think.”
Relief forced her breath from her body in a whoosh. “Okay, then.”
He leaned over and took her free hand. “You are the only woman I have
ever committed myself to… No matter how long that lasted, you are. You’re the
mother of my two beautiful sons, and for that I will always love you.”
She squeezed his fingers briefly before uncurling her feet from
underneath her and standing up. “Are you sure you can drive?”
“It’s barely one glass,” he replied, understanding her need for him to
go. “Let me look in on the boys and I’ll get going.”
“Okay.”
He leapt up the stairs and Stella bent double, forcing the sobs back
into her body. Go, go, go, she begged him. Don’t see me like this.
Don’t see me weak for you. She heard the tell-tale squeak of the
floorboards at the top of the stairs. It forced her to pull herself together.
Turning back into the living room, she took a huge gulp of wine and nearly
choked. Stupid man .
He strolled back into the living room and tugged on the cardigan. “So,
I’ll see you Friday night?”
Oh yes. It’s his weekend with the
twins. “You may as well just collect them from school.
We’re doing an event at the salon.”
With a nod, he folded his arms and stared down at his shoes. Stella
shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and looked away. For a
moment, she watched cars passing sporadically down the street. She didn’t
notice him approach, so focused on the cars outside, it was a shock when his
arms slid around her torso, pulling her into an embrace.
“Can we try to be friends?”
The break in his voice clean cut away her resolve. “Oh my God, Niels, I
can’t be your friend. It’s like a fucking demotion.”
He chuckled, tucking her more tightly against him. “Not really. But can
we try? For the boys?” She gave a listless nod and he released her. His eyes
were rimmed in red, searching through her own. He gently cupped her face and
traced the lightest, sweetest kiss goodbye over her lips.
“I’ll see you.”
She brushed him away and sniffed. “Yeah, see you.” Sitting down, she
didn’t watch him go, only cradled the glass of wine until the door closed
gently. Crying would do her no good, she resolved. Drinking her way through the
rest of the bottle of wine really would.
Ooh, Silence of the Lambs was listed on her Freeview. If anything
would distract her, blood, gore, and Anthony Hopkins would definitely do it.
***
Two years before marriage
“I can’t do it, I’ll hurt him!”
Stella raised her eyebrows over the pile of towels in her hands. “Hurt
who?”
Her manager turned to her, hands against his artfully thin beard.
“There’s a gentleman outside who wants a traditional shave. I can’t do it. Look
at my hands, Stel!”
He held them out to her and they were indeed vibrating like he held a
pneumatic drill. “Oh, God. I’ll do it.”
She handed him the towels and made her way to the reception. “Thank you
darling!” her manager called after her. “You’ll thank me later!”
Hmm. As if she didn’t have a timesheet to complete, orders to fill, and
a supply coordinator to shout at.
For all her manager’s flouncing and declarations, he really did have no
idea how to deal with anything. The panic mode for every single possible
scenario wore thin the closer she came to leaving her job in order to set up
her own salon. Class Cuts had its day. Stella wanted to move on and
upward.
Forcing a smile to her face, she walked into the reception and said,
“Traditional shave?”
Dressed in a simple but sharply tailored shirt and trousers, a man
stepped forward, answering with an ever-so-slightly accented voice, “That would
be for me.”
Stella blinked once. No. He still stood there. In all his blond glory.
She blinked again. Her brain had not conjured him. “Umm…”
“Stella!” her manager called from the treatment area. “Chair’s free!”
She breathed in deeply, once, inhaling the salon’s
Relief forced her breath from her body in a whoosh. “Okay, then.”
He leaned over and took her free hand. “You are the only woman I have
ever committed myself to… No matter how long that lasted, you are. You’re the
mother of my two beautiful sons, and for that I will always love you.”
She squeezed his fingers briefly before uncurling her feet from
underneath her and standing up. “Are you sure you can drive?”
“It’s barely one glass,” he replied, understanding her need for him to
go. “Let me look in on the boys and I’ll get going.”
“Okay.”
He leapt up the stairs and Stella bent double, forcing the sobs back
into her body. Go, go, go, she begged him. Don’t see me like this.
Don’t see me weak for you. She heard the tell-tale squeak of the
floorboards at the top of the stairs. It forced her to pull herself together.
Turning back into the living room, she took a huge gulp of wine and nearly
choked. Stupid man .
He strolled back into the living room and tugged on the cardigan. “So,
I’ll see you Friday night?”
Oh yes. It’s his weekend with the
twins. “You may as well just collect them from school.
We’re doing an event at the salon.”
With a nod, he folded his arms and stared down at his shoes. Stella
shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and looked away. For a
moment, she watched cars passing sporadically down the street. She didn’t
notice him approach, so focused on the cars outside, it was a shock when his
arms slid around her torso, pulling her into an embrace.
“Can we try to be friends?”
The break in his voice clean cut away her resolve. “Oh my God, Niels, I
can’t be your friend. It’s like a fucking demotion.”
He chuckled, tucking her more tightly against him. “Not really. But can
we try? For the boys?” She gave a listless nod and he released her. His eyes
were rimmed in red, searching through her own. He gently cupped her face and
traced the lightest, sweetest kiss goodbye over her lips.
“I’ll see you.”
She brushed him away and sniffed. “Yeah, see you.” Sitting down, she
didn’t watch him go, only cradled the glass of wine until the door closed
gently. Crying would do her no good, she resolved. Drinking her way through the
rest of the bottle of wine really would.
Ooh, Silence of the Lambs was listed on her Freeview. If anything
would distract her, blood, gore, and Anthony Hopkins would definitely do it.
***
Two years before marriage
“I can’t do it, I’ll hurt him!”
Stella raised her eyebrows over the pile of towels in her hands. “Hurt
who?”
Her manager turned to her, hands against his artfully thin beard.
“There’s a gentleman outside who wants a traditional shave. I can’t do it. Look
at my hands, Stel!”
He held them out to her and they were indeed vibrating like he held a
pneumatic drill. “Oh, God. I’ll do it.”
She handed him the towels and made her way to the reception. “Thank you
darling!” her manager called after her. “You’ll thank me later!”
Hmm. As if she didn’t have a timesheet to complete, orders to fill, and
a supply coordinator to shout at.
For all her manager’s flouncing and declarations, he really did have no
idea how to deal with anything. The panic mode for every single possible
scenario wore thin the closer she came to leaving her job in order to set up
her own salon. Class Cuts had its day. Stella wanted to move on and
upward.
Forcing a smile to her face, she walked into the reception and said,
“Traditional shave?”
Dressed in a simple but sharply tailored shirt and trousers, a man
stepped forward, answering with an ever-so-slightly accented voice, “That would
be for me.”
Stella blinked once. No. He still stood there. In all his blond glory.
She blinked again. Her brain had not conjured him. “Umm…”
“Stella!” her manager called from the treatment area. “Chair’s free!”
She breathed in deeply, once, inhaling the salon’s
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