She laughs, moving closer to him. Her arms are draped around him now, their faces inches apart. “Fine, let me do something else. There’s no quota on good deeds. Let me take care of you by spoiling you with all my luxurious riches I managed to fit into two suitcases,” she says, nodding toward them. “The third one is for shoes.”

“How?”

“We’re going to have a spa day.”

No Malcolm. No Summer.

Just her and Fox.

Twenty

Joy stands in front of him, pulling at her bottom lip while she considers where to start. “Facial,” she decides. “Do you want clips or a headband?” She holds up both for him.

“Clips, I guess,” Fox says. “This is interesting.”

Joy pins his hair back, careful not to use too much tension. “Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m asking you to.” When he does, she adds, “Tilt your head back. Hold still.”

“What are you going to— OW!”

Joy plucks a second eyebrow hair, and his eyes snap open. “Shh, shh,” she whispers, climbing on top of him to keep him still. “Just let me help them a little. A good clean brow can do wonders for your face.” She doesn’t wait for him to respond and continues working, while watching for any indication that he doesn’t want her there on his lap.

“Why are you so obsessed with my eyebrows?” He flinches instead of yells, and glares at her to hurry up.

She moves as quickly as she can without getting too tweezer-happy. She doesn’t want to alter them too much, they have character after all, but she does disconnect them from his hairline and define his arch.

“I can’t believe you do this,” he says.

“You shouldn’t because I don’t. I get my brows microbladed.”

“What’s that?”

Joy explains the process to him. “Are you looking at my brows?”

“Yeah, since you pointed them out.”

“Want to know my deepest, darkest beauty secret?” She grins and then whispers, “I have a unibrow. It’s not super thick but it’ll grow in if I’m not vigilant.”

He scoffs. “My condolences.”

“Thanks. Lots of people look amazing with a unibrow. Unfortunately, that’s just not in the cards for me. All done.” She smooths his brows out with her thumbs, slowly, to soothe him. “I have a cooling face mask that’ll help prevent irritation as well as pay some attention to your pores.” Between her expert fingers, the stiff gel warms into a viscous paste that smells like cucumber and mint. She drops small dollops of it along his T-zone, over his cheeks, and on his chin. “You have good skin,” she says. “And you’re being a very good sport about this.”

Fox closes his eyes as she takes her time massaging the planes of his face in sections with small circular patterns.