Mine To Honor (Southern Wedding Series Book 7) (Southern Weddings)
Mine To Honor: Chapter 1

I step out of the bathroom in my office, tucking the white T-shirt into the blue jeans I just slid on. The crash of the waves hitting the rocks fills my room, giving you a nice Zen feeling. If it isn’t waves playing in the background, it is the lull of the soft instruments. I make my way over to my desk at the same time my phone beeps on top of it. Looking down at my phone, I see I have a text from Levi.

Levi: Running a touch late, max five to ten minutes. Order me a beer.

I shake my head and roll my eyes at the same time, not surprised at all by this text. “Shocking,” I mumble to myself before picking the phone up as I slide one foot into my nude, sky-high shoes, then the other, until my feet pinch from being in the shoes.

Me: When am I ever not waiting for you?

I press send before tossing the phone into the purse that is on my chair. Levi and I have been friends for the past ten years, I met him through my cousin, who I had no idea I even had, also ten years ago. Needless to say, Levi and I, we just clicked. We had the same humor and found each other annoying, but not so annoyed we didn’t always text the other person. Either way, our friendship just grew and grew. He is one of, if not, my very best friend. There is nothing I can’t say and vice versa. Trust me, nothing is off-limits between us. The two of us get together at least once a week, if he’s not traveling for work, or every two weeks just to catch up. It was something we started after we went a whole month without seeing each other and we spent four hours catching up, and that was only for one week.

I walk over to one of the pink cushioned chairs facing my desk, picking up my long, black sweater. I slide my arms into it and push the sleeves up to my elbows. Turning toward the mirror that hangs by the door, I take one long look at myself before I head out to meet him.

My tight, light-blue jeans mold my legs with a white V-neck T-shirt. Simple, casual, and with the red-bottom shoes, a little bit classy and very, very sassy. Very different from how I walked into the salon this morning, wearing the black-pants-and-top uniform everyone wears in my business, with the name of the salon stitched on the right side. I tuck the right side of my brown hair behind my ear and see the wave I did this morning quickly after I walked in, is still holding up. “It pays to own your place.” I smile to myself. Leaning forward, I see that the makeup is still lasting, even after eight hours of being at work. “The tricks you learn from your trade.” I smirk as I take a big inhale before I grab my bag off the chair and head out of my office, closing the door behind me. The door to my left is open and some of the washers are going in the laundry room. I stick my head in to see if anyone is there, but it’s empty.

To my right, the lights in the hallway to the men’s and women’s bathrooms are dim, and music plays softly in the background.

As I walk down the hallway to the front of the salon, the music gets louder and is very different from the back. It’s today’s hits and it’s upbeat. Even the lights are different from the spa area, where it’s dimly lit in the back. Here in the front, it’s like the more lights the better.

My shoes clicking on the tile floor fill the empty room as I look around to see all six hairdressing seats empty, my reflection following with me as I walk through the room. I hear voices coming from the color area and stop to stick my head in when I see Keira and Chloe are both in there, cleaning up after the day. “See you two tomorrow.” I smile at them as I wave with the tips of my fingers. I pass by the men’s hair station, seeing Saverio and Isabelle both sweeping their stations. Black leather barber chairs face full-length mirrors. “Night, guys,” I say and they both look up and smile.

It takes me a couple of more steps to walk out into the waiting room. This is one of my favorite rooms in the place. I knew what I was going to do. I wanted it to be warm and welcoming, so I stuck to the neutral tones with, of course, pink, because everyone secretly likes pink, and if they tell you otherwise, they are just plain bald-faced lying to you. Raquel, our receptionist and office coordinator, sits behind the white rounded desk that is facing the glass door when you walk in. Behind her is a brown, tan, and beige wall with exposed bricks. A huge crystal vase with fresh light pink roses sits at the corner of the counter. “I was just coming to see you.” She looks up from her desk, her blond hair tied in a ponytail high in the middle of her head. “Here you go.” She lifts her hand holding a green mesh bag. “This is the deposit for tomorrow.”

I walk toward her desk. “You’re a lifesaver,” I praise. “I was going to come in early tomorrow morning and do it, but now I get to sleep in until six forty-five.” I glance over to the right, through the open wall that shows the little café we added this year. The tables and chairs are all clean and ready for the next day. Moving my head a bit to the side, I see past the café into the nail part of the salon. Three people sit side by side as they get their nails done, conversations flowing. I can’t help but smile when I take a look around at what I’ve done here.

“Also.” She gets up from her chair. “I just checked the calendar, and I’m happy to announce we are booked solid for the next six months.”

“For real?” I believe it, but also don’t believe it. “That’s amazing. Thank you, by the way.” She tilts her head. “If it wasn’t for you, we would be all over the place. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I look up and see the name that I came up with. It took me so many months of throwing names around. Literally going word by word in the dictionary until I got to the word—Envy Spa & Salon—and as usual, I can’t help but smile. In reality, I wanted to be the envy of all spas out there, and looking around, I really hope I am.

“I will be here,” she confirms, and I turn to walk toward the front door, passing two pink chairs with a fake but very expensive cherry blossom tree between them. Looking over my shoulder one last time, I smile at her, holding up my hand and wiggling my fingers.

My car is parked on the side, chirping crickets in the air fill the night. The wind softly blows my hair as I make my way from the commercial building to my car. Grabbing the keys, I unlock the doors, sliding into the driver’s seat and placing my purse in the seat beside me. Turning the car on, I buckle myself in, looking back at what hard work has gotten me.

When I was sixteen, I got a job at a hairdresser in town, washing hair and sweeping it up. But I was always more interested in the back of the salon where they did skin facials and waxing. After a year in the salon, I got to work more with Sandra, who did all waxing, peeling, and everything that had to do with the skin. I soaked it in, and I was good at it, so right out of high school, I opted to forgo college and head straight to aesthetician school.

School just made me even better than I was. I was at the top of my class, so when it was time for my internship, they sent me to the best salon there was out there. I meshed well with the owner, and when I got my hours in and graduated, she offered me a job. I jumped at the chance, especially since it was in a nice area and the clients were high-paying and high-tipping. A year later, I asked if I could rent space in her salon instead of working for her. She was apprehensive at first, but she wasn’t getting any younger, and none of her daughters even wanted to work with her. So that is how it started. I rented my space, and slowly, little by little, I worked up to afford to hire someone under me. It was a considerable risk, but I was putting my money on myself. It was amazing until the owner passed away, and her daughters decided to close up shop. I took out a small business loan and bought the building from them. Most of the hairdressers stayed and rented their chairs from me. It took five years of busting my ass to make it to where we were, one of the most sought-after salons. I hired the best hair color people. I hired a couple of massage therapists and even had makeup on the weekends. It exploded when we were featured in a bridal magazine.

Then last year I found this building for sale, but it would be really tight. Especially since I had just bought my house, but I ran the numbers and figured it would be doable. It was a one-stop shop, we set up spa days—complete with hair and makeup—which was our biggest seller. Last month, I finally put in the café and it was a hit. People who would come and do their hair or nails could stop and get a bite to eat with a friend. It couldn’t have been going any better and I was so proud of myself.

I mean, no one else was proud of me, so I had no choice but to give myself a pat on the back. My mother was always in and out of my life. She, in her words, couldn’t be tied down. She had to see the world, spread her wings, which she did multiple times. I didn’t even know who my father was. I’m not sure my mother knew, but she pretended she did. He was so handsome, every single time she would pop in for a visit—which wasn’t frequent—she would tell me stories about him. In the beginning, I would sit and listen intently until I think I turned eight, and I learned early on not to believe anything she told me.

My grandmother is the one who raised me, and lucky for me. She lasted until I was eighteen years old and she knew I would be able to take care of myself. I believe that she finally let go and passed away in her sleep. Six months after my grandmother died, so did my mother.

I was literally all alone, and then one day I saw this advertisement online about tracing my ancestries. Why not, I thought, what is the worst that can happen? So as I was swabbing my inner cheek, I never expected the results. I matched with a family in Greece, that didn’t shock me since my mother mentioned meeting a man in Santorini with the bluest eyes, which is apparently where I got my blue eyes from.

It was the strangest thing to go from being all alone to then having over twelve connections of close family members, on the other side of the world. I wasn’t sure if I should reach out to them, but they reached out to me. They were both shocked and happy to replace me. More shocked than anything for sure. Unfortunately for me, my father had passed on the year before from cancer. Right after I found that out, I got a phone call from Stefano, who was—of course—forced by his family to reach out to me. We were shocked to replace we were in the same state, so we decided to meet up. All it took was one time and his father and mother came down to meet me. His father was my father’s nephew and he and his family have been very, very nice to me. They’ve included me all the time. It’s a little bit weird but I’ve attended a couple of functions, of course bringing Levi with me since he knew them also.

The phone ringing makes me come out of my daydream. I look at the Bluetooth and see it’s Levi calling.

“You’d better not be canceling on me.” I don’t even bother saying hello.

His laughter fills the car. “Would I do that?”

“Yes,” I immediately answer him. “You would and you have.”

“Never.” He gasps but doesn’t stop chuckling.

“There was that leggy brunette who you pegged as soon as we got into the restaurant the last time and you bailed after appetizers,” I remind him.

“She was in town for the night,” he snaps in his defense, “she was a nanny.”

I can’t help but laugh now. “She was not a nanny. She showed you a random picture. I asked her how old the kids were and she said, ‘Um, about three to four months old.’ The kid was walking.”

“She was confused.” He tries to plead her case, and I roll my eyes as I pull up next to his Mercedes. “English wasn’t her first language.”

“I’m about to be confused right now and bail on your ass,” I remark, looking at him. He turns his head, and his face fills with a smile. He disconnects and leans over to grab his suit jacket before getting out of his car. His cuffs are rolled up to his elbows. On his left hand is the silver Rolex with the black-braided bracelet I got him for Christmas last year, and he holds his jacket in his other hand. He walks around the back of my car and opens my door.

“And they say chivalry is dead.” I laugh as I lean over and grab my purse before shutting off the car. He holds out his hand for me to grab it, but I smack it away. “I don’t even know where that hand has been.”

“I just got back,” he huffs, putting his hand in his pocket as he watches me get out of the car.

Even with my heels, I still have to tilt my head back. “Hi,” I greet him, going in for a hug.

“Oh, you can hug me, but you can’t take my hand.” He wraps an arm around my shoulder.

“I’m assuming when you had sex you were naked, so technically your clothes are safe.” I step back, and my face goes into a grimace. “Eww, unless you did it in the bathroom.”

“Jesus, Ev.” He calls me by a nickname he gave me one day when he was hungover and found it impossible to say two syllables. “I’m thirty years old, I think I have enough sex self-control that I can wait to get to a bed.”

I fold my arms over my chest. “Six months ago, you were getting head in your car.”

His head drops. “Forgot about that one.”

“I bet you did,” I tease as we turn to walk toward the restaurant.

He holds up his hand. “But foreplay isn’t sex.”

I roll my eyes because, of course, he would be the one who would replace a loophole in anything, “I’m surprised you can squeeze me in with all those ladies.”

He puts his arm around my shoulders. “You know, I always make time for you, Eva,” he assures me as we walk into the crowded restaurant. “Now.” He playfully shoves me away. “Get away from me in case I see someone who might come home with me tonight.”