“Sorry, spaced out there for a minute.” I’m sure she notices the way my cheeks flush, but doesn’t mention it. “Um, let’s start with Eamon. I feel like he’ll be more forgiving of my nerves than Ro.”
“Good call. I’ll go get him.”
While Norah seeks out her fiance, I arrange all of the makeup and brushes along the vanity in the order I’ll need them. Eamon’s look will be a little easier because I’m essentially painting a black eye mask and red lips on him. Simple enough.
“Hiya, Layla,” Eamon’s deep voice greets me. I wouldn’t classify him as broody, but he’s definitely less inclined to start up a conversation than his Irish counterparts.
“Hey, you ready for this?” I motion for him to sit in the chair opposite me, only slightly worried that his larger form won’t fit. He’s not big and bulky, but the guy is tall, lean, and muscular.
“Not in the least, but here we are.”
“You’re a good sport,” I tell him while I search through the tubes of foundation to find one that best matches his skin tone.
A low chuckle sounds before he says, “It makes her happy, so of course I’ll do it.”
Norah really could not have found a better match.
“I don’t think I ever really thanked you,” he says, startling me.
“For what?”
“For sticking by Norah while I was being a proper arsehole. And for being so good for Teag. I realize neither of those things were done specifically for me, but I appreciate them all the same.”
Tilting my head to the side, I tell him, “You’re right. I don’t do either of those for you, but you’re important to two of the people I love most. That means you’re important to me too, Eamon. I understand why you sent Norah away. It absolutely wasnotthe right decision, but I get it. You were trying to put her first, and I admire that.”
Eamon looks down at his lap and clears his throat. “Thanks, Layla. That means a lot. You’re uh, you’re important to me too.”
It’s a sweet, but awkward moment for us, so I clap my hands together and reach for a brush. “Let’s get started. I only have so much time to transform you three.”
* * *
“All done, Ro. Are those lashes bugging you?”
“No, love, they’re okay. I think. A little heavy, but nothin’ is poking my eyes out. When can I look?” Rowan cranes his neck in an attempt to peek in the mirror.
“Wait!” I order. “Let’s at least get the wig on.”
“Ach, I forgot about the bleedin’ wig.” He rolls his heavily lashed eyes, the overhead lights catching the sparkles in the shimmery fibers.
“Hey, you’ve done so great today. Don’t start whining now.”
Rowan has been an absolute delight. He’s cracked jokes and followed instructions perfectly. Unlike the other two.
“Have you seen it, lass? It’s godawful! It doesn’t even look real!” He’s so indignant I can’thelp but laugh.
“That’s the point, Ro,” Norah sing-songs from across the room. “Now come here so we can get your chaps on.”
“Right-o, fire sprite!” The tall, redhead springs from the chair and sashays toward Norah as if he’s on a runway, the sparkly, denim boy shorts barely covering his ass. He is, without a doubt, the biggest diva I’ve ever met.
Now that the three of them have their makeup and hair done, I start packing up the items I brought with me and organizing the department’s products. Glancing in the mirror, I catch Teagan’s reflection. He’s perched on the edge of a chair, and even with the thick layer of makeup, I can tell he’s pale. Sweat beads on his brow as he breathes deeply, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth.
“You okay over there?” I ask cautiously.
“No,” he groans as his blonde, wig-clad head drops between his shoulders over the small trashcan between his knees that I didn’t notice earlier.
“Fecking hell, Norah. These chaps are heavy!” Rowan blurts out.
“You look great, Ro. And you’re a good sport,” Norah assures him. “You’ve complained the least out of the three of you.”
