“Absolutely,” he replied and then choked out another laugh. “Especially when you have champagne bubbles coming out of your nose.” “Oh, fuck right off,” I snapped, grabbing a pillow from behind my back and smacking him over the head with it. “I did the best I could with your hair,” he added. “But I’ve never washed hair as long as yours before, so if I screwed up, don’t hold it against me.” My heart squeezed. “You washed my hair?” “I sort of had to,” he replied. “You sprayed your ponytail with chunks, too.” “Oh god.”
