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“Well, I heard she’s pregnant. I’d think they might try to work things out if she’s pregnant.” Kara cocks her head and looks at me expectantly. I never divulge my friends’ business, and Kara has worked here for years. She should know better. “Unless it’s the other man’s baby.”
And there it is. Her head tilts, and I don’t miss the way she narrows her eyes, studying my reaction.
“Kara, why does it matter?” I place my elbows on my desk and link my hands. “This has to be a shit time for both of them.”
“Oh, I know. I’m just… I mean, if it’s really the end, and you know why I’m saying that.” She reaches across my desk and taps my desk planner. “They are the drama king and queen. Any woman with her wits would steer clear of Noah on their breaks because, as sure as the sun rises, they’ll get back together. But…” Kara points an almond-shaped coral painted nail at me, “if that baby isn’t his, then this really could be the end. And Betty Marshall told Marissa that she heard the guy Jocelyn’s seeing is moving into the house after Noah moves out. That means it’s definitely over.”
Noah crashed with Oliver at his ranch house for at least the past month. Once he found out about Jocelyn’s affair, to my knowledge, he never slept in their house again. Liam mentioned he’d been showing Noah some of his spec homes that were for sale, but I hadn’t heard that he’d found anything.
Liam, Oliver, and Noah are all my good friends. Not only did we go to high school together, and our time at UT overlapped, but they moved back to Whispering Creek after college.
Jocelyn and I were, of course, friends too, but given the volatile nature of her relationship with Noah, and my loyalty to Noah, our friendship was what I’d qualify as a hug-when-you-see-her and leave it at that. Liam’s wife, Jada, was one I really did like, but she was a working mom, and she and I grew apart when she had kids. Not because I don’t like her; I really do. But a working mother with two young kids doesn’t have a lot of free time. Liam tends to be available a lot more than she does, and that little fact should have me seriously questioning my desire to venture into single parenthood. Maybe I should print additional pages and use an orange warning clip for the pitfalls of single parenthood.
“What do you know? I can tell from that face.” One perfectly manicured nail draws circles in my direction. “You’ve got deep thoughts. Are they already getting back together? Did Oliver say something?” Kara taps her nails in quick succession against my desk. “You think I should wait and see what happens? Not approach Noah yet? Is that what you’re thinking?”
“Kara.” I half-laugh. “Girl. Slow your horses. I would say that no matter what is going on with Noah and Jocelyn… and no, I do not know any details… they’re in the middle of a separation. A painful separation. And if you are really interested in Noah, you will be there for him as a friend.”
“But he’s going to rebound. And what if he falls for his rebound?”
“Kara….” She’s so eager. How best to guide her without unearthing Noah’s mess?
Noah’s been on a rebound fury. All just sex, from what I can tell. His mental space simply isn’t open to a relationship.
“Has Oliver said anything?”
“No.”
“If you were dating Oliver, you’d say something, right?”
“If I were dating Oliver, I’d tell you.”
“You’d better. I tell you everything.”
I let out an exasperated sigh. Yes, she does tell me all about the men she dates. But where is this Oliver questioning coming from? “You know he’s just a friend.”
“Right. That’s what I told Annabelle. But, you know,” she flaps her hand around, and I don’t know, but she’s annoying me, so I fold my hands in my lap. “And nothing new on Noah? ’Cause, I know it’s kind of crazy, but I really think…well, he’s different, you know?”
“He’s a good guy,” I say. I mean, he’s my friend. I’m not married to him, so it’s easy for me to say that. “Give him time, Kara. He’s not about to leave a twelve-year relationship and jump into another relationship. It’s just not going to happen.”
She scrunches her glossy lips together. “That makes sense. He’s probably going through a lot.”
“Yes,” I say, nodding to reinforce my agreement.
“You probably know a lot about that.” Her face contorts into a pity-face, but before I can get my head around the conversation swivel, she jumps up and heads to the door. “My three o’clock will be here any minute. Need to run to the ladies.”
I stare after her, head spinning. I know a lot about what? Break-ups? By the end of the day, she’ll be talking about something else or someone else, so there’s nothing to do except shake it off.
My phone vibrates, and I check the incoming text.
Oliver: Up for birthday drinks after work? Noah is in tow.
Me: Sure. Where?
Oliver sends me the details, and after finishing all my to-dos, I turn off my lamp and close down my computer. In the salon, one hair dryer blows, finishing up our last client. A woman checking out at the register turns to me, and her eyes widen as she smiles in recognition.
“There’s my favorite aesthetician.”
Mrs. Margaret Womble was one of my aunt’s longtime clients, and she proved her loyalty through the years by sticking with me when I took over the salon. She is also one reason I continue to work on Tuesdays at this location. Mrs. Womble loves having her facials at the beginning of the week. In her navy slacks and pastel silk blouse, she looks like she walked out of the pages of a Talbot’s catalog. For years, she’d come in here wearing pumps. But sometime over the last decade she switched those out for flats. Thick gold jewelry decorates her wrists, neck and ears.
