A pang of guilt hits my chest at the thought of my hiring someone new while my husband has had to let go of not just employees, but friends in his shop.
“The honeymoon is over, and I’m back with my wife,” a voice calls into the office.
I let out an excited squeal as my best friend steps through the door wearing a smile, a sunkissed tan, and a brand new wedding band wrapped around her left ring finger.
Jumping up from my desk, I run toward Aislin and wrap her in a crushing hug, rocking side to side as the two of us laugh together.
“How was your trip?” I ask her, pressing my palms to her cheeks.
“Oh my god, so good,” she answers. As she moves to the series of hooks on the wall to reach for her apron, she says, “Our resort was adults-only, so it was sun, sex, and daiquirisallday.”
“I hope rejoining us here in the peasant world won’t be too painful for you,” I tease, bumping my hip against hers as I reach for my own apron to tie it around my waist.
“It already is,” she sighs playfully, “but at least I have the second love of my life here to make it better.”
I remember that – the glow on her face.
I used to glow the same way she is.
Our honeymoon was a stop at a drive thru and three days off of work, not three weeks in the luscious St. Lucia, but it was still just as special. It fit us.
With a breath, I pluck two appointment books from the small stack on top of my desk and hand the one with the holographic cover and the‘mind your business, not mine’sticker to Aislin, keeping my soft pink, undecorated one for myself.
While Aislin preps her station for her first client of the day, eventually joined by the other stylists as they trickle in before their shifts, I work on setting up our refreshments area. We keep a selection of chilled wine, chocolates, and fruits for our clients to sip and munch on while they’re in the salon, and they go absolutely crazy for it.
I get it; it’s the few hours each month that most of them get to take a break from the real world. They don’t have to be Mom or wife or boss or whoever it is that they need to escape from for a little while. It’s the small break they get to be the one who is taken care of, instead.
I tend to do my own hair at my own station rather than having it done by someone else, but while I was in cosmo school, I did teach my husband how to do a shampoo and scalp massage, and every time he’s done it for me since…heaven on Earth.
A sharp pinch to my ass pulls me from my thoughts and forces me to round on the person behind me. Aislin smiles at me innocently as she stuffs a color brush into the pocket of her apron.
“Box wine and charcuterie boards at our place tonight?” She asks.
I consider her offer for a moment, finally shaking my head with a scrunch to my nose.
“I have Negative Nancy in my chair all day,” I tell her. “I think I’ll just want to curl up with my boy and a new book.”
She doesn’t need to know that the boy in question is actually our cat and that my new book is not some trending self help book, but my newest download of unhinged omegaverse smut that would send me into hiding for years if anyone found it on my e-reader.
A girl has to havesomesecrets, after all.
Chapter 2
TRIPP
This place is the one that makes me the happiest; it’s my safe place.
I’m free here to create whatever I want in my own space without judgment.
There’s no fighting or nitpicking or dirty looks shot across the room.
The only raised voices are those of either happy clients or that small handful of clients who don’t have the highest threshold for pain.
Resting my helmet on my desk, I settle into my seat and pull out my sketchbook, flipping to the piece I’ve been working on for the past few days. The sketch is still rough and the pencil has smudged a bit, but it has a solid base. It’s been hard to find inspiration in many things lately, so this single piece making progress feels like a big deal to me.
“You’ve got mail,” someone calls out, throwing on his best AOL-bot voice.
My best friend approaches with a box in hand, pulling open the top of it to dig out a smaller box from inside of it.
