by Piper Rayne
She shoos me, and I follow Marie toward the back. I point at Palmer before I go. “Don’t let anything happen to her.”
“Ethel could use the practice. She doesn’t have any great-grandchildren yet.”
I walk backward, Grandma following me, and watch as Ethel allows Palmer to stack nail polish bottles on the table. Marie leads me to the wash sink.
“Just a trim, Marie. You can just wet my hair if that’s easier.”
“Nonsense. Dori said a shampoo, a bikini wax, the entire works.”
“Wax?” Oh, God no.
“Yes, dear, it’s been a while.” Grandma leans over the sink to look down at me. “You need to look good down there.”
I cross my legs. “Can we not talk about waxing?”
“We’re all ladies. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Your grandfather—”
I hold up my hand. “Please stop. Please.”
I never knew my grandfather—he passed before I was born—but I swear Grandma thinks we want to know all about their entire relationship, including the bedroom.
“Fine, but if he liked it, maybe Jamison does too. You’re missing out.” She sits in the chair at the sink next to me.
“I was with Jamison for long enough to know what he likes.” Why am I even entertaining this conversation?
“It’s been a long time. His tastes could have changed.”
“Marie, isn’t there a rule about only having customers in the back?” I look up at her as her long nails dig into my scalp. It feels like heaven and sends shivers down my neck.
“Oh, sweetie, I think you know that no rules apply to your grandma,” she says.
Grandma Dori pats my knee. “See? She’s sweet, unlike my ungrateful grandchildren.”
“Can you at least check on Palmer?”
The door chime rings, and Dori perks up next to me. “No need! There are our reinforcements.”
A million little voices ring out and I hear Harley telling everyone to quiet down.
I bolt up and soap runs down into my eye. “You called Harley?”
She pats my knee. “Sit down. And yes, I did. Palmer loves her cousins.”
“Harley has enough on her plate.”
Marie gently pushes me back over the sink with a hand on my shoulder.
“Oh, you have it all wrong. She’s going to give you a massage. Denver is coming too. Kingston’s going to meet him, and they’ll take the kids to the park until you’re all relaxed.”
Harley comes back and pats my leg. “Hey, girl, I hear tonight’s the lucky night.”
“What are you talking about? I came here for a haircut.” I shift to get up, but Marie shoves me back down in the chair again.
“Almost done,” Marie says.
I peek up with one eye to see Harley above me. “You’re in on this?”
“I thought you were in the know. Dori?”
“Please, none of you would get anything done without me.” Grandma Dori stands and walks toward the reception area. “Grandma Dori has candy!”
All the kids scream, and I hear Calista telling Palmer to come with her.
“Don’t worry, Palmer is following. Calista signed to her.” I can hear the pride in Harley’s voice. “Jamison has had quite an effect on her. I caught her watching a YouTube video the other day about signing.”
I glance over and Harley’s smiling proudly. She’s a great mother.
“While you get a cut, since this was all a surprise, I’m going to drive them to the—” she stops. “Never mind. I hear Denver.”
“What’s up, munchkins? Your favorite uncle is here,” Denver says, and all the kids cheer.
“And don’t worry, Stella’s going to the park after she’s done working. A doctor is good to have around with this lot.” Harley touches my knee.
I feel oddly vulnerable and exposed.
“Dori gave them candy, so unless you’re hiding ice cream, you’re nothing right now,” Harley yells toward the front of the shop.
“Is that the lucky lady?” Denver’s voice grows closer. “You want Cleo to call you with some tips? I know it’s been a while.”
I hold up my hand. “Okay, enough with all this. No one said anything about me getting lucky.”
I stand with the towel on my head, and Marie guides me to her chair.
Denver plops down in the chair next to me. “From the way I heard it, you could’ve gotten lucky weeks ago.” Denver holds up his hand to stop himself from talking. “Oh, but you were preggo. That’s right. Damn you for being such a great sister.”
“First of all, it hasn’t been six weeks yet, and second—”
“Didn’t you have a C-section?” Harley asks, sitting on my other side.
“Yes.”
“So technically you could do it at four weeks, if your doctor gave you the go-ahead.”
“Seriously, only you would know the guidelines of when you can have sex after birth. You’re probably knocked up again.” Denver twirls around in the chair.
“Please don’t do that,” Marie says.
Denver stops, which for him is progress.
“Let’s get back to the topic at hand. So are you getting back together with Jamie boy or not?” Denver asks.
“Of course she is,” Harley says. “From everything I’ve seen and heard, they’re meant to be together.”
The door chimes again. Damn it. What now? I look through the reflection of the mirror, but I can’t see the doorway.
“No worries, all. Jamison has no idea what’s happening tonight.” Kingston walks in and takes the seat next to Harley, twirling it around. Marie says nothing to him about it, but then again, he smiles with those two dimples that always let him get away with everything. “Hey, Marie, love the new color.”
Harley and I stare slack-jawed while he flirts with a sixty-year-old woman.
I finally yell above the chaos, “Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on and why I’m not in the know?”
The salon quiets except for the sound of Calista rounding up the little ones for a round of Duck, Duck, Goose in the middle of the salon.
“You’re going on a date with Jamison tonight,” Harley says.
“No, I’m not.”
Everyone’s chairs twirl toward Grandma Dori, who says, “I make no apologies. He’ll be at your door at five-thirty. And please don’t fight this. I’ve seen you since he returned. He’s made amends, and it’s best to get on with it. We all had a vote on it.”
I look right and left without moving my head while Marie quietly clips my hair, probably logging all this for an email she’ll send into Buzz Wheel later.
“Seriously?” I say to them all.
Harley holds up her hands. “I thought you knew. Honest.”
“I think you’ve made him suffer with blue balls long enough.” Denver holds up his hand. “I voted for the date.”
Kingston says nothing but tries to lure Palmer to him, probably using her as a distraction.
“And you, King?” I ask.
He shrugs when Palmer is more interested in playing with her cousins. “I always liked Jamison, and he seems like he’s doing well. I want you to be happy and I think Jamison makes you happy, so I voted… yes.”
“Sorry, Rome must have voted yes,” Harley whispers, then mumbles something about not being asked.
“This is a good thing. I have no idea why you’re acting like you don’t want him,” Denver says.
“I saw you guys hugging at the lake.” Kingston cringes.
“Yes, because Palmer almost fell in the lake. Jamison caught her.”
“Rome and I bonded over Calista that time she cut herself,” Harley says. “Sometimes you have to share that fear to realize no two people love your kid as much as you guys.” She smiles. “But if you think you’re not ready, then don’t do it.”
“Harley, can I speak to you for a moment?” Grandma Dori asks.
Harley’s eyes roll and she stands.
“Oh, you’re in trouble,”
Denver teases.
Marie shoots Denver a look to say get out of my shop.
“Why is everyone up in my business?” I ask.
Kingston slides over to where Harley was sitting. “Um… did you not grow up as a Bailey?” He twirls again in the chair.
I’m not sure any of us have grown up over the years.
Denver leans forward as Marie pushes my head so my chin touches my chest. “Honestly, are we not supposed to be on Team Scotland?”
His eyes make it clear this is a genuine question. I sigh. My body is weakening toward Jamison, and yes, Dr. Estes told me because I had a C-section, I don’t have to wait any longer if I feel ready. But it’s a big step.
“Oh please, we’re totally Team Scotland,” Kingston says. “You know you love him. He fucked up. Big time. But it’s not like he did it because he’s an asshole. He was tackling an addiction, and as far as I know, he’s clean and sober now. Why torment the guy any longer?” Kingston shakes my leg.
They’re lucky Phoenix is in Los Angeles right now. I’m sure she’d be up for explaining to them all why they’re wrong.
“Please stop touching her,” Marie says, lifting the scissors.
“Sorry, Marie.” Kingston smiles at her.
They’re right. It’s not like I’m against it anymore. It’s just been figuring out when the time is right. Every night when he leaves, I yearn for him to stay and share my bed with me, but I chicken out and don’t say anything.
“Let Stella and me take Palmer for the night,” Kingston offers.
“How come he always gets her? I’m her uncle too.” Denver swivels. Palmer is looking toward us, so he pats his leg. “Come here, Palmer.”
She shakes her head and grabs Calista’s hand.
“Man, I swear I’m the better-looking brother.” Denver sounds perplexed as to why his niece wouldn’t stop what she’s doing and race over to him.
Harley raises her hand. “Rome’s definitely the best-looking Bailey brother.”
Denver’s eyes narrow. “We’re identical twins, Harley. How do you figure?”
“I guess personality can make you more attractive.” She laughs.
Denver jumps up from the chair. Harley rushes away from him and puts Dion in front of her. Dion gets on the defense and puts up both hands as though he’s going to protect his mom. We all laugh, including Denver, who takes Dion from Harley and puts him over his shoulder.
“Sorry,” I mumble to Marie.
“It’s fine.” She smiles, looking through the mirror at the chaos behind her. “You’re all done. I’ll blow you out, then we’ll go do the wax.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“It’s not just about the man’s pleasure. It will make you feel beautiful too.” Marie pats my shoulders and steps away to grab some product to put in my hair.
She’s right—I need to feel beautiful. I look through the reflection of the mirror at my crazy family here for me. They’ll catch me if this goes south. Why keep myself from something I want just because of fear? He did make a mistake, a huge one, but it was a mistake just the same.
First things first though—I have to tell him about right after Palmer was born. He deserves to know I’m not so perfect either.
Twenty-Two
Jamison
At five-thirty sharp, I show up at Sedona’s door wearing a suit I bought from Mr. Johnson. Which reminds me, I have to figure out what to do with my condo and the rest of my stuff in New York.
I ring the bell and wait. Sedona opens the door, her dark hair cascading down in long spirals, her makeup done perfectly, and wearing a dress that covers everything but makes my hands itching to touch her.
“Hey,” she says.
“You look gorgeous.” I might as well be that pathetic dog with his eyes popped out of his head and his tongue hanging out. Sedona’s always beautiful whether she’s hungover or she’s dressed for a night out, but I haven’t seen her like this in a while.
“Thanks. I wish…” She shakes her head. “Are you ready?” Leaving me at the door, she swipes her purse from the small table by the door.
“Where’s Palmer?” I ask as she locks up her apartment.
“She’s with Kingston and Stella tonight.”
Although I miss seeing my little girl, having a night out with just Sedona more than makes up for it. “They’re all very hands-on with her. They don’t treat her deafness as something negative or leave her out because of it, huh?”
She side-eyes me as we walk down her stairs to the street below. “They’ve all been really good about including her. They do their best to communicate with her, but I hope she learns to read lips as she gets older. It will make life easier for her. I understand now why you’re always signing as you’re talking to her. That will help. I need to do that more.”
I open the building door that leads to the street and she slides by me. “It’s hard to remember to do it.”
I can’t give her parenting advice. She’s been at it for almost two years, and I’m still a newbie.
When I reach out to touch the small of her back, I retract my hand because we’re not a couple anymore. She glances at me as though she has the same thoughts. God, it’s excruciating being so close to her physically but so far emotionally.
“Your chariot awaits.”
“It’s a minivan.” She quirks her eyebrow.
I nod. “There’s a lot of room in the back should the mood arise.”
She smiles and says nothing, sliding into the passenger seat. It has to be a good sign that she didn’t take the opportunity to shut me down.
Once we’re settled in the car, my gaze strays to her shapely legs. Her legs are the part of her I love the most. When I came home late from traveling back from a game and her leg was peeking out from under the sheets, no matter how tired I was, I craved her. My vision skates along her body and I relish the memory of her underneath me.
Our eyes lock and she fidgets as though she’s remembering the same thing.
“I’m not the same,” she says.
Sedona and I always did communicate well without words. One look and we knew what the other was thinking.
“Yeah, you are.” I start the van and pull away from the curb.
She’s quiet for a moment. “Pregnancy changes your body. Now I have a C-section scar adding to what Palmer already did.”
We stop at a red light before I have to turn onto the interstate toward Sunrise Bay. “I don’t care about any of that.”
“I just thought you should know in case the time comes—”
“When,” I clarify.
She giggles into her hand. Once again, no hand in the air telling me no. Another good sign.
“Well, don’t expect to see the same woman. There are stretch marks and I’m not nearly as thin.” Her hands press to her stomach and she inhales a deep breath.
I cover her hands with one of mine. “I’m positive it’s as beautiful as always.”
A soft smile lands on her lips, but I’m not sure she believes me. In a way, I understand where she’s coming from. I’ve seen my body change now that I’m not working out with trainers and running across the pitch nonstop. But I wish she could see herself through my eyes.
“I’m not the cut guy you used to drool over.”
She huffs. “Drool? Me?” She points at herself.
The light turns green, so I turn onto the interstate. “Come on. You loved my body as much as I love yours.”
When I came back from Scotland to play in the MLS, her gaze ate me up all the time she saw me without a shirt. I wasn’t blind. I never minded her ogling my body, but I have the same insecurities she has. I’m still fit and muscular, but my abs aren’t nearly as well-defined as they once were. My days of ten percent body fat are gone.
“Maybe, but drooling is kind of an exaggeration.”
I glance toward her, and she turns to look out the window.
“So we’re both insecure about our bodies… are we thinking lights off ton
ight?”
Another huff as if she’s annoyed by my forwardness, but not actually putting me in my place. “You’re way too much tonight.”
She likes it though. She always used to like it when I talked like that. Of course it used to be a lot dirtier, but I don’t want to push her too far.
Getting off the interstate, I drive into Sunrise Bay and pull in where the GPS on my phone tells me to. It’s the parking lot of a bed-and-breakfast.
“You know I didn’t make this reservation, right?” Parking the minivan, I pull out my phone to double-check, and yeah, it’s the same address the mystery number texted me.
“I know, I wasn’t exactly turning you down, but this is a big assumption,” she says from the passenger seat, staring at the inn sign the same way I am.
I scan the area because I have to be missing something. Sure enough, there’s a small restaurant attached to the north side of the building. I point. “There. A restaurant.”
I exit the van and walk around to open up her door. We walk across the parking lot to the door for the restaurant called Seafins. Inside, the space has huge windows that showcase the glittering bay and the mountains visible in the distance.
“It’s gorgeous.” Sedona’s hand falls on her heart. “How did I never know this was here?”
“I have no idea.” I’m just as speechless from the view, and that’s saying something when you’ve spent so much time in Alaska.
The hostess comes over with a wide smile that makes me think she knows who we are before I even give her my name. Grabbing two leather-bound menus, she walks us to a table right beside the window. We thank her and sit, barely able to take our eyes off the view.
A waiter greets us before we have a chance to look at the menu. “Welcome to Seafins. Can I get you anything to drink?”
Both the waiter and I defer to Sedona.
“A glass of…” Her eyes meet mine with a guilty look. “Just a Diet Coke.”
“She’ll have a glass of pinot noir,” I correct because it’s always been her drink of choice at a fancy restaurant. She gets pinot noir, and I’d get whiskey on ice.
“No. I haven’t had caffeine in so long. I want the Diet Coke.”
I stare at her long and hard, but she doesn’t budge. Blowing out a breath, I look at the waiter, who surely doesn’t understand our push and pull. “I’ll have a Diet Coke as well.”
