I let myself fall apart for a few minutes, yelling internally at myself.
Why am I so afraid of not being able to have kids? I’m thirty-one. I have a great life, a great job. It’s not like my life couldn’t be complete without them. I could adopt… I could…end up with a man who already has kids.
That kind of thinking is dangerous, and I know it. I’ve only known Ryder for a couple of weeks.
I spin the roll of toilet paper and wad some two-ply up in my hands. Blot my eyes, blow my nose, then flush.
“Yo, Gracie, you almost done in there? I got to shit.” Toni’s voice carries through the closed door.
“Are you serious right now?” I bark. “I’m in here. Go crap in the other bathroom.”
I’m half certain Toni’s being nosy. It’s probably because she cares. But still, I’m pissed that whatever I need to do in the bathroom is interrupted. It’s nobody’s business, and we have two stalls for a reason.
“Don’t you have a client?” she calls through the door. “Sis, you got to come out eventually.”
I wait until I hear her walking away to blow my nose again and wash my hands. Then I look in the mirror, and it’s obvious I’m not going to be able to hide that I was crying. Toni caught me looking just like this in this exact same place a dozen times after everything that happened with Levi last year.
Same year, different problem.
Or maybe it’s the same problem. Me not facing up to what really needs to be done. Me jumping in too fast with a guy and getting my heart obliterated in the inevitable fall.
I grab some makeup and decide I have to load it up. My face will be puffy and red for at least an hour, and the last thing a client wants to see is an emo artist. I reline my eyes and add some mascara, then blink fast as the tears threaten to undo everything I just touched up.
Why the fuck am I so emotional about something, when I don’t even know what’s at stake?
I paint on a perfect dark red lip, dab a little concealer under my eyes, wash my hands again, and shake out my hair.
I’ve got this. I’ve fucking got this.
No matter what it is, I have been through the hardest parts already. I’m sure of it. Or maybe that’s what I’m afraid of. That what I’ve been through already nearly broke me. And maybe what’s ahead is going to feel even worse.
But today is not a day to doomscroll through my memories. I have work to do. A job I love. And reasons to walk through the shop with a smile on my face. Even if it takes a mountain of makeup to cover up my tears.
When I finally leave the bathroom, Toni is at her station, talking to a customer who’s already in the chair. She throws me a look, but I ignore her and head straight for Echo, who’s waving at me through the peekaboo window in the door. I head toward her and yank open the door to see her shifting from one high-gloss Doc Marten boot to the other.
“What’s up?” I ask, hoping I don’t look as bad as I suddenly feel.
Echo shrugs. She digs through a purse that looks like a brown grocery sack behind the counter and then points to three familiar faces standing on the sidewalk outside. “Somebody’s here to see you.” She frowns. “Says he doesn’t have an appointment.”
“I’ll be right back,” I say to Echo and then push through the glass door.
Ryder is standing on the sidewalk. Luke is holding Cora’s hand, while Ryder holds two cups of coffee, one in each hand. Pinched between two fingers is a small white paper bag.
“Good morning,” he says. “You look beautiful.”
“Dad, it’s not morning,” Luke scolds.
“You’re right about that, buddy.” He’s talking to Luke, but his eyes… God, his eyes. Ryder looks at me like he wants to devour me. He licks his lips, and a grin so seductive crosses his face every inch of my body tingles. The memory of what I did to myself while thinking of him last night rushes back to me, and I know I’m blushing hard.
“Good morning and good afternoon,” I say, dragging my eyes from Ryder and bending down to greet the kids. “What are you all up to today?”
“Last Friday of summer vacation,” Ryder says. “Monday, Luke starts first grade.”
“Wow.” I give Luke a smile. “Are you excited? All my brothers and I went to Star Falls Elementary. Do you know who your teacher is yet?”
Luke nods. “Mrs. Lee.”
“No way.” I clap my hands. “Mrs. Lee is the best. She must be about a hundred years old now. Both Benny and I had Mrs. Lee for first grade. You’re going to love her.”
