Page 14 of The Man I Love

“Now for the fun part,” the stylist said to her reflection. “You ready?”

Samantha nodded, trying hard to keep the wobble from her voice. “I think so.”

The salon was relativelyquiet as Sam sat in the chair, flipping through the second beauty magazine she’d picked up in two hours. Her head was down, covered in a thousand lengths of foil as she read an article titled,“Celebrity Weight Loss Secrets,” a revolutionary new plan guaranteed to make you shed ten pounds in seven days.

Sam scoffed, disgusted by the beauty industry designed to make women feel like shit, and threw the magazine back on the pile. She took a deep breath, wiggling her toes inside her fur-lined boots, hoping the friction would warm them. It wasn’t working. Not for the first time, she wondered how in the world she would get used to this cold.

Intending to ask Renee just that, she glanced up but stopped when she found her best friend staring into nothingness. Her slender shoulders were propped against the wall, an exhausted slouch rendering her elegant figure almost unrecognizable.

“You okay?” Sam asked, sitting forward.

Renee’s chin jutted up. “Yeah, why?” But her tone was off, and her reply came much too quickly.

“I don’t know”—Sam tilted her head— “you seem…distracted.”

Renee covered a yawn, then looked down at her feet. “Tired is all,” she whispered, but Sam’s Spidey senses flared inside her chest.

Renee wasn’t acting herself. She wasn’t bubbly and dancing around the salon like she normally would. In fact, she’d hardly said more than a few words all morning. Sam tilted her head to the side, intending to push the subject farther, but her own reflection caught her eye. Her hair was mostly covered in foil, but the short wisps that escaped were barely long enough to reach her collarbone.

Sam reached for the ends, suddenly feeling uneasy. What if Tristan hated it? She hadn’t given him a second thought when she’d made this decision, but as she glanced at her reflection, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d made a terrible mistake. Steven, her ex-boyfriend, had told her on multiple occasions how much he hated short hair. In fact, he told her specifically not to cut too much every time she went to get a trim.“Your face is too round, Samantha. It wouldn’t suit you.”

Renee’s eyes met hers in the mirror, as though she read Sam’s thoughts.

“Think Tristan will like my hair?” Sam asked.

“Of course he will,” Renee said without skipping a beat.

“Steven hated short hair,” Sam stated, staring at her own reflection.

“That’s because Steven was an asshole.”

Sam nodded, then ran her fingers through her ends, gently tugging. She wasn’t sure why she was so harsh on herself, considering her mission as an artist was to show others the beauty others considered flaws. A rose, blistered by the settingsun. Wrinkles at the corners of middle-aged eyes caused by decades of laughter. A mother’s belly, riddled with stretch marks after keeping her child safe for nine months.

Tristan saw her in that way … sometimes, when she felt her worst, he thought she was her most beautiful.

“Have you talked to him today?”

Sam looked up. “What?”

“Have you talked to Tristan?” Renee clarified.

“No, why do you ask?”

Renee shrugged, but something in her expression gave Sam goosebumps.

“Spill it.” Sam sat forward a little. “What are you hiding?”

Renee turned in her seat, crossing her arms at her chest. “It’s just that—” her words stumbled over themselves–– “Dad called me yesterday.”

“What?” Sam practically fell off her seat.

“I didn’t answer.” Renee shook her head. “I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

“Did he leave a message?”

“No. He sent a text.”

“What did it say?”

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