Page 194 of Securing the Pucking Rebound

I lie awake for hours, picturing all the things he could be doing with the bunnies who are willing to give him everything I haven’t. And what makes it worse, at no point in the night do I hear any noise from upstairs. He didn’t come home.

I tell myself to put it all behind me and just look forward when I wake the next morning. But it’s impossible. All day, despite having clients back to back, all I can think about is what he did last night. Where he slept. Who with. I know I’m only torturing myself, but I can’t stop it.

The coffees Bea ordered this morning in the hope of perking me up did very little, either did the burrito bowl I’d brought for lunch that I just picked at because my appetite has vanished.

The only thing I’m looking forward to is walking out of here in a few days, knowing that I’m going to be getting on an airplane and disappearing to a different state. Maybe being somewhere he isn’t will give me the space and clarity I need to figure my shit out.

My feet are aching from being on them all day, and my eyes are sore from my lack of sleep last night, so when I look at today’s schedule, I think I’m imagining it at first. But no, someone really has added another appointment to my day.

“Bea, what the hell?” I ask, assuming it’s her.

She winces as she joins me at the desk.

“I know, I’m sorry. I couldn’t say no,” she says apologetically. “I’ve got one too,” she adds as if that’ll make it any better. “Just think, before you know it, it’ll be January, and everyone will be too broke to treat themselves to facials and manicures.”

“Thank God for that. We’re gonna need a month to clean this place up.”

“Not to mention getting plans in place,” she says quietly.

I can’t deny there’s a fizzle of excitement in my stomach when she mentions our expansion.

We’ve both agreed to mostly shelve it until January, when we have to properly sit down and put firm plans in place, but the desire to dive right in is beyond tempting. I think it might be the only thing right now that has the power to distract me.

The day feels like it’s never going to end, and having a new client turn up when I should be falling headfirst into bed really doesn’t fill me with joy. But there’s nothing I can do about it, so I run into the back to pee and refill my bottle of water.

Savvy, Lessy, and Rachel have left already. It’s dark outside, and exhaustion tugs at every single one of my muscles.

Making small talk with someone for the next hour while I’m no doubt forced to paint little Christmas trees or snowmen on their nails is just about the last thing I want to do right now.

I hear the ding of the bell as I screw the top of my water bottle closed, followed by Bea welcoming them.

I take a moment to compose myself, but before I’ve finished my pep talk, the door opens and Bea slips into our staff room.

“Your client is here,” she says, looking a hell of a lot brighter than I feel, despite the fact she’s also growing a literal human as well as being run off her feet here.

“I’m…on it,” I say with very little enthusiasm.

She chuckles at me but holds the door open, probably to ensure I go out there instead of spinning around and slipping out the fire escape.

Christmas music fills the quiet salon along with the festive scents Bea has filled the space with.

I force a friendly smile on my face, but it falls the second I see exactly who’s waiting for me as anger and hurt collide in a heartbeat.

“What are you doing here?” I snap.

If he’s hurt or shocked by my words, then he doesn’t show it. Instead, he watches me cautiously, as if I’m about to reach for the nearest weapon and launch it at him.

To be fair, I might.

“I have an appointment.”

“N-no. I have an appointment with a Cally Smyth—asshole,” I hiss.

His lips twitch at the corners, satisfaction flashing in his eyes.

“So I guess Bea’s client is fake, too.”

This time, there’s a little guilt. “Don’t blame her for this. It was my idea.”