“What if I told you that for a short period of time, she went by the name of Hailee Jefferson?”
My heart thumps at the surname.
“Jefferson?” I question. “As in…theJeffersons?”
“The one and only.”
“Okay,” I muse, nodding my head as all the pieces begin to fall into place.
“From what I can tell, she married Brendan Jefferson.” I continue nodding. Brendan was one of my oldest brother’s closest friends growing up. Hell, all the Walshes and the Jeffersons are best friends. No one gets a choice. Each family on its own is powerful, but together, they’re unstoppable. It’s exactly how they manage to get whatever the hell they want. “But after a short marriage, she filed for divorce.”
“Divorce?” I all but shriek. Divorce isn’t a term in the Walsh or Jefferson dictionary. Just like the words “lost” and “failure.”
“Yep. There’s a whole heap of scandal around it, too. But considering her high-profile job in PR, I’m assuming that scandal barely scratches the surface of what really went down.”
“Yeah, shit,” I muse, lost in thoughts of how awful it would be to still be a part of all that, let alone marry into it. “Caldwell,” I mutter to myself, trying to remember if I’ve heard that name before. If their daughter married into the Jeffersons, then they must be of a certain social standing in LA. The Jeffersons don’t allow their sons to marry just anyone.
“Her entire family is in PR, by the looks of it. She started out working for the family firm, but she left about the same time as she filed for divorce.”
“Interesting.”
“I bet she’d talk to you. She’d listen to you. She’d understand you.”
It’s still a stretch.
“It’s got to be worth a try,” Sienna says when nothing but silence fills the air. “She’ll know you’re not a bunny. She’ll take this seriously.”
Would she?
Or would she take one look at my surname, my family connections, and send me on my way?
She might believe I’m not a bunny, but I’m not sure that means she’ll have any time for me.
I let out a heavy sigh.
“You’re running out of time if you want him to know before?—”
“I know, Si. I know.” My head drops back, and I close my eyes.
All of this is becoming a little too real.
Sienna’s gaze burns into the side of my face as I let all this new information roll around my head.
“Do you know what I want?” I finally say, dragging my head up. “Pizza. I want pizza and dough balls, and ice cream.”
“Then we’re going for pizza, dough balls, and ice cream,” Sienna says, hopping to her feet enthusiastically. I, however, move a little slower, showing just how much energy this pregnancy is stealing from me already. I can only imagine how bad it’ll be by the time I’m also carrying around a watermelon in front of me.
We make quick work of closing the salon down for the night before we walk down the street to one of our favorite pizza places.
The second the scent of garlic and melted cheese hits my nose, my mouth waters, and my stomach growls louder.
Thankfully, the conversation turns to work, and we spend a good hour planning and coming up with ideas. Still, eventually, it inevitably turns back to me and my situation when Sienna asks if I’ve put any thought into my maternity leave.
I don’t want to think about it yet, let alone start putting a date to it or consider finding someone to cover my clients.
I don’t want to be away from my salon. It’s my life. All too soon, someone else is going to take over my number one spot. But while I might not be ready for this next chapter in my life, I don’t have a lot of choice. I just have to hope that as the months go on, things will naturally fall into place. That's what they say about motherhood, isn’t it? That once the time comes, you just know what to do as if you were made to do it. Well, right now, I’m relying on that being the case, because I have no idea.
“I really think you should reach out to Hailee. She’s your best shot,” Sienna encourages.
