“Cleopatra Isabella Martinez!” Molly pointed her pizza crust at Cleo. “You can’t lie to me, you’ve been learning the game. At fucking last. I’m a proud mama bear right now.”
If looks could kill, Cleo’s laser-glare would have struck Molly dead where she sat. Molly ignored the scowl and waved her crust again before dunking it into a small tub of ranch dip. “Does this mean I won’t have to bribe you to come to games anymore? ‘Cause I’m totally here for that.”
Cleo groaned. “I read up on the basics. I figured if my boyfriend plays I should probably at least know which end of the stick he’s supposed to be holding.”
Finn swallowed a mouthful of food. “I mean, not to be pedantic or anything, but I’m pretty sure he prefers when you hold his stick.”
Linc leaned over behind Will to smack a chuckling Finn upside the head. Finn held up his hands. “Just sayin’… and you can’t tell me I’m wrong, either.”
Weaving his hands into Cleo’s thick, shiny tresses, he rubbed her scalp. She leaned into him, tilting her head back. Bending over, careful not to tip the pizza box on his leg, he kissed her temple. “I can’t put into words how grateful I am right now. Thank you.”
She cast a glance over her shoulder, cheeks still red.
“Good for you, Zelda. Learning the game. That’s a pretty big gesture.” Russ burst open a share-sized bag of Lays and offered them around.
“I figured if he could readPride and Prejudice, I could read the rules of the game he’s loved since he was a kid.”
“You know what this means, don’t you?”
Everyone turned to face Molly.
“Hockey wedding!”
Cleo
“Are you sure about this?” The stranger moved the adjustable light over top of Cleo to get a better view.
She nodded, though her stomach was in knots. “I’m sure.”
“Which size?”
She pointed to the middle one.
“And where do you want it?”
Running her finger along the space under her wrist, she frowned before nodding. “Here, please.”
“Did you tell your mom you were doing this?” Linc tucked a stray lock of her hair behind her ear.
“This is my spreading-my-wings moment, Lincoln. Telling them about it first kinda defeats the purpose, don’t you think?”
“Your girl’s got a point, man.” The tattoo artist plonked onto the stool next to Cleo’s seat and placed the template over her skin. “Here?”
She moved his hand half an inch to the left. “Hmmm… no, here, off center.”
He nodded and lowered the stencil to her skin. “You ready?”
Sucking in a smooth, deep breath, she flexed her fingers. “I’m ready.”
The artist had designed a stack of four books with a steaming cup of tea on top. She’d opted not to get it big enough that you could see names on the spine, but both she and Linc knew if she had,Pride and Prejudicewould be top of the book stack.
Much to her surprise, the artist had already started. The needle made barely any noise and was more irritating than painful. Getting a tattoo was something she’d always wanted, but never been brave enough to do.
Mamá would hate it.
Lincoln had been not only supportive of her idea, but encouraged it wholeheartedly. He’d sat with her for hours while she scrolled Pinterest boards, searching for the perfect bookish tattoo.
Forty-five minutes later, she was done and standing on the sidewalk, hand folded into Lincs, wondering what the fuss was about. She had to laugh at her past self for being so anxious. In a strange way, she felt liberated, as though this day was the first of her new life, her own life. A better life.
