He looks at me and raises his eyebrows. “You wish I hadn’t?” “I never said that,” I reply with a smile. He smiles back. “Good, because I...don’t regret one minute of it. You’re even more gorgeous than I remember, Chanel.” “Oh stop, you’re making me blush,” I facetiously reply. He sits on the bed next to me and kisses me. “I’m not kidding. Can I see you again before I leave?” He asks after he pulls away. I grin at his earnestness. “How about next Saturday? I work all week.” “Sounds good.” He. He sits quietly while I gather everything I need, taking longer than usual because his presence knocks me off kilter. ‘I don’t want anything too drastic,’ he tells me. ‘Just something to make me look professional.’ Normally I’d be amused at the hint of anxiety in his voice, he’s concerned I might take too much off, I can tell. Being in the business this long has helped me decode ‘I want just a little off’ as: ‘Please keep my hair completely the same.’ He doesn’t chatter while I mess around, and. More

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