Rowan’s partnership with Troy was a piece of creative genius. They’d been helping small businesses get loans, but after the bake-off, struggling companies had asked them to organize events like that one for them. The newest one was for Wendigo Hills’ animal shelter with an adoption campaign.
“The area looks super cosy, you’d love it. They have only eight dogs so far and twelve cats in separate areas of the building. The dogs have enough backyard to run and the staff is exceptionally nice,” Rowan said with palpable excitement. Every morning he went to work with a smile on his face and returned with heartfelt stories. Quitting that wretched job and taking a risk had turned out to be the right decision for him.
“That sounds awesome. I’ll have to go see it with you and play with all the dogs.”
“Definitely. And I didn’t tell you the best part—” Rowan continued talking, and his description gave me warm fuzzies.
Should we get a dog? The animal would love the cabin and our backyard too. I’d never had a pet before, but even with no experience, I believed Rowan and I could create a great home for a puppy. I may have mentioned that to Rowan before, but that would be a conversation for another day.
Once at home, we settled Rowan’s parents in the guest room and spent hours teaching them Canasta. Between the laughter and pretend-cheating, I had to excuse myself to wash my face with cold water to stop the tears. It was a family evening.
And I was included.
The following day, I had an important meeting booked. With a tattoo artist.
Last month when we’d gone to the parlor, Rowan had his foreskin pierced with a shiny hoop. He’d fallen in love with my nipple piercings and wanted some steel for himself. I’d thought he was the hottest man I’ve ever seen. Then he’d got pierced, and I hyperventilated from horniness.
While at the studio, I’d admired the framed art that decorated every wall and cad come up with an idea for a tattoo.
Now, I was holding Rowan’s hand and vibrating from giddiness as we entered the parlor.
The bell above the door chimed, and the green-haired, tattooed leszy lifted his head from the sketch he was working on. “Hi Milo. Are you ready?” The tree-shifter with branch-like antlers was about my age but had tattoos all over his body. He was art incarnate.
“Hi, Jacek. Can I see the design again?”
He retrieved a sheet from a folder and handed it to me. “You don’t want to add anything to it?”
“Nope. The first one can be simple.”
“First one?” Rowan lifted his bushy eyebrows.
I nodded. “I heard that once I get one, I’ll want more.”
“I can confirm,” Jacek added. “Now hop on the chair.”
I did, and after some buzzing, being stabbed with a bunch of needles, and squeezing Rowan’s fingers until they turned white, I had a gorgeous tattoo above my ankle.
“You never asked what it means,” I said to Jacek when he finished.
“If it’s not a hate symbol, I’ll tattoo it. It might be something personal, and that’s none of my business. Besides, from now on, everyone and their mom will ask you about the meaning of it.”
“Well, I want to tell you.” I moved my foot to look at my ankle. Above it, under a layer of healing goo, a number in beautiful writing was etched: 1608. “It’s Rowan’s hotel room. Where he stayed last year when we met.”
“That’s so sweet. Thanks for trusting me with your first tattoo.” He handed me a flyer with care instructions and one for an alternative market. “Check it out. You may find something you like.”
On the way back home, I read through the leaflet. “They have custom-made sex toys, swings, and special furniture.” I smacked his arm. “We have to go next month.”
Rowan chuckled. “We will.”
That Wednesday I didn’t want to take a day off for my birthday. Instead, I spent it at the cafe, doing what I loved. Once we closed, I went home to freshen up and give Rowan time to get the place ready for the party. He insisted that I couldn’t help unless I wanted to make coffee to accompany the cake.
Showered and dressed in a sheer black shirt and white chinos, I met Rowan outside our house, and we walked together to Cryptid Cafe.
I pulled us to a stop at the entrance and watched the commotion through the glass door.
Ethel was sitting in an armchair, pointing her cane at the banner that Ruben was fixing. Rowan’s brother was balancing on a chair Troy was securing. Riley and Sophia were setting up cupcakes on the round table in the middle, giggling and sharing loving glances.
Raina stood in the far corner with Rowan’s parents, looking at something behind a cluster of armchairs. Were they hiding my birthday gifts? I’d asked for keeping them simple and nothing extravagant.
