Ava pursed her lips. “And what would that be?” Emily didn’t answer. She didn’t even know, or at least she didn’t want to say. “Come sit down and I’ll do your hair,” Ava said coaxingly. “You do know this is my job, don’t you?”
Emily looked at her in surprise. “A hairdresser?”
“No, not that. Although sort of, I suppose.” Ava let out a little laugh. “I started a business helping women go back into the workforce—help them with their training, their CVs, and their clothes and hair and make-up. So many don’t even know where to begin, and their self-confidence is at absolute zero.” Ava picked up a brush and started teasing Emily’s hair out. “Don’t worry, it’s clean,” she said soothingly. “I disinfected it before I came.”
Emily closed her eyes. Surely she wasn’t that much of a germophobe? Well, yes, she probably was. But there was something surprisingly soothing about submitting herself to Ava’s ministrations. As she gently pulled the brush through Emily’s hair, she was reminded of the storybook, the rocking chair. Goodnight brush and goodnight mush… She felt like a child, and it was both a strange and sweet feeling. She closed her eyes and let herself relax.
An hour later, Emily was ready. She’d been amazed at how long the hair and make-up had taken, but Ava was exacting and Emily had found herself enjoying simply sitting still. Plus she’d had another gin and tonic, and she was feeling decidedly relaxed.
“All right, are you ready for the big reveal?” Ava said as she put her hands on Emily’s shoulders and steered her towards the full-length mirror in the bathroom. “No peeking until I say, all right?”
“All right.” Emily had no idea what to expect.
“Ta-da!” Ava crowed, and Emily opened her eyes.
For a second, as absurd as it was, she didn’t recognise the woman in the mirror. For a second, she envied that woman, because she looked so vibrant and glowing and happy. And then she realised it was her.
“I…” Emily was at a loss for words as she put one hand to the soft, full waves that fell onto her shoulders. Stared at her smoky eyes with a subtle, sexy hint of cat-flick eyeliner, the perfectly outlined lips, the touch of colour on cheekbones that looked far more sculpted than usual.
“It’s not too much, is it?”
“No…” Because, amazingly, it wasn’t. She didn’t look ridiculously overdressed or tarty, as she’d feared. She simply looked wonderfully alive. Emily’s gaze dropped to her figure, the knit dress clinging to her curves thanks to the help of the belt. She looked sexy but not too sexy, although it was miles beyond what she was used to.
“What will Owen think?” she asked aloud.
“He’ll think you’re smokin’ hot, because you are, and that he has completely lucked out, because he has.”
The words caused a thrill to run through her, and yet some old, cautious part of her resisted. “Still, it feels a bit much…” All the old doubts were racing back. She never wanted to be noticed. Yes, she’d used clothes as armour, professional clothes that kept people at a distance. Everything about her right now was saying notice me, and that was not her usual at all.
Ava put her hands back on Emily’s shoulders as she met her gaze in the mirror. “Trust me when I say this is not too much. Speaking as someone who did more than the ‘bit much’ all the time, I know what I’m talking about.”
“Do you?” Emily managed a wavery smile.
“Yes, I do. Look, Emily, I understand why you don’t want to put yourself out there. I was an expert in self-protection for a long time. I did it differently than you, to be sure, but it still feels the same inside. A way to stay safe, to keep people at a distance. And when it works, you might feel safe, but you don’t feel happy.”
Her words both exposed and comforted her. Emily kept her gaze on Ava’s in the mirror as she asked, “Why did you do that?”
Ava sighed. “Because life dealt me a pretty raw hand for a while. My mother scarpered when I was twelve, and my dad wasn’t all that interested in a daughter. I left home at sixteen and ended up working in a club—I won’t bore you with the details, but it wasn’t the best work, shall we say. Then I ended up temping, and then marrying my boss, and living like a trophy wife for five years, never forgetting it for a minute. When I met Jace…he was the only person who kept trying with me. Who saw me as something other than how I saw myself. And if Owen can be your Jace, even if it’s just a small chance…well, I want that for you. I want that for anyone. A lot.”
Emily swallowed hard, absorbing everything Ava had said. “It’s just one date.”
“I know, and that’s fine. Maybe you’ll just have a nice dinner and that will be that. But you’ll have gone out, and taken a risk, and that’s almost as important. Life is for living, Emily. Not hiding away, however you choose to do it.”
“I’m not actually hiding—”
“Not literally, but there are different ways of doing it. Trust me, I know. Now, m’lady, your carriage awaits.”
Emily stared at her blankly. “Carriage…?”
“Well, Jace’s truck.” Ava gave her a flippant smile. “But he’s cleaned it just for you.”
To her horror, Emily’s eyes filled with tears. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this for me. Everyone. It’s so much—”
“Don’t cry,” Ava said severely. “Or I will too, and worse, you’ll wreck the amazing make-up job I did. I’m doing this for my sake as much as yours, okay? Because it makes me feel better too. And I want to help anyone I can, because I know what it’s like to be helped. Lady Stokeley helped me along with Jace, and Harriet and Ellie too. I’d never had friends before I moved to Willoughby Close.”
Emily’s throat closed as
