Page 52 of Something Forever

“That would be great. Thank you.”

He waves his hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll send you the info. It’s black-tie.”

“Great,” I say, trying to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

“You got a girlfriend? Boyfriend?”

I wrinkle my brow. “Why does that matter?”

He shrugs. “Helps to have someone on your arm at these things.”

“Seriously?”

“It’s mostly me being selfish. I always bring Emily, and she never has anyone to talk to.”

“Well, yeah. I’m married,” I say. “Just this year, actually.”

“Congratulations!” He glances down at my left hand. “No ring?”

Shit.

Trying to school my expression into one of realization, I slip my hand into my pocket. I got Whitney a ring at that pawn shop, but I don’t have one myself. It’s never really come up before.

“I had a medical thing a few days ago, forgot to put it back on. Anyway, I’ll see if she can make it.”

Me and Whitney? At a black-tie gala?

This should be good.

21

WHITNEY

It’s only been six hours since I slipped out of Liam’s room and fled from my apartment like a thief in the night. At least I managed to shower and grab my laptop. I don’t know if it’s the afterglow of multiple orgasms, but I feel amazing. I’m meeting Shatar, my hairdresser, to discuss All Rhodes with her.

When I get to the salon, she wraps her arms around me in a warm hug. “You look great.”

“I love your hair,” I tell her.

“I’d love to say I cut it myself, but I didn’t.”

“Well, I need the number of whoever did.”

She glares at me. “And ditch me? Never.”

I laugh and she waves me over to the chair, but I stop her with my hand, glancing towards the hairdresser in the corner, chatting with her client. I lower my voice slightly. “I know I booked you, but can we grab a coffee around the corner? I actually just wanted to chat about something.”

She raises her eyebrows at me. “Oh? Okay. Sure thing.” She unties her apron and gathers her belongings, then follows me out of the shop.

When we get to the coffee shop, I turn to her. “What do you want? On me.”

She asks for a cappuccino, and we settle into a booth in the corner.

“So, what’s going on?” she asks me.

I take a deep breath. “I want you to come work for me. I’m opening a salon, and the first person I thought of is you.”

Shatar smiles. “Well, then. Tell me more.”

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