Chapter 35
CHAPTER 35
NORA
“ H ow does it feel to be off your leash?” Scarlet asks.
I raise my brows and shoot her an unimpressed glare.
“Really?”
She sighs.
“Yeah, that was bitchy. Sorry. Sometimes my brain to mouth filter doesn't work.”
“Sometimes?”
She flicks on her blinker and shrugs. “Fine, most of the time.”
“Sooo, what exactly are we doing?” I speak slowly, trying my hardest to keep my voice neutral—to not let my fear bleed through. When we initially made our plans, I was excited. But in the two weeks that have passed since, my nerves have gotten the better of me, and now I’m an anxious mess.
I'm safe with Scarlet. Atlas wouldn't have agreed to this otherwise. But it's hard to get my brain on the same page, especially when this is my first outing without him at my side.
Maggie says this is a good first step to regaining my independence though, so I've just gotta power through it. Even if it makes my skin crawl.
“I'm guessing you don't like surprises, huh?” Scarlet glances at me and then back to the road.
“You could say that,” I reply, knowing she doesn't really mean anything by it. Scarlet's just... Scarlet . She's brash and outspoken and definitely doesn't think before she speaks. But in the grand scheme of things, she's harmless. A total b-word, but harmless.
“Okay, fine, I'll tell you.” She pauses, giving my brain ample time to come up with every possible worst-case scenario. “We're starting at the salon; I'm guessing it's been a long time since you've had a haircut. Then we're getting mani-pedis, followed by lunch. You don't have any food allergies, right?”
“Nope, none.”
“Great. I figured we could go to The Smoke Shack. It’s nothing fancy, but their ribs are to die for.”
“If you say so,” I murmur, drumming my fingertips against my thighs as I work through one of Maggie’s many exercises to keep me calm.
I screw my eyes shut and start counting. Inhale… one… exhale. Inhale… two… exhale. By the time I make it to ten, my heart rate is almost normal and my hands are steady, well steady-ish, anyway.
“So, how long has it been?” she asks, parking in front of what looks like some kind of fancy spa that's way outside of my budget.
Well, my pre-Atlas budget.
The man spares no expense, regardless of how awkward it makes me feel.
He’s big on taking care of what’s his—and even though it’s a little caveman of him, it also feels kind of good to be…
taken care of.
“Um...” I gnaw on my bottom lip as I run the numbers.
“I think my last real haircut was when I was fifteen or sixteen. Before Mom got really sick.”
I dare a glance toward Scarlet, expecting to see pity shining in her gaze.
But I don't. Instead, I see her eyes wide and her lips curled in a look of mild horror. “Holy. Shit. Nora. Your split ends probably have split ends.”
Something about her unexpected shock sends me into a fit of laughter. What utterly different lives we've led.
“Haircuts are inconsequential when you're trying to survive.”
She scoffs and throws open her door. “Okay, Daisy-Downer. Let's go get you checked in.”
With only a little reluctance, I follow after her.
The inside of the salon is every bit as nice as the outside. Nicer even—it’s all gleaming white marble mixed with ashy woods and matte gold finishes; it's a modern marvel unlike anything I’ve ever seen.
“Welcome to Bliss,” a melodic voice says, drawing my attention to the front desk. The woman seated behind it is the living embodiment of ethereal grace, with her pale skin, blood-red lips, and nearly white hair. “How can we make you feel beautiful today?”
I shoot Scarlet an apprehensive look, because I don't have a clue. Luckily, she takes the lead.
“I have a ten o'clock with Rochelle and Nora here is booked for the same time with Mira.”
“Great, let me get you both checked in.” She clicks around on the computer for a few seconds. “Oh, and I see you’re both booked for nails after. Perf. Your stylists should be ready shortly. In the meantime, would either of you like anything to drink while you wait?”
I shake my head no, right as Scarlet says, “A mimosa would be great.” She tips her head toward me. “And my friend here will take a water.”
It's stupid, so absurdly stupid, but something inside me warms at hearing her call me her friend.
For years, my entire world was narrowed to only one person.
.. no, not a person; a monster.
But now, I have three people in my life that I care about and that care about me.
Four, really, if I count my jellybean.
Although, if I'm being honest, the latter is the most important, because this baby gave me the push I needed to escape the hell I had all but resigned myself to.
My son may have been conceived through horrific circumstances, but he... he saved me, too.
“Do you know how you want it cut?” Scarlet asks, drawing me out of my thoughts.
“Um.” I flex my fingers in my lap. “What do you think?”
Scarlet regards me carefully. “Well, I think you're so used to deferring to other people that you have no idea what you want.”
I swallow roughly as tears burn the back of my eyes. Do not cry, do not cry, do not cry. I repeat the words like a mantra to myself, over and over. Scarlet clearly already thinks I'm pathetic—the last thing I need to do is break down in the middle of this fancy spa and prove her right.
But my best efforts aren’t enough and a sniffle breaks free, alerting Scarlet to my distress.
“Hey, Nora, whoa. Clearly that came out wrong.” She reaches for me and, instinctively, I flinch away from her touch. “Jesus Christ, I'm fucking this up left and right. Atlas is never going to let me take you anywhere ever again at this rate.”
“I'm sorry,” I whisper.
“No, don't be. I guess decision making isn't something you're used to anymore. But, babe, it's time to reclaim that shit. You are free. You are your own boss. You're a fucking queen. Own that shit.”
“I know. Kind of. At least, I want to... you know... own my shit.” I whisper the last word, my cheeks burning. “But I wouldn't be opposed to some guidance.”
Scarlet rubs her hands together in a way that should probably worry me. “Well, I'd say you could stand to lose like five or so inches. Your hair is long and will still be long.”
I run my fingers through the ends. She's right. My hair is long, and I have absolutely no idea how to style it. Mama bought me a flat iron when I was in middle school, but outside of that, I'm clueless.
“Okay, that sounds good.”
“How do you feel about color?”
My no is both instant and emphatic. “My dad... his hair was the same color as mine. It's probably stupid, but it's all I have left of him now.”
“No color, got it.” She claps her hands together. “A gloss then. It will just make it, like, really shiny.”
Before I can reply, two women step into the waiting room. “Scarlet, Nora, we're ready for y'all.”
I once again let Scarlet take the lead as she warmly greets both women, before relaying to one of them what I want. Here's to hoping she knows her stuff...
Ninety minutes later, I'm a well-styled puddle of goo. Seriously, I’m pretty sure my stylist has magic fingers or something.
“Wow,” I whisper, for probably the hundredth time as I run my fingers through my perfectly waved hair. It's seriously perfect. Bouncy and healthy and shiny and... yeah, perfect.
“If you liked that, you'll love a pedicure,” Scarlet says, grinning at me. “Now let's go pick our colors.”
“What are you getting?” I ask, my heart already racing at the multitude of choices laid before me, in neat and tidy rainbow order. Bottle after bottle, as far as the eye can see, and I’m somehow supposed to narrow it down to one.
“Something bright and bold.” She taps her index finger against her bottom lip. “Oh, this one!” She grabs a polish that I can only describe as neon red. It's pretty, if a little loud. Perfect for Scarlet.
“Hmm.” I scan the wall until the colors all start to blend together before finally settling on a soft pearlescent blue. It's understated but pretty. Safe, but with a little sparkle, too.
“Oh, that's cute,” Scarlet murmurs as she guides me over to the pedicure chairs. “Have you ever done this before?”
I smile, as a bittersweet warmth fills my chest. “A few times with my mom before...” I swallow roughly but push through. The past is just that, and I have to learn to be able to talk about it. I have to own my trauma so it doesn’t own me. “Before she met R-Rand.” I hate the way I struggle to say his name, like it somehow will summon him to me.
When I readHarry Potteras a kid, I always thought it was so stupid how everyone was scared to say Voldemort's name. But now, I get it. There is a power in a name, and whether I like it or not, his still holds power over me.
But the stronger I grow, the weaker his hold on me becomes, and one day, he'll be nothing more than a bad memory. A really freaking awful memory.
“How in the hell did Atlas come from a man like that?” Scarlet says, snapping me back into the present.
“I ask myself that all the time. He's such a good man, and his dad is, well, evil.”
“It was really bad?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. “I mean, I saw how you looked, you know, but like...”
I sigh as a maelstrom of emotions race through me, before offering her a wobbly smile so she knows I'm not mad. After all, it's human nature to be curious, even when it’s morbid. Or maybe especially when.
“Yeah, it was bad. Really bad.” So bad I’m not sure how to discuss it conversationally while sitting in a massage chair with my feet in warm, bubbling water. “I still, um, have nightmares. But Atlas, he helps.” I lower my eyes to my lap in an effort to hide my flaming cheeks—I bet they’re just about the same color as the nail polish she picked. I mean, I'm talking to her about her ex, who I'm currently dating. Talk about awkward. Then again, nothing about my life has been very orthodox, so why start now?
“It's fine, you know,” she says, reaching over and laying her hand over the top of mine. By some miracle, instead of flinching, I find comfort in her touch.
“What is?”
“You and Atlas.” She flits her eyes toward the ceiling and laughs under her breath before focusing back on me. “Don't get me wrong, I was mad at first, but real talk, he and I weren't all that serious, and the two of you are clearly meant to be together. I may be a bitch, but I'm not a raging bitch. I'd never stand in the way of true love.”
“True love?” Butterflies take flight within me, their wings flapping wildly in my belly. “You really think so?”
“Girl.” Scarlet draws out the word. “That man would burn the whole world to the ground to save you. So, yeah, true love.”
She sounds almost wistful as she says it, and I can't help but wonder if she's ever been in love. But before I can ask, my nail technician drops down onto the stool in front of me, effectively stealing all of my attention.
“Are you still cool with The Smoke Shack for lunch?” Scarlet asks once we're back in her car. “It's a little out of the way, so if you're hungry, we can go somewhere closer.”
I shrug. “I'm good with anything.” It's not like I'm going to make a fuss when she's doing all of this for me. As sad as it sounds, I'm just happy to be along for the ride.
“Okay then, buckle up and let's go.”
Scarlet cranks the radio and belts the lyrics at the top of her lungs, while I stare at her in wonder. How she manages to keep us on the road while singing and dancing like she’s on stage is beyond me. I still hate driving—and I still suck at it, too.
“So, what gives?” she asks, when she mimes holding the mic my way and I shake my head. “Are you shy, or just a shower singer?”
“I don’t… I don’t know any of these.” I slide my hands under my thighs to keep from fidgeting.
“Like, none of them?” Her eyes bug and her glossy lips make a perfect ‘O.’ Scarlet quickly schools her features, but I saw all I needed to—this is just one more way I’m an oddball.
For a split second, I worry she’s going to laugh at me, but instead, she turns it into a game, where she plays a song and asks if I know it or not. I do pretty good with the older pop, awful with any and everything new, and absolutely kill it with the older rock my dad always listened to.
“Well, that was fun, but are you ready for the best bar-b-que of your life?” Scarlet asks as she whips the car into a parking space, sending gravel dust into the air all around us.
“I guess.” My heart is still thumping hard against my breastbone. Where Atlas is safe and steady, Scarlet drives like a madwoman. Polar opposites.
“Oh, ye of little faith.” She cuts the engine. “You'll see. C'mon.”
I unbuckle my seat belt and open my door, only to instantly be surrounded by the mouthwatering aroma of smoked meats.
“Look at you.” She laughs, nudging me with her elbow. “We're not even through the door and your mouth's watering.”
I don't bother replying, because she's right. It smells amazing, like when I was little and my dad would barbecue for Labor Day. If it tastes even half as good as it smells, this might just become my newest pregnancy craving.
The outside of the building—smell notwithstanding—is nondescript, but the inside is like stepping back in time. String lights dangle overhead and vintage mementos and memorabilia line the wide-plank wooden walls. None of the tables and chairs match, but somehow, it works.
“Do you trust me?” Scarlet asks, quirking a brow.
“Um.” Talk about a loaded question, but strangely enough… “Yes, I do.” Saying the words feels as weird as thinking them, but it feels good, too.
“‘Kay, great. Go make us drinks, Diet Coke for me, and then grab us a table while I order.”
God, she’s bossy. But it works for me; it took me a small eternity to choose a nail polish, so I can only imagine how long it’d take me to navigate the menu and make a decision. The thing is written on a giant chalkboard that takes up almost an entire wall.
After making our drinks and finding us a table near the door, I slide my phone out of my purse and check my notifications. Two texts from Atlas.
Atlas
You having fun, Pip?
Atlas
I told myself I’d let you enjoy your day and not hover and I meant it, but damn, I miss you. Check in with me, yeah? Love you.
My cheeks warm and something low in my belly flutters as I read his messages. He’s totally overbearing and protective and I kind of love it.
I snap a pic of my nails and add it to our text thread.
Me
Surprisingly, I *AM* having fun. We’re getting lunch now. Love you, too.
Atlas
Pretty, Pip. Let me guess… ribs?
Me
How did you know?
Atlas
Scarlet is nothing if not predictable.
Me
That’s not the word I’d use…
A thread of discomfort tries to weave its way through me, but I promptly shake it off. Atlas has proved over and over just how dedicated he is to not only me, but my— our —baby, too.
Atlas
Yeah, LOL. I can think of a few others. You ever watched The Sound of Music as a kid?
Where in the heck is he going with this?
Me
Yeah… My mom loved that movie.
Atlas
That one song the nuns all sing about the nanny…
“What’s so funny?” Scarlet asks, placing an overflowing tray down on the table between us.
“Nothing!” I quickly text Atlas back, telling him our food is here. “There’s no way we can eat all of this.”
“Speak for yourself,” Scarlet scoffs before slapping a paper plate down in front of me. “I got all of my favorites, plus some extra, that way we can figure out what you like.”
It’s totally overkill, but I’m also touched. From start to finish, she’s put so much thought into our day out together. If this is what it’s like having a friend, then I’m so totally down.
“You said the ribs, right?” I ask, grabbing a few for my plate.
“Yup. And the potato salad is insane.”
We both fill our plates with a little bit of everything. My mouth waters as I taste my first bite of the fall-off-the-bone ribs. I can’t help the happy little moan that slips past my lips. This is definitely my new pregnancy craving. I can feel it.
Scarlet chuckles. “Told you.”
I smile at her, a sense of contentment like I’ve never known before washes over me. “Yup. One hundred percent right—but don’t let it go to your head.”
She taps her temple twice. “Too late.”
A bubbling laugh escapes me, which makes Scarlet giggle, and before I know it, we’re both cackling like hyenas, with barbecue sauce all over our faces.
I know I’m an absolute mess, but I can’t find it in me to care. Because you’re happy, a little voice in the back of my mind whispers, causing me to freeze.
“You good?” Scarlet asks.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “I really, really am.” I mean it, too. It’s like everything is finally falling into place. Like my life is finally mine. It’s a rush, and a little nerve-racking, but I love it and I can’t wait to see what else the future has in store for me.
“Okay, wow.” Scarlet wipes her mouth and then leans back against her side of the booth. “Are you as stuffed as I am?”
I pat my rounded belly. “More.”
She laughs before leaning forward and passing me a napkin. “Wipe your face up and let’s take a selfie before we head out.”
I clean off my face and then we lean in together over the table, crushing our cheeks together for a few silly shots.
“Send those to me while I throw our trash away?” I ask, gathering everything and stacking it back on the tray.
“You got it.”