Page 65 of Possessive Ink

“I like…clothes,” she says so quietly I can barely hear her.

“So do I,” I answer honestly. “You’ve seen my closet.”

“It’s amazing,” she says with a hint of reverence in her tone.

“So you like to shop?” I surmise, wondering if she’s worried I’ll think she’s about to ask me for money.

“No, not really.”

“You like clothes, but not shopping?” I question.

“I make my own clothes,” she blurts.

“Wait,” I question. “You make your own clothes?”

Instead of speaking, I feel her head bob up and down against my chest.

“So the sailor dress?”

“Actually, I bought that one, mainly because I couldn’t find a pattern I liked or figure out the dimensions of the collar so I could create my own. I actually plan to make a mini version in pink when I have the time and money for the fabric.”

“So which of the outfits I’ve seen you in so far did you make?” I ask.

“I made the one I’m wearing today, and the one I wore last night. I’m not that good at it yet, but I’m learning,” she says coyly.

“You made that dress?” I ask, pointing in the direction of the pink dress I stripped off her an hour ago.

She nods, then buries her face in my chest like she’s embarrassed.

“Jesus, Princess, that’s incredible. Why have you been working as a receptionist when you can make clothes like that?”

“I just followed a pattern,” she says, downplaying it.

“Don’t do that, Princess. Don’t minimize your achievements. You look sexy as hell in the dress you made today. Who cares if you followed a pattern? That’s still a million times more impressive than what most people could do. And I’m guessing you probably put your own flair on the dress, didn’t you?”

“Well…” She stalls. “I guess I did change the skirt a little, and I wanted a sweetheart neckline, so I altered that a little, and I played about with the design of the back because I always feel beautiful when I’m in a backless dress.”

“You’re a clothes designer, Princess. That’s fucking incredible.”

Instead of preening or pushing for more compliments, she lifts her face from my chest and looks up at me from beneath dark lashes. “Maybe one day.”

“No, Princess, not someday. Now. Why aren’t you looking for jobs designing clothes instead of wasting your time being underappreciated working for asshats?”

“Because I didn’t go to college or design school. No one would consider me for a job when I’m not qualified.”

“So take a course.”

“Just like that,” she says snippily, her relaxed body going tense in my arms. “I can’t just decide to go to college on a whim. I have bills to pay.”

“You could get student finance,” I suggest.

“And be paying off the loans for the rest of my life.”

Inhaling, I think about my siblings. I decided not to go to college, and instead, I found an apprenticeship with a tattoo studio. But Felix went to art school, and Tori went to culinary school, and both Jude and August started college before they were picked up to play in the NHL.

While our parents might not be the most reliable adults, they had been saving for us all to go to college since we were babies, and they had enough money for none of us to need to take out any student loans to cover the cost of any education we wanted to pursue. Lemon’s mom is dead, and I have no idea about their financial situation before she passed. It was ignorant of me to assume that she had money set aside for Lemon to go to college.

“Maybe you could look into some community college classes. Then, if you decide to apply for a four-year school, you can transfer the credits.”