While she trims my hair, Sarah, Nia, and the unnamed client listen with rapt attention as I tell the story of my elopement. I keep the details to a minimum; the memories almost feel sacred somehow, and I’m not ready to share them with the world. I might never be ready. The intimacy of the wedding, the whispered words in the darkened hotel room, the tenderness in the light of day—those are just for Griffin and me. I don’t stop to dwell on why I can’t or won’t share them.
When she’s finished with my blowout, she sends me over to Nia. I select a neutral shade for my fingers and toes, and the tension I’d been holding onto gets washed away with the bubbles.
“God, you have magical hands,” I tell her.
Sarah sinks onto the chair beside me. “Already cheating on me? Rude.”
I roll my head to the side and smile at her. “Maybe we should form a throuple.”
“Nia’s in a situationship with Mo,” she says. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me. But feel free to invite that hottie cowboy husband of yours.”
“I told you, it’s not like that. We’re getting an annulment.”
“Ok,” she draws out the word, disbelief etched in every feature of her face. “But if I know anything about the Hayes men, it’s that when they want something, they don’t give up easily. Think of it like buying underwear. Once you’ve tried it on, you can’t return it.”
“And a man like that? You don’t just throw him out with the trash, either,” Nia says.
“I think we need to break up. You two are the worst.”
“Love you, too,” Sarah says.
When all is said and done, I head into the early spring air with a pep in my step, relaxed and reinvigorated. I just hope I can hold onto this feeling when Tyler gets back from the honeymoon. I’m not so delusional as to think I won’t have to face him eventually. We live in a small town, after all. When I do, he won’t know what hit him.
Griffin
I’m parked along Main Street when a familiar figure walks out of the salon, capturing my attention. Angelina has always been the most beautiful woman I’ve laid eyes on, but fuck me, I might never recover from the sight of her strolling down the sidewalk looking like a goddamn siren with deep red lips and silky dark hair blowing in the breeze.
That’s my wife.
Mywife.
As she’s getting into her car, something falls from her purse. She doesn’t seem to notice, closing the door behind her. I try to get her attention, but she’s already pulling away from the curb in her little red sports car.
Even her car is sexy as hell.
I jog across the street and pick up the long, thin piece of paper. My jaw drops when I flip it over and see four photos of the most gorgeous woman alive. It’s not her physical beauty that stops me in my tracks this time; it’s her radiance, as though she captured the sun and kept it all for herself.
I could do the right thing—text her, let her know I have her photos, and return them to her.
But I don’t do any of those things.
Instead, I carefully fold it up and tuck it in my wallet.
Finders keepers.
And Iwillfind a way to keep her.
Chapter 7
Donkeys With Pink Eye Wait for No One
? I Think I Like You Better When You’re Gone
- Renee Rapp
Angelina
I strollinto the office and wave at Marnie behind the desk. Judging by the roll of her eyes, she must be on the phone with her on-again, off-again boyfriend, Marcus. She stops twirling her blonde hair around her finger long enough to wave as I stride into my private office in the back, depositing my purse on the floor next to my desk.
