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Chapter one

Sam

Inearly drop the tray of hair lightener I’m holding when I read the text message alert on my watch.

The cosmetology teachers would not be pleased if my exuberant movement resulted in ruining a pan of mixed lightener, but this message deserves all the exuberance in the world. After safely setting the tray on a nearby counter, I dictate a reply into my watch to my future sister-in-law.

ME

Yes I’ll be your wedding planner! I’m so excited! I don’t even know why you would feel bad asking.

When another message notification comes through, I decide this conversation needs my full attention. My current practice client is a close friend, so she won’t be upset if I delay her balayage for a couple of minutes.

DANAE

I didn’t want you to feel pressured. Your days of being Griffin’s personal assistant are behind you, and you’re chasing your own passion now. I didn’t want you to feel guilted into it just because you used to help him plan so much. Especially since we’re on a short timeline.

ME

I don’t feel pressured. I want to do it. I’d love to help. My event planning skills haven’t gotten too rusty since we still did Camp Wizard this year. I’ll call you tonight to talk details.

DANAE

You are amazing.

Pocketing my phone, I head from the supply room out to the cosmetology school salon floor. The walk back to my station is a short distance, but I’m easily distracted by my fellow students’ work.

“Lynsey, those layers are looking gorgeous,” I say to one before turning to another to comment, “Perfect shade of warm brown, Mollie. I’m gonna need that formula written down.”

When I reach my station, I immediately gush to my waiting friend, Alice, “Guess what I get to do? I get to help plan Griff and Danae’s wedding!”

Alice smiles but clarifies, “What do you mean? What exactly are you planning?”

I start sectioning her hair as I explain, “I don’t know what all Danae wants me to do yet, but she texted and asked if I would mind being their wedding coordinator.”

“Like you would mind,” Alice snorts. “You’d be offended if she asked someone else to help instead of you.” As one of the first friends I made when I moved to the Kansas City area six years ago, Alice knows me better than a lot of people. She’s two years older and took me under her wing when I was a floundering twenty-year-old new to the city. We met in a Pilates class before anyone knew I was the younger sister of the Kansas City Crowns’ star shortstop.

Smiling, I confirm her assessment of me. “Maybe definitely true. I know they’re planning a small ceremony, so I can’t wait to talk with Danae and figure out how to make this really personal to them. But now I want to hear about your family reunion last week. Did it go better than you expected?”

When Alice groans, I know that it did not, in fact, go well and listen attentively as she vents about the drama between her sister and their four cousins. I ask questions while carefully painting lightener onto sections of her light brown hair to add some artificial sun-kissed depth.

I’m so focused on my balayage strokes that it’s startling to notice four other cosmetology students gathered around me. With Lynsey hovering over my shoulder, I pause and look back at them. “What?”

“I’m watching the master at work,” Lynsey says. “You do balayage ten times better than the rest of us.”

Mollie adds, “I’m trying to learn your ways, O Great One.”

I laugh even as my cheeks pinken with embarrassment. Alice starts chuckling as well and says, “At least I know I’m in good hands.”

“You guys are ridiculous,” I scoff, diverting attention. “We’re all still mastering techniques. Let’s not forget my curtain-bangs fiasco last week.”

After a chorus of laughter, everyone disperses, and I concentrate on making Alice’s hair look flawless. By the time I’m done with the balayage and start blow-drying and styling, we’ve talked about everything under the sun. As I’m finishing up, Alice decides to press her thumb on the single untouched topic.

Namely, my singleness.

“You’ve certainly found your groove in cosmetology school. Does that mean you’ve had any time to dip your toes into the dating pool?” Alice pries.

“All ten of my toes are firmly on dry, solid ground, thank you very much,” I quip.