“Uh, no,” she replied unconvincingly.
My brow lifted, as if to call bullshit. But April was still staring after the women. Sensing there was a bit more, I stepped closer, and noticed how she absently touched a small spot on her wrist.
“Wanna get one?”I half joked.
April’s cheeks flamed.“Sort of. I’ve always wanted one.”
“Why haven’t you?”
She let out a long breath, staring at the girls instead of me, when she answered, “My mom.”
“Your mom?”I repeated, like it was absurd. A grown woman was worried about her mom. “It’s not like you’re a teenager or need your parents’ permission.”
“You’ve met her?” She snorted.
“True. Your mom is intense.”
“Yup. She’d made it very clear how she felt about it when I first floated the idea past her on my twenty-first birthday. She told me she would never forgive me.”
“I doubt that.”
“You don’t know her that well. Besides, I’d asked what the big deal was and you know what her stupid-ass answer was?” She hesitated, almost as if she didn’t want to say it out loud.
“No, but I’m curious.”
“She told me that if I ever got married and that’s what she saw in the wedding photos, she would light them on fire.”
“Wait, what?”
“Ridiculous, isn’t it?”
“A little.” I grimaced, not knowing how to respond. Seriously, a wedding photo? It seemed a little extreme to me.
“What’s even more ridiculous is that I’ve used that as an excuse not to get one! It’s not even like I have a boyfriend, or a prospective one, let alone marriage. And yet, it’s all that rings throughout my head anytime I stop and stare through the window, debating on doing it or not. Ultimately, I chicken out.”
“I think you should get one,” I whispered to her.
“But I can’t,” she stuttered.
“Of course, you can.”
Her face lit up, but only for a split moment, before a shadow of doubt crossed her features.
“I mean, I don’t wanna make her mad. I’m barely on good grounds with her as it is.”
I took her hand in mine, making a decision, hoping she wouldn’t be super mad at me.
“What are you doing?” she asked, as I pulled her toward the store.
“Checking things out.”
She started to tug backwards, pulling away from me. I gripped her tighter. “Would you stop? It’s just to see what they have.”
“They have tattoos,” she deadpanned, and yet, she stopped tugging away from me. She wanted this, and now, I wanted nothing more than to give it to her.
As we entered the door, a small chime rang out into the room, snapping the group of girls’ heads at us. April quickly ducked behind me, which made me chuckle. I brought her over to the wall and leafed through one of the books to see if anything interested her.
A thick guy with a handlebar moustache and more tattoos than I could count came over. “Can I help you?”
