chest, I inhale the scent of her hair and I know that whatever challenges are coming our way, it’ll be worth it if we’re together.
The only problem is that I don’t yet know what those challenges are going to be, or how much things are just about to change.
22
Margot
Melissa blow-dries my hair. She’s turned me away from the mirror so I can’t see what she’s doing, but based on the bundles of extensions lying on the side table, and the mass of hair at my feet, she’s chopped off a lot of it.
My hair stylist turns off the blow dryer and smiles at me. “You look flippin’ amazing, Margot. You should have done this years ago. It’s edgy, sexy, and so completely perfect.”
“Turn me around already,” I laugh, gripping the edges of the chair.
Melissa spins the chair around, and I gasp. She’s chopped my hair off, leaving only a short, chin-length bob. I touch the ends of my hair, running my fingers through the smooth, short strands.
“Holy shit,” I breathe. “I can’t believe we just did that.”
“Play with it! Flick your head around! Do you love it?”
I take a deep breath, turning my head from side to side as a smile spreads across my face. “Yeah,” I say, glancing at her in the mirror. “I do, actually.”
“You sound like you doubted my abilities.”
“Never,” I grin. “I just doubted my looks without my hair.”
“Not sure how my brand partners will react. Long, blonde hair was written into a lot of my sponsorship contracts.”
“Fuck ‘em,” Melissa says, wrapping her arms around me. “Live your life, Margot. You deserve it. Wear wigs if you have to. Who cares?”
I smile, glancing at myself in the mirror again. It’s only hair. I know it’s only hair. But it feels significant. Having long, blonde hair has been my ‘look’ for my entire life. I’ve always been the blonde bombshell. That’s the image that has made me millions.
And I just chopped it off.
It might just be hair, but getting rid of it makes me feel completely free. Free from Hunter, free from the shackles of Farcliff media, free from the tower of fame where I locked myself for years.
I run my fingers through my hair, marveling at how soft it feels.
“You know,” I say, glancing at Melissa, “now I understand Britney Spears in 2007. This is incredible.”
Melissa laughs. “Except she did it because of a breakdown, and you’re doing it because of a breakthrough.”
When Dante sees me with short hair, his face breaks into a smile and he throws me over his shoulder. I laugh all the way to the bedroom and then fall into bed with him.
We spend the next week in each other’s arms. The weight on my shoulders lifts, and I feel more relaxed than I have in a long time. I hadn’t realized how much Hunter’s presence looming over me was affecting me, and how much pressure I was feeling in Farcliff.
Now, in this tropical island paradise, I feel free.
On our eighth morning in Argyle, I wake up with a smile on my face. Dante runs his hand over my stomach and lets out a soft sighs.
“You’re getting sexier by the day, Margot.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “If you say so.”
Before we can do anything else, a knock sounds on the door. My eyebrows arch as we both glance at the closed door.
“Who is it?” Dante calls out.
“It’s me,” my sister’s answers.
I slide out of bed and wrap a housecoat around me before opening the door. Ivy has a huge smile on her face. Her pregnancy is much more obvious than mine—either because she has a smaller body or because she’s having twins. We’re approaching twenty-one weeks, now, and we’re both starting to show a little bit more.
“What’s going on?” I pull the door open wider.
Ivy glances at Dante in bed, her cheeks flushing. She turns her eyes back to me. “Luca and I are getting married.”
My face breaks into a smile as warmth floods through my chest. I throw my arms around my sister. She grunts when I hug her, laughing.
I pull away, taking her left hand in mine and glancing at the rock on her finger. I wiggle my eyebrows, and Ivy laughs.
“My little sister is getting married,” I sigh.
She arches her eyebrows at me. “I mean today, Margot. We’re getting married today.”
“What?”
“I want to be married before the twins come. I know it’s old-fashioned, but it just feels right. Waiting