ELLIE
“How long can you stay for?” Mike says.
We’re in bed, the morning after the night before, his forehead resting on mine. He’s still inside me, the heaviness of his body, relaxing into mine in a post-orgasm fog that keeps me clinging onto him.
“I’ll probably need to go back tonight. I can start at Megan’s tomorrow,” I mumble.
“Can’t you stay another night?” His mouth finds my neck, dotting kisses along the sensitive ridge that has me squirming under him.
“I wish I could, but I’m losing income. I can’t afford to miss any more appointments, and I’ve got regulars waiting for me to fit them in. I hate letting people down.”
“I know.”
“Mike…”
“Sorry, I—” He rocks his hips, and oh … my, God. I was half-expecting him to soften, but he’s hard still, making me buck against him, needy and desperate for more.
“Mike…” I say again, a breathy exhale this time.
But he rolls off me, leaving me with an emptiness—and not just from his physical absence.
“I’m worried,” he says, adjusting himself under the covers; probably removing the condom.
“About?”
“Us, I guess. I mean, your life’s there … mine’s here … and I know it’s not far-far, but it still feels—” He shakes his head. “Actually, we can try our best, yeah? See each other when we can.” He rolls onto his side to face me. “Sorry, I know I’m being all needy and shit. ”
“You’re not. I get it. You need to be here and I … well, I guess, I can be wherever the work is. In theory.”
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Mike pulls the covers away and climbs out of bed. Except, instead of getting dressed, he reaches for a pillow and covers his crotch before he opens the door, blocking the view so whoever’s on the other side can’t see me.
“Jen’s here for Ellie,” Hutch says, not even bothering to question his roommate’s state of dress.
“She’ll be right out,” Mike says, pushing the door shut and turning back to me. “Were you expecting Jen?”
I shake my head. “No, I mean, I told the girls I was here since they were asking how you were, but that’s it.”
“Huh. I guess news travels fast.”
I climb out of bed and freshen up in the bathroom, quick to pull on some clothes before I leave Mike to get himself ready.
Slipping out of his bedroom and into the kitchen area, I spot Jen sitting at the counter chatting with Hutch.
She’s got a laptop open in front of her, a mug of something steaming beside her.
“Ellie, how are you?” She slips off the stool and pulls me into a hug like we’ve been friends for years.
“Good, thanks, you?”
“Yeah, I’m great. Look … I hope you don’t mind about the group-chat thing, but I thought you may be keen to join in. Please tell me if I’ve over-stepped the mark.”
“No, no, not at all. I appreciate you including me.”
“What group chat?” Hutch asks. “Is this a girls only thing or?—”
“You’re not being added,” Jen says, cutting him off.
Hutch rolls his eyes.
“Anyway,” Jen turns towards me. “I know this may be a little forward and … well, you can say no or tell me if you hate it, but—I wanted to show you something.”
“Oh? ”
She waves me over to the counter, sitting back down before tapping the seat next to her.
“Look … I know you were thinking about a website and since you’re helping me out with my wedding hair, I thought I’d just have a play with a few things.
” She twists her laptop towards me, and she scrolls through a website; lilac and a blush of pink with snippets of white fill the screen.
“I can change anything you’re not keen on but?—”
The colours feel natural and so very un-Kathryn like. But it’s the logo at the top of the page that gets my attention the most when Jen scrolls back to the top: Styled by Ellie: Bridal & Beyond.
“I’ve just put that in as a placeholder,” she says, her eyes flicking towards mine as my jaw drops because it’s perfect. Perfect and it feels so me.
I take a moment to scan over the screen, completely in awe that Jen went out of her way to make this.
“Oh, my God,” I say. “It’s beautiful.”
“Really? I mean, I thought you could keep it simple. I think you need a section for ‘Prices’, ‘Services’ and ‘Contact Information’. That’s it,” Jen says.
I stare at the screen, completely mesmerised—still in complete shock, if I’m honest.
Then a pair of arms wrap around me, the fresh smell of Mike as his head rests on my shoulder.
“Wow, Jen. This is great,” he says. “Isn’t it great, Kitch?”
“Well, yes. I absolutely love it.”
But then an anxious knot settles in my stomach. Because something like this looks expensive. And something this expensive is out of my price range considering I’m currently trailing behind when it comes to paid work.
“What’s wrong?” Mike says. “Is it the colours? Jen can change that sort of thing, right, Jen?”
Jen offers me an encouraging nod.
“No, I love the colours, but—how much will this cost?” I ask .
“Less than a bridal hair styling would. And it’ll be easy to maintain. I can set you up with a mechanism to upload new photos and reviews.”
“But—”
“Ellie, don’t worry. I enjoy doing this sort of thing. And I liked the challenge since I’ve never made a website for anything that isn’t sport or e-commerce before,” she says, reaching for her mug and taking a sip.
“But—”
“Please,” Jen says, setting her mug down.
I worry my lip, because this is probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.
I throw my arms around her before I can stop myself, tears already prickling behind my eyes.
“Thank you. But, please let me do your hair in return. No charge. It’s the least I can do,” I say.
Jen squeezes me back before pulling away. “Okay, deal. But you need to let me have some photos. We need to get real snaps and?—”
“Ah, that’s the thing,” I say. “I’m terrible at remembering to take photos. I mean, I definitely have some, but nothing remotely new.”
“Well, it’s good timing that you’ll be doing trials soon,” Jen says. “Do you have any I can use to get us going?”
I rummage for my phone and unlock the screen, pulling up my gallery and flicking through the photos I have saved. I only have a few decent ones I’d consider web-site worthy though, but Jen picks out several and taps in her email address for me to send them over.
“I need to figure out my social media, I guess. Get some decent photos and?—”
“I’ll ask Vicky,” Jen says. “She owes Mike a favour.”
“Does she?” Mike asks, pulling away.
I turn to catch the look on his face, brows knitted together.
Hutch sniggers .
“Yes, she does,” Jen says, gritting her teeth.
Jen and Mike’s voices fade into the background as I zone out, gravitating towards one of the most thoughtful gifts I’ve ever received: my new logo. And the name I didn’t know I needed until now.
It’s everything I wanted it to be—absolutely nothing to do with Kathryn.