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“Oh,” I whisper, unsure of what to say in this moment. Really, the only thing I want to do is wrap my arms around him and hold on until the haunted look in his eyes is gone.
“What time do you get Kingston today?”
“I’ll pick him up from daycare around five,” I reply, and he nods and tucks his hands into the pockets of his vest. “Do you… Do you wanna have dinner with us tonight?”
His chest deflates and his shoulders slump forward, like he’s relieved by my offer.
“I should be able to be here by six, if that works for you guys?”
“Of course.” I smile. “And I’m cooking, so I expect you to at least pretend to be wowed.”
He grins, and seeing it fills me with my own sense of relief.
“Come here, Miranda,” he orders, and I close the short distance between us, then press my face against his chest when his arms wrap around me. “I’ll see you tonight, okay?”
“Yeah,” I say softly, then tip my head back to meet his gaze, and he drops his mouth down to meet mine. When he pulls back, I keep my hands where they are, grasping the soft flannel of his shirt. “Do you want me to put your coffee in a travel mug for you?”
His eyes gentle even more than they already are. “Yeah, babe.”
Letting him go, I take a step back, go to the cabinet above my coffee pot, and pull down one of the least girly mugs I have with a lid, transferring his coffee into it. When I’m done, I carry it to where he’s standing and hold it out toward him. He doesn’t take it right away. Instead, his eyes wander over my hair, my face, and my ratty old robe before he looks at the mug in my hand, his lips quirking as he reads.
“At least it’s not pink,” I whisper, because it does say One Hot Mama in pretty, curly lettering.
He grins, taking the cup. “See you tonight, babe.”
“See you tonight.” My eyes fall closed as he presses his mouth to mine, and it feels like by the time they are open again, he’s gone, and I can hear the door close behind him.
With my fingers working through the loose curls of my client’s hair, I stare at the clock across the shop. It’s after ten. Emma should have been here forty-five minutes ago, and her client left fifteen minutes ago, because she couldn’t wait any longer. It’s so not like Emma to flake on a client or miss out on money, so I’m worried—more than worried.
I’ve called her, not just from the salon phone but from my cell as well, and I haven’t gotten an answer. I glance at the clock again. If she doesn’t show in the next fifteen minutes, I’m heading to her place. When the door to the shop opens, I glance over my shoulder, my stomach dropping to the salon floor as I take in my best friend. Even if she looks put together on the outside, with her dark hair up in a not-messy bun—instead, a sophisticated one—and her makeup as perfect as usual, there is no hiding the fact that her eyes look swollen from crying and are red-rimmed.
“You’re all set.” I grasp Tina’s… or Tiffany’s shoulder—I can’t remember the walk-in’s name—and she takes her eyes off her phone to look up at me. Then her attention moves to the mirror, and she smiles at her reflection. When she gets up and leans closer to inspect herself, with her smile growing, I’m relieved to know that even as distracted as I’ve been, she’s still happy with the new color and cut of her hair. “Do you like it?
“I love it.” She spins to face me. “Thank you.”
“Any time. And if you want, the next time you come in, we can play around with the red highlights and add a few more.”
“Oh, I’d love that.”
“Awesome. Just have Sammy put you down for six weeks from now when you check out.”
“I’ll do that.” She grabs her bag and heads to the front of the shop while I turn to my friend, who’s now busying herself at her station.
“You and I need to talk.” I walk to Emma and grab her arm.
“M—”
“Don’t,” I bite out, dragging her with me toward Polly’s office, which is empty because she isn’t here yet today. As soon as the door closes, I turn to face her. “Now, tell me what happened.”
“Nothing.”
“Emma,” I warn, and her chin wobbles.
“Eli told me last night that he’s not sure he ever wants to get married, but he’s sure he never wants to have kids.”
“What?” I take a seat next to her when she falls backward onto the couch tucked against the wall and covers her face with her hands.
“I just don’t understand. We talked about this before we got serious, then again before we decided to move in together. He knew.” Her watery eyes meet mine. “He knew that was a deal-breaker for me.”
