Page 26 of Fast Currents
“There. I think that’s even,” she pronounced, dusting hair from her fingers. “Why don’t you check it out in the bathroom; let me know if you want it shorter? I’ll sweep up here.” She gestured to the hair littering her kitchen floor.
I moved stiffly to the bathroom, aware of the tell-tale bulge in my jeans. Flicking on the light, I blinked. The man staring back at me was one I barely recognized. Gone were the chin-length waves I’d taken to tucking behind my ears. She’d brought me back to a style I hadn’t worn in years.
I looked eerily like my wedding photos.
The thought stopped me in my tracks.
I wasn’t that man anymore.
He’d been young. Naïve about the future. The man in the mirror now had subtle streaks of gray and a few lines around his eyes. He’d been hardened by life. By loss.
My therapist used to say that grief wouldn’t be something I could fix. It’d be something I’d carry. That it was part of loving deeply, to feel the hollowness in my bones. That the emptiness wasn’t a flaw in me, but a mark that what we had mattered.
And she was right.
Slowly, I’d learned to honor what Jen and I had and still believe in the possibility of more. To take what I’d learned about love, about listening, and about showing up for my partner and bring it forward. That wanting fun and finding joy again didn’t dishonor what I’d lost.
Confronting a version of the man I used to be, I saw the difference clearly now. Not younger, just lighter. Maybe even ready.
“Everything okay in there?” Lucy asked. “Did you spot anything I need to fix?”
Pushing away from the sink, I turned to find her watching me, her expression careful. “I feel like a new man.”
I chuckled, the sound rusty. My fingers rubbed the back of my neck, scraping over the short bristles of hair. “That’s probably why it feels so weird. I haven’t seen this version of myself in years.”
Her brow lifted in question, silent but curious.
“Last time I looked like this, I was standing next to Jen in our wedding photos,” I said quietly. “She liked it short.”
Lucy’s smile dimmed, just slightly. I could see her shifting into sympathy. I didn’t want that.
“Pretty sure this haircut just unlocked my final form. Thank you.”
Lucy lifted one shoulder. “It’s no problem.” She squinted, eyeing me. “This is a good look for you. Shows off your jawline.”
Puffing up my chest, I preened. “So youhavebeen looking.” I lifted one hand to my head, tightening the muscles in my arm, making them pop.
She rolled her eyes, her breath puffing out in a little sigh that disturbed the fine tendrils of dark hair near her forehead. “Don’t let it go to your head, Robertson.”
I glanced down at my crotch, bulge still apparent. “How about to my dick?”
She groaned, steadily keeping her chin steady, gaze well above my waist. “You’reimpossible.”
Her gaze twitched down, just for a second. Widened slightly.Busted.
My grin threatened to crack my face. “No, Lucifer, I’m verypossible. Anytime. Just let me know.”
That was meant to be the end of the joke. Just another tease. But then she stilled.
She was quiet a beat too long. Her breathing shallowed. I froze. Her gaze flickered to my mouth. Then she said it – casual, offhand, like she wasn’t changing my world.
“Now’s good.”
“Wh-at?”
My question came out in a strangled grunt, my voice cracking on the last syllable.
Her shoulders relaxed, her whole body softening with amusement. She wrinkled her nose, eyes crinkling at the corners as her lips curved – just enough to make it clear she was enjoying watching me short-circuit.
