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Amelia followed the receptionist to a long, white-marble counter in the back of the room. She took a seat in one of the high chairs and waited for Max. The tall and lanky man soon appeared, wearing an artistically ripped pair of jeans and an oversized black tee that probably cost more than the dye job she was here to get.
“’Melia,” he sang. “How nice to see you again!”
“Same.”
He took a strand of her hair and inspected it. “Looks nice and healthy despite the coloring. You are blessed with good genes.”
She gave a tight smile. “Thanks.”
“Same thing? Blonde for the husband?”
Amelia shook her head. “No. I want to go back to my natural color.”
Steven rubbed his hands together in glee. “Awesome.” The man couldn’t know that she was going against her husband’s directions. But she was done listening to him. “Let me mix the color, and I’ll be right back.”
Amelia closed her eyes and let the gentle sound of a hair dryer and the soft chatter of other patrons lull her. There would be hell to pay for this choice later, but she didn’t care.
Oh, she would care later.
But for a few hours, she could pretend she hadn’t met Greg. She could pretend she was still twenty with her whole life ahead of her. She couldn’t think too long and hard about what she would be—whoshe would be—if her life had taken a different course.
It broke her heart.
All she could do was imagine that in another life, she would’ve been happy. Shit, she would settle for content.
“Here we are,” Max announced, returning with a small metal bowl from which the smell of hair dye emanated. “I love the natural look. With your eyes and curves, you could pull off any color, but there’s nothing like what God gave you.”
She smiled at him before he began to apply the dye to her long locks. Max chatted with her, asking the mundane questions of someone who didn’t really know her. How was married life, had she seen any movies lately, had she traveled. When she could barely answer his questions, Max resulted to discussing the latest celebrity gossip.
Amelia felt bad, but the less Max knew about her, the better. She had learned the hard way that it was best to keep anyone and everyone at a distance. Her friendship only endangered those brave souls. Amelia couldn’t stand it. She was already responsible for way too much pain and grief.
Thankfully, once the hair dye was set and washed off, Max was too focused on blow-drying her hair to chat.
The results nearly made her cry.
With her black hair, her resemblance to her mother was staggering. She was without a doubt Mina Sunderland’s daughter. She missed her mother terribly. Her grief, buried under a life that was not her own, smarted even as she wanted to high-five her reflection.
Greg would be pissed, but man, oh, man! She lookedgood. She looked like herself for the first time in years.
“What the fuck did you do,” Evan hissed when he saw her. He grabbed hold of her arm and effectively dragged her to the waiting car.
Alphonse, the driver, winced when he spotted them. “You were supposed towatchher,” he snapped.
“I did,” Evan said. “How the fuck was I supposed to know she was gonna dothat.” He pointed to her hair.
“By listening in to the conversation with the hairdresser. Greg will have your ass for this. And don’t think I’ll share the blame,” Alphonse growled. “This is your mistake.”
“As loyal as you are to my husband, I do think that my hair color is my own choice to make,” Amelia said.
Both lion shifters turned to glare at her. The harsh glint in their eyes would have made her shiver if it wasn’t a balmy London afternoon. The pavement cooked in the high sun despite the summer dress she wore.
“Get in the car,” Alphonse said, opening the door for her. She was barely in when he slammed the door on her. “You are in so much shit,” he added to Evan as he took his seat behind the wheel.
Evan was stiff with fear.
Amelia hid her smile by biting her lip.
It felt good to be rebellious.
