Page 1 of An Uphill Battle

1

Azalea

“When’reyou gonna let me take you out?” Drake whispers huskily in myear.

“What?” I ask, unable to believe what I’mhearing.

“You heard me, Little Bit.” He’s standing so close behind me that I can feel the heat radiating from his body. “Me.You.”

He pauses, sweeping my long hair to one side so that it cascades over my right shoulder, exposing my neck. “Dinner.” He says the words against my skin, causing my entire body totremble.

I want so badly to say yes. To spin and face him and throw myself into his waiting arms. But I’m too scared, so I stand there, mute and unmoving. Because deep down, I know this isn’treal.

Deep down, I know I’m not thislucky.

Deep down, I know that the man I’ve loved since we were kids couldn’t possibly be here with me, asking me out. I mean, he’s had seven years to make his move—so whynow?

“Don’t ignore me, Azalea. I know you want this.” He presses his lips to my neck, peppering it with barely-there kisses. “I know you want me. You already know how good we are together, but we could be so much more. We could have everything. Say it, Bit. Say ‘yes.’”

His words echo in my mind—Say yes. Say yes. Say yes—and I brace myself to turn and face him. I’m gonna do this. I’m gonna say yes to the man of my dreams, and I’m going to claim the future I’ve imagined since I was thirteen yearsold.

But when I turn, he’s gone. I’m wholly and completely alone. One tear falls. Thenanother.

With a jolt, I wake from what’s both the best and worst dream I’ve ever had, my cheeks wet with tears. “Shoulda known it wasn’t real,” I tell myself sadly as I roll over to check the time. With my alarm set for eight, and seven forty-five flashing at me from the clock display, I may as well start myday.

Even though I’d love nothing more than to rewind back to the beginning of that dream and tell Dream-Drake off foronce againgetting my hopes up, I know that’s not possible. So, a steaming hot shower and a veggie omelet will have todo.

On my way out the door, my phone pings with an incoming text. I know from the notification sound that it’s my bestie and business partner, Myla Rose. She’s been my person since we met in third grade. We clicked instantly and never once lookedback.

Nestling into the buttery leather seat of my Z4, I slide my phone from my bag and read hertext.

Myla Rose:Do you worktoday?

Me:You know it, why? Bored on your maternityleave?

Myla Rose:Not even a little. But B-Man and I will be by this afternoon to look at myschedule.

Knowing that I’m going to see Myla and her sweet baby pushes the stupid Drake dream from my mind—mostly, like seventy-five percent of the way—and turns my frown one hundred percent upside down. There’s nothing sweet baby cuddles can’t fix. Seriously. Don’t believe me? Tryit.

Unfortunately, on the drive over to Southern Roots—the salon I own with Myla Rose—my dream creeps back to the forefront of my thoughts. My mind plays tricks on me, dangling my deepest desires right in front of my face, and I hate it. I especially hate the way I read into things with Drake that totally aren’t there. Sometimes, when we’re together, it truly feels like he wants more. He says all the right things, but only when we’re in bed—which is how I know he’s just caught up in the moment, and not inme.

I spend my time between my morning clients waffling between checking the time and obsessing over my stupid dream. Around three in the afternoon, I break for lunch, determined to put that man out of my mind because Lord knows, I already spend too much time thinking abouthim.

After scarfing down a blueberry scone at Dream Beans,I head back over to the salon, even though I’m technically done for the day, because there’s no way I’m missing out on some sweet baby snuggles. Like heat-seeking missiles, my eyes immediately land on Brody snuggled into the shoulder of our newest stylist. His chubby little face rests peacefully beneath hers, his little fingers grasping at the tips of her long, blonde hair. Five minutes pass, and then ten, and as sweet as Magnolia is, I kind of want to cut her for stealing so much of histime.

“Is it my turn to hold him yet?” I ask, practically green with envy as Magnolia strokes her fingers through his wispycurls.

“Maybe in a minute or two,” she answers in that small, soft voice of hers. She’s amazing at what she can do with color, but she has baggage for miles and is as skittish as a newbornfoal.

“Ugh!” I stomp my foot, causing her to flinch a little. “That’s what you said five minutes ago! Good Lord, don’t you have an appointment or something?” My words are harsh, but there’s no heat behind them. Magnolia’s so damn sweet, I can’t imagine anyone ever actually being cross withher.

Our receptionist, Seraphine, laughs. “And ten minutes again before that, baby hog. And to answer your question, AzzyJo, nope. Her next appointment isn’t untilfive.”

Brody lets out a soft sigh, and Magnolia follows suit, a small, somewhat smug smile painting her lips. “I can’t help it. He’s so sweet and snuggly, and he smells like a dream. Y’all just don’tknow.”

“You’re right,” I deadpan, “we don’t. Hand him over.” I walk to her, holding my arms out, and praise be, she places the bundle of joy in my arms. Things were on the verge of gettingugly.

Well, that’s a stretch, but I would’ve told Myla, that’s for sure. I hear the salon door chime, but I’m too busy loving on Little Man to pay a lick of attention, and plus, Myla Rose is up front straightening out her schedule for when she comes back to work, and she can greet anyone who walksin.

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