Page 301 of The Havenport Collection

He led me toward the center of the room. “You are the guest of honor. Are you ready to really get this party started?”

He gestured up at the stage where Nora had a microphone, waiting to begin the auction. She looked official, holding a clipboard, while Matteo and some others set up salon chairs on the stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Nora began, brushing down the skirt of her pink flare dress.

“Welcome to the first annual Havenport head-shaving party to support breast cancer research. For those of you who did not get the Facebook invite, tonight we will be auctioning off the right to shave the heads of some very wonderful local volunteers who are donating their hair to charity. For the right price, you can be the one to clip their locks. All proceeds will benefit breast cancer research in support of our own Sam Sullivan.”

Everyone turned and looked at me. Normally I would feel embarrassed, but I stood up and waved.

As much as I wanted to go home and go to bed, these people had all come out for me and for people like me, and several of them were even willing to shave their heads.

How could I ever repay such kindness and generosity?

I sat down quickly, feeling the tears already streaming down my cheeks.

“So get your wallets ready, people, because there are some folks here you will not want to miss!”

“First on the auction block will be Mr. Wilds, the Havenport Elementary physical education teacher.”

The kids started clapping and screaming when their teacher, a sporty-looking man in his early fifties, took the stage.

Nora started the bidding and, unsurprisingly, Valentina’s third-grade class won.

Mr. Wilds sat in Dante’s chair, and everyone cheered as his salt-and-pepper hair fell to the floor.

Then, Mr. Wilds jumped off the stage and immediately starting posing for photos with his students, making funny faces and giving high fives.

Nora announced the next few people. I was so touched they were shaving their heads, especially Mrs. Young, who had beautiful thick black hair.

Dante braided and cut it to preserve it for donation before her daughter-in-law did the honors, looking a little too enthusiastic with the clippers.

“Ladies,” Nora crooned, “buckle up. Our next volunteer has some of the most luscious locks in the town of Havenport. Please welcome Declan Quinn to the stage.”

Someone behind me started whistling, and I turned to see Astrid. “I am so winning this auction,” she said, rubbing her hands together. “No one touches my man’s head but me!”

She pushed her way to the front, ready to fight for her man, and I laughed.

Astrid was just one of many fascinating people I had met since coming back here.

In another life, a life where I stayed here, we would probably become close friends, and I could see us drinking wine and planning world domination together.

So it was especially shocking when she didn’t win. She was outbid by police officer Marcus Flint.

Dante cut off most of Declan’s hair to preserve it for donation, then handed the clippers to Marcus.

Declan—now sporting a silly cheekbone-length cut but still making it look broody and dangerous—glared at Marcus.

“What is going on?” I asked Gio, who had his arm around me.

“They hate each other, have hated one another since high school. I can’t believe Flint is going to cut Declan’s famous hair.”

Astrid was fuming as Marcus gently pushed the clippers down the center of Declan’s head, effectively giving him a reverse mohawk.

Declan’s two brothers, Liam and Callum, were in the front row, snapping photos of their embarrassed middle brother.

Marcus did a haphazard job, leaving some patches, and generally looked like he was having the time of his life.

And when he was done, he offered his hand to Declan, who shook it warmly. Astrid immediately rushed up on the stage, laying a large kiss on Declan’s lips, making the crowd cheer.

“That bastard still looks good,” Gio mumbled.

I nudged him with my hip. “Not as good as you will look.”

“You going to bid on me?”

I smiled. “I just might.”

“Good. Because I don’t want any other woman’s hands on me. Only yours.” He grabbed my hand and squeezed, and I felt the most delicious warmth spread throughout my body. This was the power of Gio. He made me feel so protected, so cared for, and so desired.

Stop. You don’t need protection; you take care of yourself. I dropped his hand, not wanting to make things weird, and busied myself chatting with the people standing nearby.

Finally, Gio and Matteo were called. Apparently, the twins were being auctioned off as a pair.

Nonna Rossi won, pumping her fists triumphantly as she took the stage.

Gio never flinched while his thick, wavy hair was shaved.

Not for a second. He stared only at me, never breaking eye contact.

And I was hit by a startling realization.

This man is going to take care of you whether you like it or not.

He’s never stopping. He’s never leaving. He is in it for the long haul.

I was the last to go, taking the stage to loud and raucous cheers. Dante draped a bright pink cape around me and whispered into my ear, “You are a stone-cold badass.”

I smiled as I removed my baseball cap, and he began to work.

The clippers were loud, drowning out the No Doubt playing on the sound system. I sat in the chair and surveyed the community of people who had rallied around me tonight.

People who donated time and money, people who shaved their heads, and people who came over to me to offer hugs and meals and encouragement.

I was overwhelmed. I had spent most of my adult life rejecting attachments like these, scoffing at the suggestion that I needed support and community around me.

But tonight I saw that bullshit for what it was. Lies I told myself in the name of self-preservation. Stories concocted in my brain to guard against the loneliness that had consumed me over the past five years.

And instead of anger or fear or hesitation, I just embraced it. I soaked up all the cheers and hugs and kindness. I closed my eyes and let gratitude wash over me.

Yes, maybe I was sitting on a stage getting my head shaved, and yes, I would probably spend the night puking my guts up. But I felt better than I had in a long time.

When I opened myself up to the kindness and support of this community, I felt it in my bones. I would carry it with me to the next infusion, and the next bout of sickness. I would carry this moment with me into surgery and radiation and whatever else life would throw at me.

When Dante finished, my mom rushed forward to take a photo of me, then gestured for Gio to join in.

He ran his hands over both of our shaved heads and laughed before throwing an arm around me and smiling for the camera.

And I smiled too, genuinely happy for the love I was able to experience tonight. And genuinely terrified about my feelings for the man who made it all happen.