Page 93 of One Summer in Paris


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“Can you do this again tomorrow night?”

“I thought you weren’t going to dinner?”

Grace lifted her hand to her hair. “I might have changed my mind about that.”

“It wouldn’t stay like that. The pins would fall out.”

Grace hesitated and then lifted her chin. “So cut it.”

Audrey was surprised. “Seriously?”

“As you say, it’s time for a change.”

Was this a good moment to confess that she didn’t actually cut hair? No. If she did that, Grace would lose her nerve. And she was sure

she could do it. She’d done her own a million times. And she’d done Meena’s. “Are you up for just a few golden highlights, too? Not many. Just a couple to add a little definition and frame your face. It will look great, I promise.”

“Don’t I have to go to a salon for that?”

“I have what I need. My old boss gave it to me so that I could do my mum’s colors.”

“In that case, go for it. Whatever you think. I’m in your hands.”

It took Audrey an hour to do the highlights and another hour to wash and cut Grace’s hair using the scissors that had been a leaving gift from her friends in the salon in London.

As chunks of hair fell to the floor, she felt a flicker of nerves.

What if Grace hated it?

Still, it was too late now. She could hardly stick it back on.

She combed the hair carefully, checking the cut. She’d left the sides a little longer and she curved them under as she dried the hair so that the hair framed Grace’s face.

“There.” She switched off the drier. “You’re done.” Her palms were a little sweaty. The change was more dramatic than she’d anticipated. What if Grace hated it?

“Can I look?” Grace removed the towel from her shoulders and walked to the bedroom.

Audrey closed her eyes and crossed her fingers.

There was silence. More silence. And then she heard a sound.

“Grace?” Was she crying? Shit. Shitty shit. Panicking, Audrey dragged herself to the doorway of the bedroom.

Grace was standing in front of the mirror, tears pouring down her face.

Audrey’s stomach clenched. “I’m sorry. I thought—I’ll fix it. I’ll do something—I—”

“Don’t do anything. I love it.” Grace wiped her cheeks and turned to look at Audrey. “I love me. For the first time in months. Maybe longer. You have no idea.” She sank onto the bed and sobbed. Not delicate tears, but great gulping sobs. “When he left, he didn’t just take his clothes from the closet, he took all my confidence. Every last scrap. She was so young, and it was all so brutal, and every time I looked in the mirror all I saw were the reasons he left, so I stopped looking.”

Audrey stood frozen. She was used to her mother crying. But Grace crying? That was a whole different thing. It made Audrey want to cry, too. There was a huge, massive lump in her throat. She put her hand on Grace’s shoulder. “I think you’re beautiful. Inside and out. That’s the truth. You’re the best person I’ve ever met, Grace.”

Grace stood up and hugged her tightly. “I’ve been trying so hard to move on. To not be me. To be different.”

“You don’t need to be different.” Audrey had never been held so tightly in her life. “You’re great the way you are.”

“No. The real me is boring and does everything the same because it’s safe. My hair has been the same all those years because I’m too afraid to change it. But what you’ve done is amazing, and it makes me realize that change can be good. I need to do more of it. I need to give my whole life a haircut.”

Audrey felt the sting and spill of tears. Shit. If she ever met Grace’s husband, she’d floor him. “You’re smudging your makeup. Worse, you’re smudging mine.” She sniffed. “We’re going to have to start again, you know that?”

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