24. Chapter 24
Cate
Present
“You never told me about that,” Amy said, her voice quieter now. Not accusing, just… stunned.
I shook my head as a woman walked past carrying a bouquet wrapped in brown paper. “I never saw the point,” I said. “It wouldn’t have changed anything. It would’ve just made things messier.”
Amy studied me for a moment, then nodded. “You were probably right.”
She clapped her hands together lightly, like she was closing a file. “Come on. Let’s get this done.”
The salon smelled like citrus shampoo and hot tools. Warm, bright, and safe. The kind of place where people confessed things without meaning to, because mirrors made honesty harder to dodge.
Amy had called ahead and convinced them to move our appointments up.
I settled into the chair as the stylist draped a cape around my shoulders, the fabric snapping softly against my collarbone. Amy took the chair beside me, already scrolling through her phone, excitement returning like it always did when there was something to do.
As the stylist worked her fingers through my hair, lifting and separating, I closed my eyes.
Talking about John had helped. More than I wanted to admit.
It didn’t fix anything, but it loosened something inside me. Reminded me that what we had was real. That I hadn’t imagined it. Wherever he was… he had loved me once.
That had to be enough.
Trevor loved me now.
The stylist guided me back toward the sink, warm water flooding my scalp, her hands methodical and confident. I let myself relax into it, the way you do when someone else takes over and you don’t have to decide anything.
She wrapped a towel around my hair and patted it dry. “So,” she said gently, “do you know how you’d like it styled?”
I opened my eyes and met my own gaze in the mirror - bare, damp, and undecided.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Something simple, maybe.”
Simple felt safe. Invisible. Like I could disappear into the day and let it pass over me.
Amy hesitated, then straightened like she’d made a decision.
“No,” she said immediately, arms folding across her chest. “Absolutely not.”
I sighed. “Amy…”
“You can’t just do something simple, Cate. Trevor’s family will never approve,” she continued, undeterred. “His mother will have a coronary.”
I pressed my lips together. Apparently, I wasn’t just marrying Trevor. I was marrying his family’s expectations. Traditions. A standard I hadn’t agreed to but was expected to meet anyway.
“Well then,” I said carefully, “what do you think?”
Her face lit up, delighted by the invitation. “Up,” she said instantly. “Elegant. With a few loose tendrils. Soft curls. Romantic but polished.”
The stylist smiled and began blow drying my hair. Once dry, she curled it, then carefully gathered it up, twisting and pinning it loosely. She angled the mirror so I could see.
I tilted my head, studying the woman looking back at me.
She looked… composed. Finished. Like someone who knew exactly where she was going.
“I don’t know,” I said softly.
The stylist released the pins and let my hair fall free again, dark waves settling over my shoulders. “It really depends on the dress,” she said. “What’s it like?”
“It’s full length,” Amy began. “Spaghetti straps and…”
“Amy,” I said gently, reaching for her hand. I reminded myself to breathe. “I can do this.”
She hesitated, then nodded, squeezing my fingers once. “Okay. I just want it to be perfect.”
So did I.
I just wasn’t sure whose definition of perfect we were chasing anymore.