“Gabrielle,” I sigh. She hasn't stopped for a breath, verbally undressing Sy for most of the day. The woman won’t give up.

“Holly, look at him,” she says, reaching out and lifting my face from the paperwork in front of me. “That man is sex on fire. You damn blind or what?” I pull back and turn toward her. Her long, dark hair is pulled up into some kickass bun on top of her head, braids entwined all through the masterpiece. She peels her eyes off Sy, who’s standing across the street, to turn and look at me.

“I’m not blind. I can see,” I agree with her assessment. I silently add, but Sy and I are just complicated. We may have had a connection once before, but now, things are too messed up.

“He’s so mysterious. Maybe I should get a tattoo from him,” she smirks, resting her elbow on the desk, her head lost in her personal daydream.

“You do that,” I say, going back to my paperwork. I’ve had a busy day, picking up two new clients plus the few I had booked.

“You wouldn’t care?” She sounds shocked.

“Why would I care? I already told you, he is just someone I know. That’s it.” I try to let the words be true, but I know I’m only lying to myself.

“Holly, the man has stood out there all day keeping an eye on you. I've watched him watch you. He might be someone you know, but that man out there, is feeling something else for you,” she says, pointing toward Sy. She shakes her head at me and walks to the back of the salon. I look up and catch Sy's stare; his chin lifts, giving me his signature nod. I awkwardly raise my hand and wave over at him. His lips quirk in a small lift, awarding me with his grin. Dropping my hand, I get back to my work as an unfamiliar sensation flows through me. Excitement? Anticipation? Something settles over me; it slightly outweighs the dread I always feel. For the first time in a long time, I find myself not wanting the sadness to take over and bring me down.

“Looks like Mr. Dark and Dangerous is heading our way,” Gabrielle says, walking past me with her bag and coat. “You okay if I head out? I have to pick up Rosie. Derrick’s on late nights this week.” Rosie is Gabrielle’s five-year-old daughter and Derrick is her amazing husband.

“Yeah, it's okay. I’m just finishing up now.” I wave her off, my eyes still on Sy as he walks past the glass door.

“See you tomorrow,” she laughs, leaving us alone in the empty salon.

“You’re still here,” I state, packing up the desk, not quite giving him my eyes. “I thought you would have given up.” I’m shocked he’s hung around all day.

“Nope, told you, I was on watch all day. How was your day?”

“Busy,” I answer while reaching for my bag.

“What have you got goin’ on now?” he questions quietly, watching my every move.

“Just heading home.” I pull my hair up on my head.

“You want to get something to eat?” he asks.

“Eat?”

“Yeah, I’m starved. While we’re out, we may as well pick something up,” he shrugs, looking around the salon.

“I’m pretty tired. I was planning on a quiet night.”

“Okay, I’ll order us some takeout,” he suggests, completely ignoring my idea of a quiet night. “What do you like?”

“Umm, I was just going to have a glass of wine, a bath and go to bed,” I admit, and then cringe internally at the visual of it. Sy doesn’t respond. Instead, he stands before me; his dark stare now piercing into mine.

“You need to eat, Holly.”

“I’ll make something at home.” I lie, knowing I don’t have an appetite.

“I watched you all day today; you haven’t stopped. No arguing. I’ll order you some takeout. You ready?” he asks, ending all conversation of dinner and stopping me from replying.

“I’m capable of looking after myself, Sy.”

“Really? ‘Cause from where I’m standing, you’re not doing a good job. So, until you start, I’ll take over for you.”

“I don’t need taking care of. I’m doing an okay job, thank you,” I fight, knowing the words coming from my mouth are a lie. I can even hear it.

“Babe, your clothes are falling off you. As beautiful as you are, you look like shit,” he points out, and in that split second, the sadness that lives to bring me down falls over me again. The small reprieve I was feeling not five minutes ago, now feels fragile by his words. Just like me. “Don’t even think about it, Holly.” He steps forward into my space.

“Don’t what?”

“I’m not letting you get lost again. I’m not letting you become me.” His hand reaches for my face, but I pull back at his touch. “I’ve watched you. I’ve kept my distance, but I can’t do it anymore. I told you that night in the hospital. I won’t let you push me away.”

“Don’t push me, Sy,” I beg, knowing he’s my weakness.

“I'm not pushing. I’ve given you time for that to settle in. I think your time is up.”

“Sy—”

“Your act is not working for me. That smile you hide behind doesn’t fool me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I step out of his space, needing a moment to breathe.

“This perfected act of yours. You think you have everyone fooled.” He shakes his head. It’s a slow shake, which makes me forget the panic that’s rising. Slowly, anger takes its place.