Color Me Pretty: A Father's Best Friend Romance

“Not for Judith or anybody else.” That shut me up. Well, that and the narrowed look she gave me that told me to let her speak. “You’re going to come to my private studio and we’re going to dance like I originally offered, except I’m not giving you a choice this time.”

“But—”

“No. Routine, remember? Yoga is a first step. A baby step if you will. It’ll get your mind to calm and center your focus. Dancing will help you get back out there again and start recognizing your body for what it is. Plus, you can’t tell me you’ve never danced since walking away. I wouldn’t believe it.”

I wasn’t going to admit I’d found myself moving to old routines we’d practiced or turning on music here and moving my body to the beat, or even slow dancing at the warehouse with Theo, something I desperately wanted to repeat just for the sake of being held by him and caressed by the melody. “But I don’t want to, Tiffany.”

“Why?”

I said nothing.

“I’m not finishing your hair until I get a valid answer. Don’t think I won’t make you walk around looking like you lost a fight to a chainsaw. Feel me?”

My lips twitched.

“So?” she pressed.

I debated my options and met her eyes realizing I didn’t have any. So, I admitted for the second time in one day what I’d held in for a long time. “It’s the mirrors.”

Her head cocked. “The mirrors?” When I nodded, she considered the answer, studying me like she was trying to figure out my tells. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. That’s good.”

“I’m confused.”

She snickered and went back to my hair, clearly accepting my answer for what it was. “If it’s just that, it’s a fixable problem I can actually help with.”

Again. I was silent.

“Think about it,” she prompted. “Your endgame, subconsciously, is doing that drawing class as a nude model. Which, by the way, badass. That would be nerve wracking for anybody. But if you get back on that dance floor, in front of the mirrors, and work out those feelings, you’ll be better for it. You’ll get used to accepting your body again. It’ll take time, Adele, like everything does.”

It made sense, more than I wanted it to. So, for the rest of the haircut, we were silent while I considered it with a heavy conscious. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but welcoming.

Eventually, she started humming like she was enjoying herself and I figured it had something to do with her victory considering I didn’t argue.

After she told me to look in the mirror when she was finished, I touched the ends of my new short cut and smiled at my reflection. It lasted longer than norma

l. When I came back out and saw her sweeping the floor despite her protests before, I smiled wider because…

We were becoming friends.

So, I said, “The people who don’t completely dislike me call me Della.”

She paused, looked up at me, and tried hiding a smile. “Okay.” Another pause. “People don’t really call me anything other than Tiffany, Tiff, or bitch. Typically, the latter.”

I snorted. “Tiff it is.”

A last-minute decision had me snapping a selfie to show off my new look and sending it to Theo with no caption. I didn’t need one.

My phone pinged.

Theo: Like I always say. Beautiful.

Chapter Twelve

Theo