Page 30 of The One Before

Regina didn’t respond. Neither did Cooper. He didn’t even flinch when she splashed him with more water. Regina realized then she’d walked in on something. Not necessarily a fight, but something. She always knew Celia had an expiration date, and she hoped it was approaching.

“What are you doing here?” Cooper asked his sister. He wasn’t being rude, but there was an edge. She thought it had more to do with Celia than her.

“It’s summer,” Regina answered. She shrugged. “I like to read by the dock.”

“You’re so smart, Reggie,” Celia said. “Mama Douglas must be so proud.”

Regina could speak Celia’s language. She knew smart was code for not pretty. And both girls knew Josephine Douglas would prefer a daughter who looked like Celia. Celia, who could flow effortlessly from a string bikini to a debutante gown. She might be white trash, but she looked like a Southern Belle, and Regina hated it.

“I’ll just head back to the house,” Regina said.

“Ridiculous,” Cooper said, swinging his legs away from the water. “Celia was just leaving.”

“No, I wasn’t.” Celia looked straight at him, her stare so hot she was practically steaming. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Regina had definitely walked in on something, but she didn’t know what.

“Fine,” Cooper said, standing. “I’ll leave.”

He brushed past his sister and walked up the hill. Both girls stayed at the dock and watched him go.

Twenty-Two

Madison

This weekend was wonderful. Nothing extraordinary happened, but it felt like Coop and I were back in our groove. We spent time together in Whisper Falls Park, enjoying the ideal temperatures and colorful mountain views. Coop wasn’t preoccupied with work, and I wasn’t bothered by the insecure thoughts that have been plaguing my brain.

On Sunday night, Coop surprised me by announcing he’d arranged for me to join Josephine at the hair salon. Truthfully, I haven’t put much thought into my appearance since leaving Atlanta. At first, I was hesitant, seeing as I don’t know any hairstylists here, but I didn’t want to seem ungrateful. Besides, I’m feeling better about life in Whisper. Perhaps it’s time my outward appearance starts matching my new persona.

Josephine picks me up on Tuesday and we make the short drive to Inner Glow, a nail and hair salon sandwiched between a cash advance place and a consignment shop. From the outside, the place is forgettable; all the effort has been saved for the interior décor. The walls are hot pink, the doors are black and there is a collection of animal print rugs (zebra, cheetah and leopard) in front of each workstation. It’s like my fourteen-year-old self designed the place.

Josephine introduces me to my hairstylist. “This is Monica,” she says. “She’s the owner.”

Monica does a bizarre little skip while keeping her feet in place, like she can’t contain her excitement. I’m surprised to see she’s close to my age. She’s tall with long black hair that reaches the top of her jeans. In some ways, she reminds me of Regina, only it’s clear she puts in more effort.

“Madison,” I say, taking a seat and resting my bag on the small table to my left.

“So, Cooper Douglas. Quite a catch, huh?” Monica says. “I was beside myself when Josephine called saying his fiancée needed an appointment.”

“I’m happy you could work me in on such short notice.”

She flaps the apron over my chest, fastening it behind my shoulders. I feel her cool hand graze my neck as she untucks my hair. “Let me tell you, there’s not a better mother-in-law than Josephine Douglas. The woman is an absolute saint around here.”

“I’ve heard.” Staring in the mirror, I can see Josephine is leaned back, another technician preparing to wash her hair in the sink. “She’s been wonderful. Very generous and supportive.”

“Those two words exactly. She’s the one who gave me the loan to start this place. This will be my fifth year. I always wanted to do hair, but I never thought I’d be a business owner.”

“That’s great,” I say, feeling a twinge of pride. There’s at least a faction of Whisper who sees past the rumors, choosing to focus on the good. Josephine’s given a lot to this town, more than people give her credit for.

“So.” Monica takes a deep breath and pushes back her shoulders. “What are we doing today?”

“I definitely need a cut,” I say, staring back at my own reflection. Back in Atlanta, my hairstylist was Rodrigo. We’d been together so long, I never had to tell him what I needed. We’d built that unspoken rapport where he just knew. Of course, I’ve not seen him in over six months. I canceled our last appointment after I lost my job at theChronicle. Even now, after months without communication and a move to an entirely different state, it feels like I’m cheating on him.

“What about the color?” she asks, looking at my two-inch roots.

“Lighten it up.” I need to appear more put together. I don’t want anything too drastic because there’ll probably only be time for one more appointment before the wedding. “I’d like something a little softer.”

“Your natural color has come in a lot at the back.” She claws a clump of hair and lets it fall. “I could bring that out a little more. That’s a big look right now, you know. Bronde.”

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