22. Bridgette
Bridgette
“ W hat are you thinking about the length?” I ask, running my hands through JT Norris’s dark hair. He likes to keep it pretty short, but he’s been so busy with school, and hockey, and his family, that it’s been a while since he’s been in.
“Maggie likes it,” he says, smiling at me through the mirror. “But it’s starting to get in my eyes, and that bugs the hell out of me.”
“I’ll shape it up, but I won’t take it too short. You can let me know if you like it, or if you want me to take a little more length off the top.
“Sounds good,” JT says.
We fall into a companionable silence. He’s scrolling through his phone and I’m busy with the clippers.
Once I’m finished with that part, I reach for my scissors.
Some clients want to get lost in a book or TV show, while others want to tell me their life story.
I’ve known JT since he started at BU with Bran two years ago, so we don’t need to make idle chit chat.
Still, every time I check the mirror for an angle, I swear he’s about to start talking.
He stays quiet, though, until the final reveal.
“This is awesome, Birdie. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. You should bring Calla with you next time. I haven’t had my fix of baby snuggles in way too long.” At the mention of his daughter, his face lights up. “Anytime you want to babysit, you just let me know. You’ll get all the slobbery baby kisses you can handle.”
“I will definitely take you up on that. I’ve got my schedule for next week already, so I’ll text Maggie and we’ll pick a time,” I say, unfastening his cape and dusting off the stubborn hairs that are clinging to his neck.
JT stands and stretches, pulling his phone out of his pocket to cashapp me the money for his cut.
I’ve told him I’m happy to do it for free, but he insists.
He offers me a hug, and I take it, but when I pull back, he’s staring at me. I’m about to ask him if there’s something in my teeth or if my eye makeup is smudged, but he opens his mouth before I can open mine.
“I’m supposed to report back and let him know how you’re doing,” he says with a wry smile.
I sigh. There’s no need for him to clarify who ‘he’ is. We both know it’s my stubborn brother. “He could just come and see for himself,” I say. “He’s overdue for a trim and with all those cowlicks, his hair’s going to start looking wild.”
JT nods and heads for the door. “Just give him a little more time, okay? I promise he’ll come around. And if he doesn’t, I’ll kick his ass.”
I’m about to kick it myself. It’s been a week now, and Bran’s still freezing me out.
No one’s gotten punched in the last seven days, so that’s an improvement.
I can’t spend too much time thinking about the rift between us, though, because I’ve got another client in thirty minutes and I don’t want to greet Mrs. Fairfax with red-rimmed eyes.
Once I clean my station, I’ve got enough time to check my phone.
Dutton usually messages me after his classes are done for the day, but the lone message on my phone isn’t from my boyfriend.
It’s from my cousin, reminding me about the final fitting for my bridesmaid dress.
It’s two days from now, and even though it’s on my calendar and I have the time off work, I think I mentally blocked it out.
Ugh. The fitting will be stressful enough, but what will be worse is the wedding, especially since Bran and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms. One thing that would make it infinitely more tolerable would be having Dutton by my side.
That might piss my brother off, but I can’t hide Dutton forever.
And I’m not going to pretend he doesn’t exist every time I have a family function.
Before I have time to second-guess myself, I start to type out a message.
Bridgette: I have a question…
Dutton : I’m ready.
Bridgette: So, we’re dating…
Dutton : Damn right.
Bridgette : And we’re pretty serious?
Dutton : Jesus. Yes.
Dutton : What’s with the questions? I damn near broke your brother’s nose. That’s serious.
Dutton : Hold up. Are you pregnant? Or are you trying to break up with me?
Bridgette : Neither! I’m trying to ask you to a wedding.
Dutton : Count me in. The season ends in April. Are you thinking spring? Or do you want a summer wedding? The beach would be nice.
Bridgette : Oh my god. Not our wedding.
Dutton: Are you sure? Ollie swears by married life. (Not that I talk to Ollie or am friends with him. I don't do friends. But he's pushy.)
Bridgette: My horrible cousin is getting married and I need a date.
Bridgette: Not just any date. You. I need you. It's two weeks from Sunday and you don’t have a game.
Dutton : Looking forward to meeting your horrible relatives. I can't promise I won't throw any more punches.
Dutton : Kidding. Mostly.