Caroline grinned, then gave me a look that said, See? Not so bad.
But it was bad, at least for me. I had never done this before. Never sat in a salon chair for fun, or splurged on a treatment, or even let a professional touch my hair since I was sixteen. It felt extravagant. Unnecessary. And Eryn could get any number of people to take photos for her wellness retreat. I knew that was just an excuse to get me to agree. I looked at my feet, then at theceiling, then at the stylist—who wore a shag haircut and a smile as sharp as a carving knife—and immediately wanted to run.
Eryn caught the look. “Hey. You okay?”
I shook my head, though it was barely visible. “I can’t afford this. And I don’t want to be in pictures. I—” My voice went all shaky and small. “You don’t have to do this for me.”
Caroline squeezed my wrist again, then slid her arm around my shoulders. “Lily, you’re beautiful and you deserve to feel like it.”
Eryn nodded, stepping closer so we formed a tiny, private huddle in the middle of the salon. “It’s my treat, and I won’t take no for an answer. I’m serious, Lil. You’ve been busting your butt for so long. Let us pamper you for once.”
Something inside me cracked a little. I stared at the floor, blinking so hard my eyes hurt, and tried to remember the last time anyone had wanted to do something nice for me just because.
I couldn’t remember.
I started to say No, I can’t, I really can’t, but the words came out wrong, the voice cracking in the middle. “I don’t—” I started, but then stopped, because my chest was suddenly too tight.
Caroline pulled me into a real hug, and Eryn joined in, all the feminine vibes somehow fitting together around me in the most comforting way. “You don’t have to earn it, okay?” Caroline murmured. “You’re allowed to have things, too.”
I nodded, breath hitching. “Okay,” I managed, but it was soft and a little shaky. “But I have to get Noah from daycare at six-thirty.” Luckily the church daycare was only a few blocks away.
Eryn grinned, her smile big enough to light up the whole salon. “Yes! Let’s do this. We’ll get you to Noah on time, I promise.”
Caroline squeezed my hand one last time, then released me to the mercy of the stylist, who introduced herself as Missy andgot to work with the practiced efficiency of someone who dealt with nervous women all day.
We were settled into the chairs before I knew it, Eryn and Caroline chatting a mile a minute about hair trends, ranch drama, and, inevitably, men. I listened, letting the sound of their voices smooth out the rough edges inside me, and every now and then caught myself almost smiling.
Missy draped the black cape over me, her hands gentle and careful around my neck, and for the first time, I relaxed into the chair. “You have such lovely hair,” she said, running her fingers through the tangled mess. “It’s healthy and soft. I’m thinking some natural highlights and a bit of shape?”
I nodded mutely, then caught Eryn’s eye in the mirror. She winked, and for a split second, I actually believed I belonged here.
Caroline leaned over, her eyes warm. “You’re doing great, Lil.”
I wanted to say thank you, but the words got stuck. Instead, I smiled at her reflection, then at Eryn’s, then at myself. It was tentative, and not even a little bit glamorous, but it was real.
Maybe I did deserve this, just a little.
Maybe, for once, it was okay to let people care.
Soon, the salon hummed with the quiet energy of women getting transformed. Light from overhead spilled across the floor, turning every mirrored surface into a spotlight, and the air was thick with the mingled scents of jasmine, coconut, and that weird chemical tang of permanent wave. I sat sandwiched between Caroline and Eryn in front of a wall-length mirror, all three of us caped in sleek black polyester, looking like a trio of slightly nervous superheroes.
Missy ran her hands through my hair, clucking thoughtfully. “Healthy ends, but you’re hiding all this pretty under a mop,” she said, as if speaking to a shy child.
I grinned, but didn’t answer. It felt weird being fussed over, but also—if I was honest—a little bit nice. I glanced in the mirror and caught Caroline smirking at me, her green eyes shining like she was in on a private joke.
Eryn lounged in her chair, all legs and stacked bracelets, and let her hair swing as she turned to face us. “So, are we doing the full treatment? I say we get her some serious va-va-voom.”
Caroline laughed, a low, happy sound. “Lily doesn’t need va-va-voom. She needs something easy to care for.”
Missy winked at me. “We can do both, you know.” She glanced at my reflection, then at the color swatches on her cart. “I’m seeing caramel highlights with a few bright pieces to frame your face. Maybe some curtain bangs.”
I squirmed under the cape. “Whatever’s easiest,” I said, then bit the inside of my cheek, wishing I’d said nothing at all.
“Oh, come on,” Eryn said, leaning over. “Live a little.”
Before I could answer, Missy was on to mix her bleach, leaving me to the mercy of my friends and the world’s most unforgiving mirror.
Caroline’s hair was already in foils, the silver sheets fanned out like a science project gone glam. She fiddled with the hem of her sleeve. “Walker thinks I’m having a secret identity crisis,” she said, “but I just want to look less like a doctor and more like a woman.”
