to be good enough to have attracted this sort of crowd.
By the time I got the menu and scanned it, I was starting to feel a little better already. Maybe Phil was right and this wallowing had to stop. No more pining after Ashton.
I was realistic enough to not expect the feelings to go away overnight, but I didn’t have to give memories of him its own shrine. Over time the love would dull like what I’d felt for Mario.
God, I hope so.
“Hey, Callum, right?”
I glanced up. A guy—Dane, Noelle’s hairdresser—stood by my table, smiling.
“Hey, Dane. What are you doing here?”
My eyes narrowed suspiciously at him. Coincidence? Phil was just begging me to move on, and suddenly Dane appeared like some sign? But I hadn’t told anyone where I was going. For all Phil knew, I was still brooding in my apartment.
“I stopped by to pick up something to go,” he replied, then made a face. “Busy day today at the parlor. Is your boyfriend joining you?”
I winced at his question. “We’re on a break.”
“No shit. I’m so sorry, man. I know you were really into him.”
“Stuff happens.”
“Do you mind me joining you for a meal, then?” He was already sitting in the chair across from me before I could answer. “I hate eating alone at home. My ex-boyfriend and I used to eat out a lot, and it just feels weird doing it alone now.”
“Yeah, Ash used to try and cook for me. Of course, most times he ended up burning the food, but it was good enough for me.”
I smiled at the memory of Ashton. Not all our memories were horrible. We’d made lots of good ones together, and that made our relationship that much more sour. To know all we could’ve had and could have been to each other if only he could remain sober.
Dane was a talker, which was fine by me. I didn’t have much to contribute anyway. Everything I said seemed to be about Ashton, and I was already trying to get out of my own head where he was concerned.
For a dinner that wasn’t planned, it went surprisingly well. The food was good—not as good as Papa’s Garage, where I’d taken Ashton, but good enough.
Shit, I need to stop doing that. Comparing everything to what I had with Ashton.
“Talking about the parlor,” Dane said and gulped a sip from his drink. Out of habit, I’d ordered something fruity and nonalcoholic.
“Yes?” I prompted Dane.
“You should stop by for a trim.”
I ran my fingers through my hair. He was right. I could do with a trim. I just had little interest, though for the coffee shop’s sake, I should take more interest in my appearance.
“Hmm, maybe I’ll take you up on that offer.”
“First one’s on me.” He dug into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and tugged out a business card, which he handed to me. “I own the salon and rent out the other booths, so I’m not just merely a hair stylist. I’m a businessman. Just like you.”
“How did you get started in this industry?” I took in the professionally designed card. I bet his salon was as expensive as the look of this card.
“When I was younger, my mother worked at a salon.” He laughed at the memory. “I used to do my assignments at the back of the salon. Sometimes I’d be their shampoo boy. I had a knack for it, so I took a course in personal grooming.”
“I must confess, I cut my own hair.”
He grimaced. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but it shows. I’d love to get my hands on you.”
His cheeks went red, and my stomach pitched to the floor. Shit, did he think this was a date? To anyone looking, it might’ve seemed like a date, but he should know better. This was just a coincidence.
“I meant your hair,” he said laughing nervously. “I’d love to get my hands into your hair for you to see just how much difference a professional cut and treatment can make. You don’t have to look so freaked-out that I’m hitting on you.”
Now it was my time to glance away from him. “I just didn’t want you to get the wrong idea.”
“You’re not over your ex. I get it. Hell, I’m not even over my ex. The offer still stands from the other night when we met. Friends. If you need a listening ear, I have two that work perfectly well.”
I relaxed at the reassurance of his words, though hearing