In walked a leggy brunette with the grace of a dancer and mouth of a sailor.

“Hey, girl!”

I grinned up at her. “Hey, Frannie.”

She sauntered over to the reception desk and sat next to me to check over her appointments for the day. I had come out of the back room after a few minutes of hiding, but hadn’t been able to bring myself to look out the window again, so I’d kept myself busy cleaning the salon and filing paperwork.

“Looks like another busy day,” she said.

“Yes, it does. I’m going to be inventorying all the hair color in the back between clients, so that should be fun.”

Frannie elbowed my side. “You know you love it.”

I laughed. “Okay, I do.”

Like routine, neatness and order were part of my wheelhouse. There were few things that made me happier than going into the color room and seeing each box of hair color lined up neatly by level and tone. The stylists who worked for me tried to keep it tidy because they knew how I was, but it actually gave me pleasure to organize it. I was exacting, and I knew it, but I tried not to take my insanely high standards out on other people.

“What are your thoughts on the wine bar tonight? I feel like it’s been forever since we did that.”

I tilted my head to the side and thought about it. Frannie, Rachel—my business partner and friend—and I had made a habit of hitting the wine bar down the street after work at least once a week for the last few years. But life for all of us had changed a lot recently, with Rachel engaged and planning a wedding, Frannie moving in with her boyfriend, and me ending a long-term relationship. I had to admit I had pulled away from Rachel and Frannie lately, but my distance was more about self-preservation than not wanting to be with my friends. I was incredibly happy they had found love, but it was a little hard for me to watch now that I was in such a different place. But I missed them, and since my routine had already been shot to hell, I might as well shake it up even more.

“Sure, let’s do it,” I said.

Frannie clapped. “Awesome! I’ve missed our talks, E.”

I laid my head on her shoulder. “Me too. It’s just been rough.”

She laid her head on mine. “I know, sweetie. But you’re coming out on the other side and it’ll be so much better. You’ll see it soon.”

I laughed lightly. “I thought I was the optimistic romantic in this friendship.”

She lifted her head and smiled at me. “What can I say? That big hunk of a man of mine made my withered heart grow three sizes.”

For the first five years I knew her, Frannie had never had a boyfriend, and had hardly even dated beyond Tinder hook-ups. She simply hadn’t been interested. That was, until she met James, a stoic bartender-slash-computer-genius who turned her world upside down and righted it again.

The bell above the door chimed as Rachel walked in. “Hey, ladies!” she greeted.

Seeing Rachel always made me smile. She was like a rainbow after a storm or that one defiant star that stuck around long after the others had faded. From her colorful, bohemian clothing to her wild, wavy red hair to her easy-going personality, we were opposite in a lot of ways. But she was the best friend I had in the world and I kind of wanted to be her when I grew up. Frannie and I had talked about it before and we both agreed Rachel was life goals.

Frannie pointed at me. “I convinced this one to go to the wine bar.”

Rachel raised her hands over her head. “Victory!”

I laughed. “It didn’t take much convincing. I could really use a night out with my girls.”

Rachel put her hands on her hips. “Oh, please. You’ve turned us down at least a dozen times. The only time I see you outside of work anymore is when you come over to jam with Joe.”

Joe was Rachel’s fiancé, and I guess I would say he was my friend now too. We’d connected over music, and he’d actually been the one to pull me out of my music comfort zone. His piano wasn’t a baby grand, but a lovely upright I played while he played guitar and sang. Rachel liked to sing along too, but for someone so awesome, her voice was...not.

“You’re right. I’ve been a crappy friend, and I’m sorry. That ends today. I’m done being miserable.”

Frannie high-fived me. “About time, lady! I’ve been stuck having wine with Rachel and Joe. Not even I can take much more of watching them making googly eyes at each other like two lovesick fools.”

“I seem to recall you’re a lovesick fool yourself,” I reminded her.

She sighed and looked off in the distance. “Oh, that’s right, I am madly in love with my sweet James.” Then she pointed at me sternly. “That doesn’t change the fact that I’ve been third wheeling it with the two lovebirds while James has been busy working and you’ve been hiding from the world.”

Rachel rested her hand on my shoulder. “Tonight will be just the three of us. No googly eyes allowed.”

“Sounds perfect.”

The door chimed again, and my first client arrived. It was time to get to work.

I had backed off seeking out new clients once Rachel became my partner in the business a year and a half ago, but I had a solid clientele I’d built up based on my precision cuts alone. It should have been a surprise to no one that I was as exacting in the haircuts I gave as I was with everything else in my life. My clients came to me for perfectly blunt bobs and precise A-line layers. It thrilled me to no end to send a woman out of my salon with edges so sharp they looked like they could cut glass.

As the day slipped by, the rest of the six stylists came in and the steady hum of murmured conversation and blow-dryers became my white noise. I felt myself relax, the tension in my shoulders and neck I seemed to carry almost all the time these days easing—especially when I got the chance to stand in the color room with my clipboard, making a list of which hair colors and supplies we needed to order. Rachel and I had split up a lot of duties when she became co-owner, but this was my domain.

When the three of us were done for the day and I had cleaned up the salon, we walked a couple blocks down Main Street to the wine bar and found a cozy booth in the back.

“Tapas?” Frannie asked.

“Yes! I’m starving!” I said.

“Should we order everything?” Rachel asked.

“Except the olives. Bleh!” said Frannie.

We all agreed no olives, but we ordered a table full of small plates and glasses of sangria. It felt ridiculously good to be with my girls and do something normal and not regimented.

“Did either of you know Abe sold his shop?” I asked.

Frannie slapped the table. “I noticed someone was doing work over there today.”

I cringed. I had made a concerted effort not to look across the street and I’d been busy enough that I hadn’t given in to temptation. “Why would he change Abe’s shop? It’s perfect.”

“Do you know who bought it?” Frannie asked.

Rachel raised her hand. “I do!”

“You knew and didn’t tell me?” I asked.

She shrugged. “You’re in there every day. I assumed Abe would tell you.”

“I don’t even see him most days since I go there so early. I didn’t find out until this morning when the new owner walked in on me playing.”

Frannie waved her hands around. “Wait, wait, wait! I’m in the dark here. Who bought it?”

I sighed. “Charlie.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Charlie? The deliciously handsome artist I met at Rachel and Joe’s Friendsgiving?”

I wrinkled my nose. “That’s the one.”

“Why the face?” Rachel asked.

“I’ve met him once and he saw me humiliated and berated by Edward. I was really hoping I could avoid him for the rest of my life.”

Frannie patted my hand. “Sweetie, you had a shit-for-brains ex. That’s not your fault. We all felt sorry for you that day, but no one blamed you for it.”

Rachel nodded vigorously. “Charlie is a little rough around the edges, but he’s sweet. I’m one-hundred percent positive he didn’t judge you. He did judge the hell out of Edward, but we all did.”

I sipped my sweet wine and tried to convince myself to believe them. When I met Charlie, I had been in a terrible place in my life. I was with a boyfriend who had no qualms about calling me trashy in front of my friends because I had gotten a tattoo, but on the other hand, planned to propose to me in front of our families. Thankfully, I’d finally had enough and got out, but the humiliation I felt from the entire incident at Friendsgiving still held strong.

“Rach, if you think he’s great, then he probably is. All I know for sure is I’ll be at your place a lot more playing piano since I can’t go to the shop anymore,” I said.

Frannie’s perfectly arched eyebrows pinched together. “Did he tell you you couldn’t play there anymore?” She looked ready to throw down for me.

“No,” I admitted. “But I feel uncomfortable about the whole thing. I had an agreement with Abe, and it feels non-transferable.”

“You’re always welcome at our house. But I know how happy playing that baby grand makes you. You shouldn’t give it up just because Charlie’s the owner now. You said yourself you never really saw Abe when you went in the morning. That probably won’t change with Charlie. Although, I think you should give him a chance. He’s a nice guy and an amazing musician himself,” Rachel said.

My ears perked up at Charlie being a musician too. But that only made sense with him buying the music shop.

“I promise I’ll think about it. Now, can we talk wedding? I can’t believe it’s only six weeks away!”

Rachel clapped her hands. “Can we? Are you sure you’re not sick of hearing about it?”

“Never. You are the least bridezilla bride I’ve ever seen,” I said.

“I almost went bridesmaidzilla when you picked those shiny green dresses,” Frannie said.

Rachel sucked in air between her teeth and wrinkled her nose. “Those were so bad, weren’t they? It was a moment of insanity. I have no other excuse!”

“Have you and Joe chosen the songs you want me to play?” I asked.

“Don’t kill me, but not yet! It’s hard getting married to a musician. He has so many favorite songs that mean something different to him. He can’t choose!”

“Okay, well, hurry up! I need a couple weeks to practice.”

Rachel had asked Frannie and me to be bridesmaids, but she was going a little nontraditional with my role by having me play their processional and recessional music for the ceremony. I was nervous—playing in front of people wasn’t something I ever did—but Rachel and Joe were one of my favorite love stories, so I would do anything to make the day they finally walked down the aisle even more special.

“Have you decided what you want to do for your bachelorette party?” Frannie asked.

Rachel waved her hands around and whisper-shouted, “I can’t make any more decisions! As long as there’s booze, nineties music, and my girls, I’ll be happy!”

Frannie laughed. “Okay, girl, I’ve got you.”

After we stuffed ourselves full of tapas, we said goodnight and Frannie drove to her condo in Baltimore while Rachel and I walked to our places in Tiber City.

My apartment was only two buildings up from my salon, on the top floor of a former bank built in the 1920s. When I got to the landing outside my door, there was an envelope on my welcome mat. I picked it up, noticing the weight, and when I opened it, a very familiar key fell into my hand. The note that accompanied it made me laugh.

In a messy scrawl, it read:

I knew he was trouble when I first saw him, with his tattoos and stupidly chiseled cheekbones. And this note confirmed it. Not only was he too attractive for his own good, he also seemed to be really funny and maybe even a little sweet. Definitely trouble.