Page 49 of Stars Like Confetti

Somehow, it was one of Theo's favorites.

"Where did you find this?" I asked, handing the picture over before I studied my old self too closely.

Theo admired the picture, obviously seeing something in that teenage girl that I never saw in myself. Shining bourbon eyes gazed up at me, and they propped their chin in their hand. "Mom gave it to me the day after you left. Your parents scrubbed all the pictures of us from your socials before I could save any, but my mom had this."

"Well, I think we have to take a new one. We look a bit different from that day."

"If you think I'm getting rid of it, you've got another thing coming." Theo's attention flitted down to the image, then back to me. "That's the day I fell in love with you."

The breath whooshed from my lungs. "You're killing me," I groaned. "I don't think I can have sex again. There's nothing left in me."

We'd already changed the sheets… twice…

Theo laughed, their eyes sparkling in the late afternoon sun. I wanted to capture that color, bottle it and keep it all to myself. Some said brown eyes were boring—I begged to differ. Theo's eyes were the most captivating thing I've ever seen. So much more than just melted chocolate, a shimmer like someone had drizzled liquid gold right into their irises. And their eyes held so much emotion—love, lust, and in that moment—mischief.

"I know what we could do instead."

Epilogue Two

Theo

"This was a bad idea when we did it before, and I think it's even worse now," Shea said, entering the house behind me.

"It's not a bad idea because Jordan is fully licensed, unlike Hailey."

Shea snickered. “I should track her down and thank her.”

“I tried—she’s in prison.”

Shaking his head, Shea gazed around the place, taking in Jordan's cozy yet modern living room. I heard clanging from downstairs, which meant that he was setting up for our session. I took Shea's hand and brought it to my lips, brushing a kiss across the knuckles. "Can you trust me, baby?"

He didn't respond right away, so I stuck my tongue out and lapped at a couple of his fingers. He drew his bottom lip between his teeth, but still no words. I sucked his index finger into my mouth, and that's when he finally reacted.

His resolve was getting stronger. I'd have to figure out some other way to break those walls down. Now, though, Shea knew exactly what I was doing. He made no move to tug his hand free. "Of course, I trust you."

Footsteps sounded from down the hallway, and Jordan appeared through the door that led down to his studio. He was drying his hands on a paper towel and despite the carefree man that Shea got to know during camp, he was all business now. "You two ready?"

Instead of answering myself, I glanced at my husband and crooked a brow. Though he fought it, the corners of his lips and the sparkle in his eye gave away his smile and with one barely noticeable nod, we let Jordan lead us downstairs.

On the weekends, Jordan rented a booth at a studio downtown but for larger or more private pieces, he worked out of his basement. He was fully aware of the irony in tattooing in his basement and as he'd described to me before, felt an odd sense of pride in people showing off his work and saying it got done in someone's basement.

As we descended into the studio, Shea glanced around at the artwork along the walls. At the bottom of the stairs, his eyes caught onto one art piece in particular, and a slow smile spread across his face.

It was the first tattoo Jordan had done when he opened his own studio. Concurrently, it was the first piece I got after opening Playhouse. It was actually how we'd met—he was a new artist trying to start out on his own, and I wanted to celebrate. Dotted amongst Jordan's various art prints were real photographs of tattoos he'd done, once he'd hired photographers to capture just the right way. I remembered that day vividly, standing topless in a wheat field while some stranger snapped around me, promising to keep my chest out of the shot.

In the end, she made good on her promise. She'd found the perfect angle behind me, instructed me to put my hands through my hair and snapped away. She'd captured the perfect ripple of muscles beneath my skin, sun highlighting the right points of the tattoo. Jordan claimed it was the single piece that got him all his fame, but I think he just liked to say that.

However, it held Shea's attention, and I began to think that maybe we could recreate it.

On our own.

Though maybe not in a field—I'd gone home with so many bug bites that day.

"Who's first?" Jordan asked, distracting us.

"I'll go," I said before Shea could even give me the look.

I whipped my shirt off and laid down on the sanitized chair, closing my eyes as I relaxed onto the pillow.