“Ajay, he called, and I thought he was going to tell me he was in town, but he was calling to say he wouldn’t be here until later. My hopes were up and then down—”
“And then you laid in bed looking at your ceiling thinking about all the terrible things he might have been doing, to which you proceeded to second guess yourself about all of your decisions?” She’s standing at the foot of my bed with a flannel shirt in her hand; she tosses it to me. I bring it to my nose and inhale. Little does she know that it’s Ajay’s. I took it from him when I left his house. I needed something of his to hold me over until I saw him again.
Dhara sits down next to me. “Jamie, I love you. You’re my best friend. But I want you to hear me and absorb what I’m telling you. Ajay Ballard is head over heels in love with you. I promise you that those stupid little thoughts you’re having are very misplaced. That man will not do anything to intentionally hurt you ever again.”
“I know,” I say quietly, still cuddling his shirt. “I can’t help it though. I read things.”
“Stop reading the shit on the internet.”
“You do,” I point out.
“That’s because I’m a fangirl. I read so I can pretend I’m there and part of the scandal.”
“Dhara!”
She shrugs. “It’s all a fantasy, J. I would never be the woman to break up a marriage. Ever. I’m not that person, I don’t care how famous the person is. That’s not how I roll, but I pretend. I picture myself married to guys like Liam Page because it’s an escape from reality when the truth is that I met the guy and couldn’t even form a sentence. Like, my rock God was standing in front of me, shaking my hand and smiling, and the only thing I could do was swallow. Fletcher saved me. He said everything to Liam and the other guys that I’ve wanted to say for years. It probably took me an hour, if not longer, to finally find the courage to move from the spot I was standing in and mingle. But by the end of the little party, I was comfortable.”
“And more in love?”
“Yeah, with what he shares with his wife. She walked in and bam! The whole room shifted on its axis. I want a guy to look at me the way Liam looks at his wife.” She nudges my hip with her elbow. “The way Ajay looks at you when you come into view. From the time we were kids, I’ve been jealous of you both. I knew early on what love at first sight was. It was Jameson and Ajay, two souls destined to be together, come hell or high water. You’ve already been through hell and he’s going to be your ark to get you through the high water.”
“When did you become so philosophical?”
Dhara smiles. “Let’s go, seriously we have hair and nail appointments this morning.”
“They’re not even open yet.”
“They will be by the time we get to Wilmington.”
“But Ajay—”
Dhara tugs on my arm, pulling me upright. “We’ll be back before he even gets to town. Come on, get dressed and wear that shirt. I want to beat traffic.”
Until today, I have never been to a salon that has black drapes over their mirrors. The stylist says it’s because there was a death in the family, and they were in mourning. Add this oddity to the fact that the salon sign says they’re closed, cell phones aren’t allowed, and no one asked me what I wanted my hair to look like. I’m fairly confident that when I leave here, I’m going to look like Frenchie from Grease and all Dhara can say is that I look beautiful.
She does, of course. Her hair is done in a French twist and her make-up looks flawless. From what I can tell, mine is curled, braided, twisted, and pinned. After this, I’m not so sure she can be my best friend anymore. Who brings their bestie to a place like this knowing full well they’re seeing the judge today? Mine, that’s who.
“Close your eyes,” the stylist says to me. I do, reluctantly.
“What’s going on?” I ask anyone who is willing to give me a straight answer.
“We’re being pampered,” Dhara says. “Enjoy it.”
“I feel like this is a set-up.”
“It is,” she laughs.
“What?” I turn my head quickly. “Shit, sorry,” I tell the woman working on me. She doesn’t say anything but mutters a few expletives that shouldn’t be repeated in public. “Dhara, you need to start talking, immediately.”
She sighs. “You’re such a buzzkill. Ajay is taking you out to dinner tonight and he thought you’d like a day at the spa.”
“This isn’t a spa,” I say through gritted teeth. “A spa means a massage, a mud bath, a mani and pedi. For all I know I look like Bozo the clown.” I glance at the girl working on me and cringe. “Sorry.”
“Well I needed my hair done, so this was an easy solution.”
“Yeah, for you.”
“Eh, whatever.”