The lights around us dimmed. Mike gave cues to the staff about angles and shots he wanted.

I took her hand and stepped into the darkness.

Chapter Four

SYDNEY

Merlot red.

I stared at myself in the hallway bathroom mirror at Tori’s house, running my fingers through the ends of my freshly washed and dried hair.

The color wasn’t spot on to my natural shade, but it was pretty damn close to it. As close as I was probably going to get doing a boxed hair dye kit at home.

It was vibrant. Bold and edgy.

I was slightly nervous I could even pull off this hair color anymore. It had been a long time.

In an attempt to find the person I was supposed to be now, my post-Marcus self, or pre-Marcus self, considering I was looking for the woman I had left behind and lost along the way, I decided a radical change was in order. Something I could make happen immediately. And while twirling a lock of my hair around my finger as I scrolled through online job postings earlier today, it hit me.

Red.

That was definitely something radical.

It had been nine years since I’d let my natural hair color shine.

Being a typical fifteen-year-old girl and wanting to copy everything my best friend was doing, at the time, I had started highlighting my hair right along with Tori. Then I highlighted it again. And again, repeating this ritual every four weeks until there wasn’t much trace of natural shade left in my tresses, which turned out to be a good thing considering how vocal Marcus was on liking blondes when he transferred to my high school junior year and, more specifically, on liking my hair blond and no other color.

He expressed this opinion the day I showed him a picture of me as a kid, my red hair falling wild around me since I didn’t like having it brushed much back then, mainly because my mother was rough about it and didn’t bother spraying detangler on my hair before taking a comb to it.

I have thin hair, and a lot of it. Always have. It needs detangler.

Marcus took one look at that photo, shook his head, then handed it back to me, ordering, “Keep it blond, Syd. I’m not dating a ginger.”

And that was that.

Well, not anymore.

I paused my online job searching, dashed to the nearest CVS, and scanned the boxes of L’Oréal hair dye, grabbing the one closest to my natural shade and also picking up a couple cute hair accessories while I was in there, purchasing them because along with disliking red hair, Marcus also turned his nose up at hair accessories, which kept me from wearing cute little clips with dainty fabric flowers and gorgeous turquoise head wraps.

Until now.

Now I was wondering if I’d gone a little too far.

But I was wondering this while smiling at myself in the mirror, thinking my reaction was a normal one for someone who had kept their true ginger self hidden for nine years.

I’d get used to it. It would just take a day or two.

And the color was truly beautiful. I couldn’t deny that.

After cleaning up the mess in the bathroom and making sure I left it as immaculate as it was before I went all radical in there, I made myself some hot chocolate and returned to the bedroom I’d chosen out of the two available in Tori’s house.

This one had a window facing the ocean. I’d never pass up a view like that.

I grabbed my laptop off the desk and carried it to the bed, careful of the steaming beverage in my hand as I maneuvered into a cross-legged position with my back against the pillows, placing the laptop in front of me and waking the screen. I blew the steam across the top of the mug and resumed scrolling for job opportunities in the area.

There wasn’t a lot of scrolling. Pickings were slim.

I was sipping my hot chocolate and changing the header font on my résumé to something whimsical and completely unprofessional when I heard footsteps in the hallway, lifted my head, and saw Tori filling my doorway with her mouth agape.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered.

I gripped my mug tighter and sat up straight.

“What?”

Her cherry-painted lips curled up, then she jumped into the room and clapped her hands repeatedly in front of her, shrieking, “I love it! I love it! I love it!”

“You love what?”

“Your hair, dummy,” she clarified, stepping closer with her finger pointed at me. “I always loved you as a redhead. Rock on, sister! How long has it been? Freshman year?”

I smiled. It felt good having my best friend’s much-appreciated approval, and it stripped away that tiny shred of doubt I was holding on to regarding my radical decision.

“Sophomore,” I corrected her, sliding my laptop beside me and stretching my legs out. “I would’ve gone back sooner to the red, I think, if it weren’t for Marcus’s strong dislike for it. I was tired of the blond. Plus, it was really damaging to my hair, all that bleach. This,” I said, tugging at a lock, “won’t need to be maintained as much. And it’s all silky now. Feel.”

Tori took the three steps to reach me and moved her hand through the ends of my hair.

“Sweet,” she murmured, plopping down beside my legs and smiling softly. “I’m going to be supportive and ask if you’ve found another job yet. Though, know this, I’m kinda hoping it takes you a few months and we get to kick ass at Whitecaps together for more than five seconds.”

Tori was always flat-out honest with me, all the time. I appreciated it.

I laughed and slid my hand to the laptop, tapping it once.

“I only found one so far and it was posted eight months ago. Doesn’t look good. You might get your wish.”

“Shame,” she said, a smile in her voice even though she kept her face indifferent. She bent her knee and rested her leg on the bed, asking, “You speak to him yet?”

Him being Marcus. There was no other him in my life, even though I had engaged in conversation yesterday with the man I’d accidentally ripped into two nights ago. It certainly didn’t mean I had another “him” in my life. Though if I’m being honest, it was nice being texted back all the same.

But Tori didn’t know anything about that, so she most certainly wasn’t referring to Brian.

I shook my head, then dropped it back against the headboard.

“Still?” She appeared shocked.

“Not a word.”

Her one hand curled into a fist.

“Bastard. What the hell? He doesn’t care to know where you are?”

“Where would I be besides here?” I asked, shining a light on what was, in my mind, the obvious explanation for Marcus’s silence.

Tori’s mouth grew tight. She knew I couldn’t go to my mom’s place. She knew all about my mother and our nonexistent relationship.

Marcus knew, too. Still, he couldn’t reach out and make sure I’d arrived safely?

“Right,” she replied, studying her nails. “Well, you are always welcome here. You know that, hon.”

It felt good hearing that, and Tori was right. I did know. But I didn’t dwell on that good feeling because I was now grasping for an explanation as to why the man I’d married no longer gave a shit about me or my whereabouts.

It hurt. Marcus was the last person I wanted to talk to but, strangely enough, the one person I needed to hear from the most.

“Are you going to call him?”