay here forever. It’s not like Will and Becca. She made Kirby Falls her home. Ian never asked for it to be. I’ve known from the beginning that this was all temporary. I think, somewhere along the way ... I let myself forget.”
