I lift my chin. “Make me a new woman.”

***

After leaving the salon, I spend the rest of the walk home spying on my reflection in every shop window I pass. I barely recognize myself. Jiang—the genius hairstylist—basically turned me into Jaimie Alexander’s secret twin sister. Think Nina Dobrev from the pilot episode of The Vampire Diaries to the series finale makeover. Only my new cut is shorter and more radical.

And so bouncy, and so fresh, and so not me.

As I unlock my apartment door, my phone pings with a new text. I drop my bag on the counter, take out the phone, and sag on the couch, exhausted.

What a day!

My fingers are so cold from my stroll around Manhattan that when I try to unlock the phone, the touchscreen almost doesn’t recognize them as warm, human flesh. Only after I blow hot air on my fingertips and swipe twice more does it work, and I can read the text.

It’s from Blair, my best friend and roommate.

Sorry I haven’t been home in forever

I’ll be there in a few minutes

Are you in?

Just got here

Great

I have some big news

Bought champagne to celebrate

Champagne? Oh gosh, she’s getting married, too. Richard proposed. I try to summon some altruistic joy, but I can’t. There’s only one thought drilling through my skull: I’m going to be single forever and die alone.

Just like that, out of nowhere, the tears come. My chest and shoulders spasm with body-wrenching sobs, and I don’t seem to be able to stop the flood.

The frustration, the pain… the bitter jealousy, for my sister, for my best friend… they all come out in a downpour. Oh, gosh, I’m a horrible person who doesn’t deserve love. Why would anyone love me? I’m dark and grumpy and stubborn—simply, utterly unlovable.

That’s how Blair finds me a few minutes later: a sobbing, self-loathing mess sprawled on the couch.

“Oh my gosh, Nikki.” She rushes into the living room, coat still on, dropping a bottle of bubbly on the coffee table, where she sits. “Are you okay?”

I try to speak, but it’s difficult when you’re crying as hard as I am, so I only shake my head.

Blair does a double take and points at my face, shocked. “Your hair—it’s gone! Are you crying about the haircut?”

“Noooooooo,” I wail. “S-should I be c-crying about it?”

“No, no!” Blair jumps in to reassure me. “I love it like this! But it’s a big transformation… I thought maybe you did it on the spur of the moment, then changed your mind. Is that it?”

I shake my head again.

“So what is it?”

After a few deep breaths, I speak the unspeakable. “Julia and Paul are engaged.”

Blair doesn’t respond. She removes her coat, kicks off her shoes, and slides onto the couch next to me, taking me into her arms. She pets me and cuddles me as I tell her everything: the lunch at Big Mama, the announcement, Jules’ stupid doubts, my lone walk through the streets of Manhattan, and the hair salon.