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ChapterOne
Ping!Ping! Ping!The shears in my daughter’s hand still as our matching blue eyes meet in the mirror. Kylie bites her bottom lip to forbid a smile from stretching across her face. Her expression is the perfect combination of hope and excitement.
I shake my head and roll my eyes. “Oh, God! I know that look. Is it that guy again?”
Shrugging nonchalantly, she resumes cutting off my long blonde hair, but I know she’s dying to check the message. A nearly empty gallon of water sits on the counter. “Go ahead. I have to pee anyway,” I say as I push myself up.
I walk to the bathroom, sit on the toilet and scan the contemporary decor. When I bought the salon eight years ago, it was old and dilapidated. My family, a few friends, and I spent weeks working to update and modernize it. I love the chic vibe we created. After washing my hands, I study Kylie’s handiwork in the mirror with a drag of my fingers through the short, chin-length strands. I’ve never worn my hair this short. Maybe now people will stop asking if we’re sisters. She’s done an excellent job, but I wonder if the new, bold look is enough to make me forget that in two weeks I’ll be thirty-eight. People say forty is the new thirty because so many women are having babies later in life. Not me; I had my one and only when I was sixteen. Beer by the bonfire with the star QB landed me with a bun in the oven.
Shaking away the terrifying memory of telling my parents I was pregnant, I return to the chair, eternally grateful for their support from day one.
Kylie and the other two stylists, Nilsa and Joanne, abruptly end their hushed conversation with devious smiles as they return their humorous eyes to their clients.
“Mom, we need to get better WiFi in here. I just got this message, and he sent it over an hour ago.”
I sink into the chair. “I’ll look into it.”
Kylie runs a comb through my hair and then twists her lips, knowing I’ve inspected her work. “What do you think?” she asks, waiting for constructive criticism. It’s been years since I’ve allowed anyone to do anything more than a trim. Finding a stylist I trusted was hard until Kylie completed her schooling.
I smile. “It’s perfect!”
“Thanks.”
Curious about the message, I inquire, “So was ithim?”
She nods and meets my eyes in the mirror. “Yeah, this one seems really nice.”
This one!? How many are there?“Oh, that’s good. Just be careful.” I do my best to sound enthusiastic, but I honestly don’t understand why my gorgeous twenty-two-year-old thinks she needs a dating app calledLust or Loveto find a man. “What’s he like?”
Kylie resumes combing and cutting, evening out the blunt ends. “He’s a little older and a huge flirt. He loves old-school rock.”
The only two words I heard wereolderandold. I raise my eyebrows and sigh in exasperation. “Older? How much older?”
“I didn’t ask, but he’s probably early to mid-thirties.”
I grit my teeth and blink away the annoyance building in me. “Ky, why can’t you find a guy closer to your age?”
“Age is just a number, baby,” she says, quoting the sexy teen wolf from her favorite book series.
“Yeah, well, do me a favor…don’t fall for the handsome ones who say all the right things, okay?”
“Well, since there aren’t any pictures of his face, I don’t know if he’s cute, but he seems nice.”
“Thatshould be a warning right there! He’s probably married or something.”
She laughs as she finalizes my new cut. “He wants to meet, but I think it’s too soon. Maybe I’ll invite him to the Valentine’s fundraiser.”
“Public meeting, good idea.”
Kylie rolls her eyes. “Ma, you should lay off the True Crime documentaries.”
The idea of some man taking advantage of my daughter makes my blood boil. I’m not a violent person, but I would kill for her.
“What’s he do for work?”
I watch her swallow thickly.
Exasperated, she exhales sharply, blowing upward. “I’m not sure. Maybe the military. He said he was away for a while.”
