Page 18 of The Holiday Ex-Files

I looked at my achy hands one more time. Noah was sure getting weird.

I focused on the message I received. It was from a client, Rachelle, who had turned into a friend. Poor woman was a glutton for punishment. She was a repeat client, not willing to give up on finding love. She believed her man was out there and that if you wanted the right results, you had to put in the effort, even if that meant dating all the yahoos. Not that she thought they were yahoos to begin with, but they all ended up in that category.

Rachelle: Hey girl, Dave and I broke up over the weekend. I know what you’re going to say and maybe you’re right. I just need to give up on men. But I thought he was the one. I don’t even have the heart to have you crop him out of any of the pictures we had taken together. Will it ever be my turn?

My eyes began to water. I felt the heartbreak in each word. So much so, my snarky first instinct to tell her I told her so was obliterated. I bit my lip, trying to think how to respond. Thoughts of how sparkly old Cami would respond started popping up in my head. I rubbed my temples, trying to massage away her perkiness and cheerful outlook on life. Wow, was she a peppy optimist. Thankfully, Andrew saved me from myself when he appeared. Bless him.

“Hello, Cami. Are you ready?”

I popped up like a burning piece of toast. I was one step away from my brain catching on fire. Old Cami had me on overload.

Tell her love is worth waiting for, Miss Sparkly yelled in my head. Maybe it will still work out. Don’t give up hope.

Oh, no, no, no. It would be best for her to give up hope. The poor girl had been through enough already.

I zoomed toward Andrew like that would help turn Miss Sparkly off. That was wishful thinking.

Your turn is just around the corner, I can feel it. Hang on, she continued.

You are not a psychic, Sparkles. Don’t say things like that.

Hey, missy, I was here first. Why don’t you let me drive for a while? I don’t like the direction you’ve been going. We aren’t any happier, now are we?

Great, the voices in my head were making it sound like I had multiple personality disorder.

Ladies, could we do this another time? I begged. I just want to get my hair done. Thank you.

Andrew tilted his head. He was sporting a new skater look, long on top, shaved on the sides. It worked for him. “Do you need a moment? You look bewildered.”

That was one way to put it.

I plastered on a fake Cami smile. “I’m great.”

He pressed his lips together as if he meant to disagree, but like always when it came to me as of late, he kept his correct opinions to himself. I kind of wished he wouldn’t. I didn’t want to be handled with kid gloves. I was fine. Really, I was. Maybe I wasn’t all sparkles and sunshine, but I was a functioning, successful adult, making my own way in the world. That had to count for something.

Andrew turned and headed to his station toward the back of the salon. I quietly followed him, garnering a few stares, with one woman pointing me out to her stylist. I was semi-famous, or more like infamous, in Aspen Lake. Everyone knew of my situation. I’d made sure of it when I’d posted those pictures almost three years ago. I didn’t regret it. But sometimes I wondered if perhaps I’d called Mara first, or gone to my parents’ place and let the grief sink in before I’d acted, if I’d be here now. But those first few hours, I was filled with such rage, I didn’t even cry. Because I feared once the tears came, they would never stop. I knew I would have to think about things I didn’t want to face. I would have to tell Ben why I had come home early. That was too much for me to bear at the time, so I did the only thing I could think of in the moment, that is after I kicked him out. He’d never even said sorry. Instead, he’d blamed me for coming home early. I’d figured since it was so easy for him to discard me, I would return the favor and erase him from my life. If only removing him in photos would have translated into real life.

Without a word, I took a seat in Andrew’s chair. We took a moment to stare at one another in the mirror before we commenced with our usual song and dance.

“How’s your family?” he started.

“Good. How’s Erin?”

His big, goofy, I-love-my-wife grin came out. It was one of the only times he smiled. “Perfect as usual.”

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