Page 33 of 10 Signs You Need to Grovel

“He’s smoking hot.”

Dammit. The familiar urge to take the easy road strikes. Resume my steady life of hanging out with Mirielle and mixing drinks, no rejection or new losses to cut me down. But I’m done with easy. With or without Sadie, my life is here now, with Max. I need to get my act together. Be as strong as the mother of my son, who started fresh with nothing but her determination. And, strangely, my hair could play a part in that future.

Mirielle wasn’t fully off base with her hair “safety blanket” jab. For years, the long mess has been a curtain to hide behind. My way of blocking out the world, shielding myself from judging looks, including my own over my lack of progress. Maybe I do need to cut it off. Shed this symbol of my past. Figure out exactly who’s under all this hair and ink so I can excavate who I’m meant to be, starting with the makeover of the century.

TEN

I should’ve thought through my makeover location more thoroughly. I’m once again hiding. Instead of being lodged behind a diner, terrified to see Sadie for my first time since WITSEC, I’m in Windfall, shoved behind a lamppost, feeling like I’m in a time warp.

Windfall’s central grassy square hasn’t changed. The mermaid fountain and large oak at the center still draw lazy readers and loungers. The low bushes, where Sadie and I often stopped to make out, look thicker and higher, but kind of the same. Massive barrels punctuate the surrounding streets, overflowing with colorful flowers and greenery, the historic buildings and shops as brightly painted and well maintained as ever. People smile and talk to one another as they pass. Dogs bark, tongues lolling.

And Jesus, who would have guessed I’d miss this place so damn much?

I stand incognito, hat pulled low, long hair pushed forward, covering as much of me as possible, but there’s no covering the emotion trembling through my chest.

A woman walks by and tugs her son closer while eyeing me warily. Two other townsfolk stop and stare at me, then lean together and whisper.

There’s no way they recognize me, but I take that as my cue to depart.

I drove here from my rental in Ruby Grove for a reason. It wasn’t to fall apart in front of this gossip-hungry town. I strut through one of the narrow walkways that lead to the alley behind the town’s stores. The back entry to Delilah’s coffee shop, Sugar and Sips, is easy to spot. I hightail it up the stairs to her and E’s apartment above, but music and laughter are drifting out.

When I called E and told him I was coming over tonight, I didn’t bring up my makeover plans, just that I wanted to stop by. He didn’t mention company. Or a party. I debate turning around, driving the hour back home, doing this makeover thing myself. But I came here for a reason.

I knock loudly.

Dogs bark. Footsteps hurry closer. Delilah swings the door open, while talking to her dogs as she invites me. “Stay, Mac. Stay. Don’t clobber him. That’s a good boy, just—”

The big fluffy one jumps on me, paws planted at my waist, tongue and mouth reaching for my face. I smile and rub his head. “I think he wants to eat me.”

“Macaroon shows love with licks. Just shove him off. The polite girl is Candy Cane.”

I angle away until Macaroon’s paws hit the floor. Candy Cane pants and wags her tail a mile a minute. I crouch and give her some pets, both dogs crowding and licking me until I’m chuckling. Maybe this is what I should’ve done during the past decade. Bought a dog to keep me company and slobber all over my face.

A final rub later, I stand. The second I’m on my feet, Delilah wraps me in a hug. “So good to see you, Des.”

It’s pretty damn good to see her too.

E waves. “Nice to see you smile.” He gestures to two other guys, who are sitting at their kitchen counter. “Not sure if you remember Ricky—front man for the infamous band the Tweeds. That’s his husband, Aaron, who can’t hold a tune and is not allowed to do karaoke when we go out. They stopped by for an impromptu drink.”

Aaron rakes his hand through his dark hair, his light skin blushing at E’s teasing. I don’t remember him from our Windfall days, but I remember Ricky and his garage band. E talked about them a bunch, and Ricky often came to my football games, cheering and heckling loudly. He’s bigger than he was as a teen, broad and fit with a beard now, his reddish-blond hair shaggier. I had no clue he was gay back then, but I’m sure it’s one of a million revelations I missed the past decade.

“If I’m intruding, I can go,” I offer. Mellow acoustic tunes are playing. Wine is open. The four of them are relaxed and happy, enjoying a postdinner drink, planting me in fifth-wheel territory.

“We’re the ones who showed up unannounced,” Ricky says. “Had to share our good news that Aaron made dinner tonight and didn’t burn it.”

Aaron drops his head back. “That was one time.”

“I bought those steaks from Hatcher the Hatchet. I could’ve died, and you ruined them.”

I laugh, remembering Lennon daring Jake to steal Mr. Hatcher’s doorbell. Jake’s scream when the slaughterhouse owner came from his home’s back shop carrying a bloody cleaver was priceless. “Hatcher’s still alive?”

“He has a store in town now, but he’s scarier than ever.” Ricky shivers dramatically. “And we should go, leave you all to catch up.”

The last thing I need are witnesses to my plans for this evening, but Ricky and Aaron seem nice enough. They might even be able to lend some male-grooming expertise. “No need,” I say as they start standing. “I could actually use some help.”

They get comfortable again. The dogs are flopped on the floor. Delilah and E lean against the kitchen counter, tucked close as usual, waiting on me.

Sweat dots my brow.