“He’s going to tell the court he wants to keep me forever,” Naomi cuts in, a huge grin on her face. Julian, who had opened his mouth to respond, shuts it abruptly.
“Yeah. That.”
“Really? Oh my gosh! That’s fantastic,” I say, clapping my hands and leaning down to her.
“Yeah, it will take a few months and we have to have an interview and someone has to come to our house. Oh and we have to go to actual court, but after that, it will be official,” Naomi continues in an animated voice.
I turn to Julian who shrugs. “Yeah, she’s pretty much got the gist of it.”
His eyes dig into mine, pulling at my heart with an array of unspoken messages, but we’re broken apart when Naomi grabs my hand and drags me toward the building.
“Come on. I’ll show you the song I’m working on for the showcase,” she says. “Uncle J, do you have a guitar I can borrow?”
“I think we can probably track one down,” he calls out, still rooted in the same spot on the walkway.
I glance back to catch his tired smile as he watches us.
Julian wraps up the recording session around 3:30 so he can get to his meeting. I tell Viv I’ll need the rest of the day as well for Naomi. Turns out, Viv had plans with Oliver anyway.
“So what do you want to do? Watch a movie? Play some music?” I ask Naomi once we’re strapped into my car. She doesn’t respond, and I look in my rearview mirror. There’s a pink hue to her cheeks, and her hands twist nervously in her lap.
“What is it?” I ask, turning in my seat to face her.
She looks away. “Actually, I was wondering. Could you maybe… take me shopping?” Her eyes dart to me, uncertain and hopeful at the same time.
“Sure, we can do that. For music stuff?”
She shakes her head. “No, like… for clothing. Something for the showcase?” She traces a pattern on the seat. “Something that’s not black.”
Wow. I try to keep my expression neutral as I force a smile. “Of course. I know the perfect place.”
She blinks and reaches up to tug her hair like Julian does. So cute. Except her eyes change again, and I sense there’s more. “What is it, Naomi? You can talk to me.”
She clears her throat and looks away. “Yeah. It’s just that… maybe we could go to a salon and fix my hair too?”
Startled, I study the blond roots peeking out from her raven black hair. “Fix it?”
“Yeah, I…” Her teeth sink into her lip as she returns to the stitching on the seat. “For the showcase. Maybe it should be my natural color. You know, so the judges know it’s me and… I don’t know. It’s stupid.” She shakes her head and pulls her hand back to her lap.
“It’s not stupid,” I say softly. “Let me make a few calls and see what we can do on short notice.”
“Really?” Her eyes brighten into giant green orbs. Gosh, she’s adorable. I’m reminded of another person whose eyes give everything away no matter how hard he fights it.
“Really. If that’s what you want, we’ll make it happen,” I say matter-of-factly. “I make things happen for a living.”
Bam.
Hang on…
I do, don’t I. I’m not just an assistant. I’m the woman who makes things happen. Take that, Crawfords.
I return Naomi’s grin and scroll through my contacts.
Thanks to my role with Viv, I know a lot of people when it comes to hair and clothes. It only takes a few calls to find a salon willing to accommodate an emergency client as a favor to me, and we hit the stores first while we wait for her appointment. I hope Julian isn’t expecting us home anytime soon, because this is going to be a long afternoon.
For a girl whose world revolves around one color, I’m surprised by the drastic shift in her tastes. She shook off the grays and black patterned options I presented to ease her in a new direction and gravitated right to a rack of colorful sweaters. I keep my opinions to myself as she loads up my arms, especially when, with each layer she adds to the pile, another seems to lift from her being.
She’s like a different girl when she comes out of the dressing room, and I think back to the photo above her bed. The change isn’t in the clothes, it’s in the brightness on her face when she looks at herself in the mirror. Like a part of her is going free again after being locked up and hidden.
Her hair appointment is even more dramatic. She looks nervous the entire time the stylist strips her color and uses toner and highlights to help her natural color grow in more seamlessly. She isn’t able to get it back to blond in one appointment, but it’s considerably lighter—and shorter—by the time we leave two hours later.
“Do you like it?” she asks hesitantly once we’re in the car. She tugs on the ends of her new locks that now land just past her shoulder.
“I love it, but the important thing is, do you like it?”
She stares at the ceiling for a second before her face lights up with a smile. “Yeah, I do. Can we go home now? I want to show Uncle Julian.”
“Of course. He texted me an hour ago saying he was home and wondering where we were. Don’t worry. I told him to be patient and mind his own business.” I don’t mention the other cryptic message that triggered the old fire in me. Something about wanting to talk to me regarding an event tonight that sounded suspiciously like a date.
“Good,” Naomi quips. “He’s so nosy sometimes.”
I smirk as I back out of the space and pull onto the street.
We don’t talk much on the drive home. I’m not surprised, given the drastic transformation she’s just undergone. It must be a lot for her to process, and my heart hurts thinking about the other transformation that happened sometime after that photo with her mom was taken.
Her expression dims further the closer we get to our apartment building. I check on her in the rearview mirror a few times, but she’s always gazing out the window with a troubled look on her face. By the time we pull into our parking space and take the elevator to the third floor, she’s pale and clenching her fists at her side. I rest my hand on her shoulder, and she flinches like I’ve startled her. She must have been lost in her head.
“You’ve got this,” I say as we hover outside their door.
She pulls in a deep breath, straightening like she’s bracing herself. She nods, but the way she fidgets with the hem of her sweater tells a different story. We bought several bags of clothing, and she insisted on wearing something pink or green for the big reveal. She chose an oversized lime green sweater and trendy ripped skinny jeans. I love how the green fabric makes her light green eyes glow in her face.
“You look amazing, Naomi. He’s gonna love it.”
I squeeze her arm, and she chews on her lip again, staring at the door handle for another second. Finally, she reaches for it with a trembling hand. I rest mine on her back.
“He’s going to love it,” I repeat quietly as she pushes it open.
Julian is at the small table in their breakfast nook, pouring over a pile of papers when we enter. “Hey. How was—” He drops the pen he was holding. “Naomi?” he whispers.
She clenches her hands behind her back and nods, watching him shyly.