Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Eva
It’s been three days, and I’m still smiling like a complete fool.
I lean against the counter at the salon, the soft hum of the diffuser filling the room with lavender and eucalyptus.
The sun filters through the front windows in streaks of gold, warming the space around me, and for once, I’m not stressing over orders, deadlines, or social media posts. I’m just... content.
A rare kind of peace has settled in me. The kind that feels earned.
I check the time on the wall. I have no client at this moment. Normally, I’d be anxious, mentally running through the rest of my to-do list, but right now? I don’t mind. It gives me a few minutes to think about him.
Esteban.
God, even just saying his name in my head sends a flutter through my chest.
Every night since we got back, I’ve gone to his place after work and he cooks for me.
He made arroz con pollo the first night, and I swear I almost cried.
After dinner, we cuddle up on his couch with some random movie playing in the background that neither of us actually watches.
We talk, we laugh, we make out like we’re in high school, we also make love and I fall asleep in his arms every time.
No one has ever made me feel the way Esteban does: safe, wanted, sexy, all at once.
It’s not just the sex, although yeah, the sex is out-of-this-world amazing.
It’s him. His patience. His hands always knowing just how to hold me.
The way he always listens, really listens.
The way he tucks my hair behind my ear before he kisses me like he’s waited all day for that moment.
I think I’m in love with him.
Who am I kidding? I know I am.
Biting my lip, I glance toward the door, a little nervous flutter kicking in. Today’s the day I’m going to tell him he doesn’t have to wait anymore. He can talk to Noah and tell him everything.
Because why should we hide?
I don’t even remember why I asked him to wait in the first place. Maybe it was fear of Noah getting weird or territorial, of things getting messy. But the truth is, my brother’s going to have to get over it. I love Noah, but I’m not asking for permission to live my life.
Esteban and I are real. We’re good. And I’m not going to let anyone, not even my brother, make me second-guess what we have.
Tonight, I’ll tell him.
And I know, without a single doubt, that he’ll smile that slow, heart-melting smile of his, pull me into his arms, and say, “It’s about time, mi amor.”
Because with him, it always feels like the right time.
The little bell above the door jingles, pulling me out of my thoughts as a new client finally arrives.
My smile falters for just a second when I realize who’s stepped in.
Megan Hoover.
I haven’t seen her in years, not since I left for college if I’m being honest. She was already a few years ahead of me back then she was Honey Springs royalty, the mayor’s daughter; always poised, always polished. The kind of girl who seemed untouchable, wrapped in a perfect pink bow.
A few weeks ago, Mrs. Mirtha and Mrs. Henrietta came into the salon and spent a good half hour talking about Megan.
How she’d moved back into her parents’ house after some big heartbreak and how people were whispering about the mess she’d gotten herself into with a married man.
I didn’t say much, just listened, nodding here and there, but part of me wondered what it was like to have your pain dissected like that, passed around town like cheap candy.
And here she is now, wrapped in a literal pink dress that flows softly around her knees. Her hair is pulled back in a low ponytail, her face bare except for a touch of lip balm, and there's something tired in her eyes. Like she's been carrying too much for too long.
“Megan,” I say, my voice light, bright. “Hi! It’s so good to see you.”
“Hi, Eva.” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Thanks for squeezing me in.”
“Of course. Come on in. Have a seat.”
She settles into the treatment chair, and I take a moment to study her face, still stunning, even without makeup. But the circles under her eyes are deep and shadowed, her skin a little dull. She looks worn down.
I keep my voice soft. “So, what brings you in today?”
“I need help,” she says with a little laugh, then gestures to her face. “A whole reset, honestly. My skincare routine is nonexistent right now. And these—” she touches the delicate skin beneath her eyes “—need serious help. I’ve been crying a lot.”
That admission takes me by surprise.
“Oh,” I say, gently. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
She waves a hand, brushing it off. “I’m okay now. I think. I just... I need to start feeling like myself again. Or maybe a new version of myself. Something.”
I nod and start going through the questions, what products she’s used in the past, skin type, allergies. She answers everything patiently, and even smiles a little as we chat. She’s kind. Softer than I remember.
Once we go through everything, I start lining up a few product samples on the counter.
“Okay, so for the under-eye circles, I’d recommend this one.
It’s got caffeine, vitamin C, and peptides.
It’s gentle but effective. And this moisturizer is great for sensitive skin.
It’ll help with hydration and barrier repair. We’ll add a brightening serum too.”
She looks at the little line-up of bottles and jars and exhales slowly. “Thank you, Eva. This already helps more than you know.”
I pause, watching her carefully. “Are you okay?”
She stiffens slightly at the question, blinking fast like she wasn’t expecting anyone to actually ask. Then, her lips part and the words spill out, low and raw.
“I made a mistake,” she whispers. “A horrible one. I fell in love with a married man.”
I freeze, unsure how to respond, but she keeps going.
“He told me he was separated. That he and his wife were finalizing the divorce. He made it all sound so real. Told me he wanted to start a life with me… even asked me to move in with him.” She laughs bitterly.
“And I did. Like a fool. And then, just like that, he took her back. No warning. No explanation. Just—‘it’s over.’”
Her voice cracks, and she shakes her head. “I came back here because I didn’t know where else to go. And now the town won’t stop whispering. People think I’m this... home-wrecker. But I didn’t know. I didn’t mean for any of it.”
My heart squeezes for her. “Megan,” I say softly, “I’m so sorry.”
She wipes under her eyes quickly, trying to pull herself together. “It was my first time really falling in love, you know? And it blew up in my face.”
I reach out and gently touch her hand. “You didn’t deserve that. He lied. That’s not on you. And you will be okay, I promise. There’s someone out there who’s going to love you right. No lies. No games. Just real.”
She stares at me for a second, like she’s searching for something, maybe judgment, maybe pity but she finds neither. Just understanding.
“Thank you,” she says, her voice small. “I really needed that.”
She stands, gathering the samples I gave her and her small purse. “You’re really sweet, Eva. I get why everyone likes you.”
I smile. “Anytime, Megan. Really.”
She gives me one last look—grateful, maybe a little embarrassed—and walks out.
A few minutes later, Ashton walks in from the back, his eyebrows raised. “Everything okay? That looked intense.”
I nod, glancing at the closed door. “Yeah. People misjudge her. She’s a nice person. Just... had her heart broken.”
Ashton leans against the counter, watching me carefully. “You’re good at this, you know?”
I smile softly to myself, already thinking of Esteban and how lucky I am. “Yeah. Sometimes people just need someone to see them. Really see them.”
“That’s very true,” Ashton says just as I’m putting the last of the samples away. He walks away to keep working on his client while I stay busy organizing my area.
The door chimes again. This time, my smile isn’t just automatic, it’s instinctive.
Esteban steps in, still dressed in his work clothes.
There’s a fine layer of dust on his shirt and pants, and his boots track in a few specks of dirt from outside.
His hair’s a little messy, sticking out from where his cap had been, and there’s a smudge of something that looks to be paint on his forearm.
And still, somehow, he looks ridiculously good.
How does he do that? How can someone look this good every day, at every hour, even covered in dust?
“Hey, mi amor,” he says with a grin, walking toward me. “You busy?”
“Not anymore,” I say, stepping out from behind the counter, heart already doing that fluttery thing it does every time he shows up. “What’s up?”
“I was wondering if I could steal you for a late lunch.” He leans in a little, lowering his voice like it’s a secret between us. “I’m starving, and I need something sweet. Preferably one of Josy’s cookies.”
I laugh. “So I’m a bonus, and the cookie is the real goal?”
He grins wider. “You’re the main course, hermosa. Cookie’s just dessert.”
I roll my eyes, blushing like a teenager. “Let me grab my keys.”
We walk out together, and the moment the door shuts behind us, I feel lighter.
This, being with him, stealing time between the cracks of our busy lives, is the highlight of my days lately.
We walk across the street, and a few minutes later we’re at Josy’s Coffee Shop. The smell of espresso and freshly baked cookies hits us the second we walk in, and Esteban lets out a low hum of satisfaction.
“She’s got the good batch today,” he says, already eyeing the display case.
“You say that every time.”
“And I’m always right.” He shrugs.
As we settle into a corner table, I watch him grab two cookies and bring over our drinks. He’s chatting with the barista like he knows everyone, and of course he does. This is our town, our people.
And for the first time since I move back, I feel like I belong here too.