Three #3
I spat into the sink and rinsed before wiping my mouth on a towel. “It’s a look. Why, what do you think I should do with my hair?”
She scrunched her face in thought, knitted her brows together even tighter and blinked. “Crouch down.”
With a smirk, I humored her and dropped to a crouch in front of the mirror.
I could still see my face—barely. She came to stand behind me, opened the top drawer to her left and pulled out a wide-toothed white comb.
“You have curly hair like me. So we only use these pick comb things. That’s the rule.
That’s what Brooke says.” She carefully ran the comb through my hair from my hairline to the nape of my neck.
It actually felt pretty good. “You have some gel or mousse or something?”
Nodding, I opened the bottom drawer that Clint had cleared out and said was mine. Since I didn’t have much to my name, only my toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, bodywash and pomade sat in the drawer. I grabbed the pomade and handed her the jar. “This stuff isn’t cheap, so don’t go nuts.”
She unscrewed the lip and scooped a dollop of the blue goop out with her little index finger.
Then, like a professional hairdresser, she rubbed it between her hands, coating her fingers, before dragging her fingers through my hair from the front, to the back, and styling it.
I was actually in serious shock. The kid wasn’t messing around.
“I like it when Daddy has a little twirly thing drop over his forehead, like this,” she said, twisting a lock of my hair around her finger and tugging it over my forehead. “Brooke says it’s ‘hot’.”
I snorted. “I’ve seen your dad with the forehead lock.”
She grabbed the comb and did a bit more magic, then stepped back and gave a firm nod. “There. Much better. Messy, but nice messy.”
“Nice messy is what we’re going for.” I held my hand up, and she gave me a high-five. “Thanks, Talia.”
Standing up to my full height again, I grabbed the deodorant from the drawer and added more to my pits. I was ninety-nine percent sure I’d already done this, but you can never be too careful.
“Brooke says you’re going on a date with Renée. I like Renée.”
“Me too.” I stashed my stuff back in the drawer and checked my phone. It was a quarter to six. I needed to get going.
She followed me downstairs, where Brooke and Clint were busy finishing up dinner in the kitchen.
“Doesn’t his hair look better?” Talia asked, the gold flecks in her blue eyes sparkling. “I gave him the forehead twirl like you, Daddy. The one Brooke says is ‘hot’.” She plunked her hands on her hips and lifted her chin in pride.
Brooke snorted from where she was busy setting the table. “I approve of the forehead twirl. I actually think you look very nice, Logan.”
“And he put on extra deodorant, so he doesn’t smell,” Talia added.
My cheeks grew hot.
Dammit.
“Always a good idea to avoid stinking,” Clint added, taking a pot off the burner on the stove and bringing it over to the table to set on a hot pad. “Have fun on your date.”
The way they all looked at me, with hope and interest was not just heartwarming, but it also eased the tension wound tight around my ribcage.
Even when I was a teenager going on dates, my parents never really expressed any interest in my social life.
They never cared to meet my girlfriends, nor offered me advice.
They never wished me good luck, or told me to have a good time.
It felt good to know there were people at home who cared whether or not I had a nice date. Who cared whether or not I was happy.
Seeing their smiles only reconfirmed my choice to move out west and reconnect with this side of the family. This was the kind of family I craved growing up. This was the kind of family I wanted for myself.
I slid into my Blundstones and donned my rain jacket. Talia saw me to the door. “Make sure you tell Renée I did your hair for you,” she said as I opened the door. “She’ll want to know.”
I caught Clint and Brooke’s eyes as I glanced up at them for a moment. They each held veiled amused expressions.
I focused back on Talia. “Of course I will.” Then I gave her a quick wink and was out the door and climbing into Chloe’s black sedan.
“Let’s do this,” I said, turning on the ignition. I connected to the Bluetooth in her car, and cranked my “get pumped” mix, starting with Queen’s We are the Champions.
Then I was off.
I was twenty-four years old, had had plenty of girlfriends, and partners over the years, but for some reason, I’d never been nervous until now.
Something about Renée just felt … different.
I’d never pictured a future with any of my other girlfriends before.
Nothing beyond a few months. But with Renée I could literally, vividly see us sitting on a veranda porch swing, hands intertwined as we watched our grandchildren run around the grass below.
I saw a life with Renée, and it was one I really wanted.
I just hoped she wanted something like that too.
And that neither of us freaked out and called it quits before we gave what could be an amazing relationship, a real, honest try.