Page 62 of When the Fake Snow Falls

I shake my head. “It would never work. I’m just . . . I’m just in a bit of a predicament, I guess.”

She audibly gasps. “Ooh, is he married?”

Letting out a baffled laugh, I say, “What? No. Not at all.”

She’s quiet for a moment, like she’s trying to decide if she believes me. “Trying to pick between two?”

I shake my head with a bemused smile still on my lips.

Nicolette sighs. “If your boyfriend is the one who pays the bills, I understand why you’d stay with him. I know a lot of women who won’t leave their husbands for the same reason. That’s why I climbed the corporate ladder myself.”

Oh, how badly I want to roll my eyes at this woman. You would think she’s never done anything for herself with the way she acts sometimes. I swear she’s a country club wife at heart. I take a deep breath, and before turning around, I put on my best smile. “I could probably learn a thing or two from you.” When all else fails, go with flattery.

Lifting her chin, she says, “Oh, I have no doubt.” Eyeing me in the mirror again, she lifts a feline brow. “If you’re trying to decide who to sleep with, go with the guy who earns less than you—they’re usually better in bed. If you’re trying to be taken care of in other ways . . . well, then find a man who earns more.” She shrugs casually. “Some women end up having both.”

I let out a breath of laughter. “Right.” Peeking at one of her foils, I say, “Let’s get this hair washed,” and hope that’s the end of this conversation.

It’s not. She goes on about how men who earn less usually feel the need toprovethemselves in bed, and by the time my other client, Brianna, arrives, I’m desperate to greet her and get started. Fortunately, Nicolette has some sense of self-awareness around people who aren’t me, and the small talk she makes with Brianna stays within the safe confines of nail polish colors and designer handbags.

I end up getting home late thanks to the last-minute hair emergency and settle into the couch as I catch Miles up on Nicolette’s fucked up philosophy on men.

“Damn.” He shakes his head. “I mean, I guess she has a point. If she’s just looking for a good time, why not date younger?”

I huff. “Notyounger,just someone who earns less.” I turn back toward the TV where Miles and I are watching all the Christmas episodes fromThe Office.

“Oh. Yeah, that’s fucked. Is she hot?”

“Gorgeous, but talking to her is exhausting, and I’m only with her for a couple of hours a week. I can only imagine how the men she dates must feel.”

My phone lights up on the couch between us.

Chase:

Candace.

Miles drops his gaze to the phone before raising his eyebrows with a pleased look on his face. “Speaking of men you are dating . . .”

I shoot him a warning look and grab my phone.

Candace:

Chase.

His response comes in right away.

Chase:

I need a haircut.

My breath comes out more like a scoff.

“Something wrong?” Miles asks.

“He wants a haircut,” I say as I type my next message.

Candace:

Then go get a haircut.

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