Of course, thinking about Asaf led me to think about all the things I’d loved about my old life. My coach and his family, the training that had started as an outlet for my youthful anger and turned into a daily comfort, not unlike prayer. I thought of my home, my darkroom, and the camera that had been as much a part of me as another limb. Why couldn’t there have been, or still be, a merging of the two lives? And that thought led me back to Ben—

“…I mean, can you believe she said I was high-maintenance?”

Uh-oh. It was the first time Cher had stopped to ask me a question. Quickly, I thought, what would Olivia say? “That bitch.”

Cher drew back, looking at me blankly. Her pedicurist did the same. Mine stopped massaging the balls of my feet.

“What?”

“Did you just call my mother a bitch?”

“No! No.” Shit, I thought, and cleared my throat. “I thought you were still talking about the lingerie girl.”

“No, darlin’, my mother. But I told her that she was the one who was demanding. I mean, at least I can make my own appointments.”

I looked at her. “Do you really tell your mother everything?”

She raised a perfectly waxed brow. “You know I do.”

“It’s just I can’t imagine that,” I said, and leaned my head back in the cushioned chair. I thought about everything I’d learned of my mother lately. The truths that had been lies, the greatest lie being our lives together.

Cher placed a hand on my arm and, surprisingly, I didn’t shake it away. “Mama’s been asking about you, you know,” she said softly. “She has this idea of fixing you up with a—how did she put it?—‘a very well-to-do southern gentleman.’ She wants to know when you’re going to come by again.”

I fought off a full-body shudder and thought, Never.

“Of course you could avoid her blatant matchmaking attempts if you’d bring your own date,” she said, pausing. “That guy you were talking to looked like he might clean up well.”

“Ben? Not my type, and I’m definitely not his.”

“Olivia, honey, you are every man’s type.”

“Not Ben Traina’s. He was always into Joanna.”

To my surprise, Cher said, “Oh, that Ben! Well, I have to say, he didn’t look half as unhinged as people say. A little dangerous perhaps, but who doesn’t like a strong little chaser to wash things down. An ex-cop might fill that bill nicely.”

I glanced at her, too sharply, and looked away quickly, feigning interest in the color being applied to my toes. “What do you mean ‘ex’? He’s just taking some time off.”

Cher lifted a hand, studying her nails. “That’s not what they said on the tube, honey. And I don’t blame the department. You should’ve seen him at the funeral. He went absolutely apeshit. Attacked some poor, innocent man who was just offering him his condolences. We can’t have a guy like that patrolling our streets.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Poor? Innocent?”

Cher rolled her eyes. “Okay, so they did say the guy cheats at craps. Either way, I know what I heard. Ben Traina has been put on an indefinite leave of absence.”

“But he said—”

“But he lied. It happens with the mentally unstable.”

But he wasn’t mentally unstable. He happened to be right. And I, for one, wasn’t going to give up on him. I knew him. That boy who saw things as black and white, right or wrong, was still there. Besides, I was partly responsible for this…this transformation. Both of them, I decided. Both times.

“Ben’s different,” I muttered. “He’s been through a lot, and he never stopped caring for Joanna.”

“Well, don’t you think that’s precisely why he might go right on over the edge?”

I wanted to shake Cher so hard her teeth rattled.

Something of my thoughts must have shown in my face because her own softened. “Oh, don’t listen to me, honey. I have such bad luck with guys…what do I know?” she said, sighing. “I always look for the one thing that’ll make them run. Then I do everything I can to make sure they do.” She practically deflated on the next sigh, showing a vulnerability that surprised me.

I let the subject of Ben drop, filing it away for later. Like when the smell of bubble gum and acetone wasn’t coloring my every thought. “Maybe it’s because you don’t let them see the real you.”

“Darlin’, all of me is real,” she said in that haughty tone I used to hate.

This time I only snorted and leaned my head back into the neck rest. “Then maybe that’s the problem. Maybe all they see is boobs and hair and nails…oh, and a really great tan.”

“Thank you. I think.”

I smiled over at her. “I’m just saying. There’s a lot more to you than meets the eye.” And I was surprised to realize I meant it. “You just need to find someone who will look at your internal beauty first.”

“Really?” she asked softly.

“Of course, really.”

She lifted her chin. “You’re right. That would be my kind of hero, anyway…you know, when you were asking earlier? I’ve been thinkin’ about it, and I’ve decided I wouldn’t need someone from the pages of a comic book. He wouldn’t have to leap over buildings for me, or even surprise me with the latest designs from fashion week. I have a personal shopper for that. But if somebody would just…be there.”

“Girl, that ain’t a hero,” one of the nail techs put in. “That’s a prince.”

Cher tilted her head and thought about that for a moment. “You think Wills or Harry would be interested in a slightly experienced southern woman?”

We all laughed, but a small part of me sighed. Be there? Ben would have done that.

Later, as we lounged in the dressing area, now surrounded by a comfortable silence, Cher said, “Thanks for letting me take you out today, Livvy-girl. I’ve really missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too. This was…the most normal thing I’ve done in a long time.” I ran the back of my hand over my eyes, mortified to find myself close to tears. All this girly stuff was getting to me. I probably just needed to hit something.

“I’m sorry we argued before.”

“It was my fault,” I said, shaking my head. “You were right. I had shut down. Thank you for being a good enough friend to say something.”

On a sob, Cher opened her arms for a hug. Thrilled—it was an indisputable sign that I’d passed this test—I held open my arms too. I’d no more than taken two steps toward her when she gasped so violently I jumped and whirled to defend myself against…anything.

“What?” I said, whirling back. Then I realized she was pointing at my chest. “What?”

“You’re streaked! The bitch streaked you!”

I turned to the full-length mirror and looked for myself. Sure enough, there was a medium-sized white blotch right in the middle of my chest.

“Shit.” Would this have happened to Olivia?

“Now you don’t have an even, all-over tan!” Clearly more distraught than I was, Cher had tears rolling down her face. “You’re not going to look cute naked! Oh, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I said doubtfully. I wasn’t planning on anyone seeing me naked anyway. “How long did you say this stuff lasts?”

Cher wasn’t listening. She was moaning and cursing—delicately, of course—and pulling at her hair extensions. “I wanted this to be perfect!”

“It has been,” I assured her. “Really. I can’t think of the last time I’ve had this much fun.”

“Truly?” She sniffed, and stared at me through tearstained eyes.

I nodded. “This is the most fun I’ve ever had naked with another woman.”

“Except for that time in Cozumel.”

I’d puzzle that one out later.

“But now you have to wear turtlenecks for two whole weeks!”

Facing the mirror, I sighed. That answered that question.

“It’s not right!” Fresh tears welled in her eyes. “First you ruin your Louboutins and now you’re marked for life!”

“It’s not for—” I broke off, whirling to face the mirror again and looked closer. Marked.

“I think I’m faint,” Cher continued behind me. “I need a drink with something stronger than cucumbers in it.”