“Nervous about your big interview? Don’t be. Everyone loves your music and they’re simplydyingto know what you’ve been up to since you stepped out of the spotlight.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I mutter.
She waves away my words. “You’re Felicity Wilde — one half of America’s favorite celebrity couple. They’ll be so excited to know you and Ryder are finally going out on tour, you’ll hardly have to say a word. Plus, Eileen Dillan has been doing this for so long, she’s a pro. She’ll keep the interview on track if you freeze up — which you won’t.”
“Thanks, Harper.” I crack a grin at her. “Are they paying you extra for talking me off the ledge, or is it a perk you toss in for free?”
She snorts lightly. “You know, that’s a great idea actually. I should get my medical license and become LA’s premiere psychiatrist-hairstylist combo. Think of the convenience — I sort out your hair and your head all in one quick session! Delve into your emotional roots while touching up the outgrown ones by your part! ”
“You’d make a killing.”
“Especially in this town.”
We both chuckle.
After a moment, her eyes get serious. “You know, Felicity… all jokes aside, if you ever need someone to talk to… I’m here. I realize you don’t know me all that well, that I’m just this stranger who’s been poking and prodding you for the past few hours… and perhaps I’m overstepping. Normally, I wouldn’t say a thing. But I see that look in your eyes and I recognize it so clearly.” She tucks a purple tendril of hair behind her ear, eyes filling with a grief that mirrors my own. “I’ve been where you are. And I know firsthand that coming back to this life, reclaiming the person you used to be… That’s the hardest thing in the world. Even harder than the thing that made you run in the first place.”
I suck in a breath. Our conversation, to this point, has been light and fun, centered around current events, our favorite movies, and the best places to eat in LA. Her sudden bolt of intuition is a startling sea change.
I swallow hard and hold her stare. “How did you know—”
“In my experience, a woman only makes a drastic hair decision like going blonde after an epic heartbreak or a monumental loss.” Her head tilts, contemplating me. “Which are you?”
A blue box in a bedside drawer.
An oak box in the ground by the sea.
A white box in the cold-packed earth.
“Both,” I whisper, voice cracking. “I’m both.”
She nods, as though she understands all too well. “For what it’s worth — it gets easier. That feeling, like you’re drowning, like you can’t get enough air… it goes away, even if the grief doesn’t. One day, you wake up and you’re breathing again, without even realizing it.”
Our gazes hold in the mirror — two women who know next to nothing about each other, somehow sharing a moment of perfect understanding. I wonder fleetingly what she’s been through, what loss she suffered that swims so brightly in her eyes, but I don’t ask. It’s enough just to know there’s someone else out there who’s made it through the other side of grief and found herself again.
Horrifyingly, I find myself fighting back tears.
It’s been so long since I had anyone in my corner, so long since I had a friend to confide in. I nearly break down when I realize how crushingly lonely I’ve become. How starved I’ve been for a shoulder to cry on, after spending two years propping myself up time and time again.
I should be used to it by now.
I should be stronger than this.
After all, I spent my whole childhood relying only on myself. But once you let down your walls, once you get used to having people in your corner… it’s hard to go back to that life of stoic solitude.
I miss Carly.
I miss Issac.
I miss the customers at The Nightingale.
I miss star-filled nights in Nashville.
I miss him.
“Thank you, Harper,” I murmur eventually, my voice thicker than normal. “For… everything.”
“Just doing my part to keep you from melting down and ruining the makeup job,” she says with a lightness that doesn’t match the look in her eyes. Her hands give my shoulders a quick, reassuring squeeze. “Your interview starts in an hour. Is your driver still outside?”