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HARPER
*
I’D BOUGHT A CHAMPAGNE chiffon silk dress with beading on the bodice, and a pair of sexy, open-toed stilettos. I’d been pretty pleased with my purchases considering the short notice.
I wasn’t going to leave anything to chance. I was determined to wow my husband and that meant seeing professionals for my nails and hair.
I hadn’t managed to get an appointment for both a manicure and a pedicure at this late date, but I had found a place that took walk-ins for manicures. I would just have to do my own toenails.
The nail salon was bustling. I wondered how many women there were going to be at the event tonight. Or maybe it was always this busy.
I took a seat at the long table. Clients were dressed in a mix of styles, from sweatpants and cutoffs to business suits and floral dresses, while the manicurists were all outfitted in purple shirts and white slacks.
The manicurist I sat across from sported purple daisy earrings to match her uniform.
According to the nametag sewn onto her shirt, her name was Suze. I wasn’t sure about the etiquette since I’d never had my nails done by a professional before, but I took a chance and introduced myself.
She smiled and said, “Hello.”
So far, so good. “I’d like a color that would complement a champagne-colored gown. So if you could suggest a shade.”
She quickly selected a few colors.
I chose the polish that was a shade or two paler than my dress. I was trying for equal parts sexy and sophisticated.
There was some disturbance down the line, a client insisting on switching seats. The older woman, who’d been sitting next to me, muttered under her breath in complaint as she got up and moved a couple of seats down. Someone quickly took her chair, the fussy client, I assumed.
I glanced over. Kat Ainsworth was staring at me, her pale gray eyes lit up with malice. I fought a shudder. She pushed her phone the few inches along the table toward me.
It took me a moment to realize who the couple was on the screen.
My heart started pumping fast. It was Finn and me at the concert. I blinked hoping to clear my vision, praying my mind was playing tricks. But we were still there on the phone screen, still hugging. And somehow the hug looked so much less innocent taken at this angle. He was clutching me tightly, my blouse bunched between his fingers. And I was standing on tiptoes as if I were begging for a kiss when all I'd been doing was stroking his face as he'd teared up. I shoved the phone back at her.
Through the pulse thumping in my ears, I heard Kat’s strident tone as she told the manicurist exactly what she wanted. She was making a distinction between crimson and scarlet, and insisting on crimson.
"Harper,” she said sharply, swinging her face back to me. “You don't get to swoop in and take what's mine without repercussions. Rowley may not be the jealous type, but he won’t be able to ignore this level of disrespect."
Not the jealous type? She knew a far different Rowley Ford than I did.
"You had me followed."
She frowned a little, in a false play-acting way. Her emotional development seemed to have been arrested at the high school stage. "For the money I paid him, he should have gotten a better angle. Unfortunately, you can't see much of your face. But that long, pale blonde hair is unmistakable."
“Rowley already knows everything about that concert,” I said. Once my anger and defiance had cooled about our contentious wedding night, I’d considered telling him about meeting with Finn. But I’d made the decision to keep it a secret. I’d figured there was no point poking the bear. God, how I wished I hadn’t been such a coward.
“That is so clearly a lie,” she said.
She turned her face from me suddenly and directed that malevolent stare at the manicurist. “I told you to leave my fucking cuticles alone,” she said, with a voice that could cut glass.
Heads turned her way, but she seemed oblivious.
“I think the tabloids will pay plenty for this, don’t you?” She was speaking to me again. “I can just see the headline: Newest Rock Sensation, Finn Newton, Reunites with His Wife, or maybe: Wife Cheats on Her Brave Firefighter Husband with Her Sleazy Rock Star Ex.”
“Finn isn’t a big enough star to interest the tabloids,” I said, my brave words undermined by the trembling in my voice. “He’s certainly not front cover material, and besides, my husband doesn’t read tabloids.”
“Perhaps you’re right. Then the picture will just have to speak for itself.” Her lips curled into a vicious smile. "Or you could just leave him. If you do, I promise to delete this." She waved the phone in my direction. "He'll never know what a slut he married."
I glanced in embarrassment at Suze, and she quickly dropped her gaze, refocusing her attention on my nails.
“That’s not happening. I’m not leaving him.”
"Well, then I'll have to make sure he sees this," Kat said. "I'll just wait for the perfect moment."
I realized suddenly that she was more than malicious, she was delusional, and my marriage was going to end up collateral damage to her delusion. Rowley was never going to marry her. But I didn’t have the guts to say that to her. It wasn’t hard to imagine her scratching my face with her blood red talons.
My encounter at the nail salon had left me shell-shocked. But I forced myself to go through with my hair dressing appointment. I was so preoccupied driving home that I cut the turn short and bumped over the curb as I pulled into the driveway.
I needed a drink of something, anything. I checked the cupboard above the fridge where Rowley kept the hard stuff. There was only a bottle of whiskey with maybe three shots left. I poured myself a shot. It burned going down. I poured another shot, but drank it much slower this time, grimacing after each tiny sip.
I imagined what I must look like half-done, with my glamorous, upswept hairdo, and my perfect nails, yet still wearing an old band shirt and jeans with the knees torn out.
I stared at the shot glass in my hand. I was being melodramatic there had to be a solution to this. The truth for instance? Ha! I had a husband who didn't trust me as far as he could throw me; who took inventory of my clothing to assure himself I wasn't leaving him. If I told him now, it would just seem shady. He would wonder why I’d waited so long.
I took one more bracing sip and then dumped the rest down the sink. I swore to myself that if I got through this, there would be no more secrets. I would never keep anything from Rowley again.