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Cora hops up and goes to the woman at the front. I amble behind her. “You don’t need to get ink unless you want to, baby.”
“I know. And I want to.”
I nod and watch as she fills out the consent form and provides her license. Ten minutes later, we are back in the booth and Cora is sitting in the chair. Her shirt is hiked up and rests on her bra. Thankfully, the only skin exposed is what anyone would see if she were in a bathing suit. Otherwise, I might have hovered over her worse than a parent of a teenager.
“You ready?” Autumn asks Cora.
She nods and takes my hand. When Autumn presses the pedal and the gun starts buzzing, Cora jumps a little. I draw circles with my thumb over her hand and try to soothe her nervousness. “It only hurts for a minute. Then it numbs a little from the vibration.”
The gun draws black lines on her skin just below her left breast. I sit mesmerized as Cora gets her first tattoo. It isn’t just the fact that this is her first tattoo, but what she decided to imprint her skin with. Autumn dips the gun in the ink then comes back to Cora’s ribcage.
When Autumn swipes some of the excess ink off, I squeeze Cora’s hand a little tighter. Cora peeks up at me, her smile brighter than the sunrise this morning.
“You okay?” she asks.
“I didn’t think this day could get any better. But I was definitely wrong.”
“Wait until you see what I do next.” Cora giggles.
Wait, what? Is she getting another tattoo? Maybe she means something completely unrelated. Something when we leave here.
Another ten minutes pass before the tattoo gun is set down and Autumn is cleaning the tattoo and covering it up. Just beneath Cora’s left breast rests my name in a feminine font. I am completely awestruck. It was one thing for me to get her name permanently etched into my skin, but I never expected her to reciprocate.
As I stand dazed, Cora asks me to go to the waiting area. For a moment, I am confused and ask her why.
“It’s a surprise. Please,” she pleads.
I nod and walk out to the waiting area, plop down onto the couch and grab a magazine. Every time I hear Autumn’s tattoo gun spark to life, I peer toward the back of the studio. All I see is Autumn’s head hunched over Cora.
What is she getting now?
Forever passes and I haven’t heard the tattoo gun spark up in minutes. I toss the magazine to the table and rise from the couch. After I wear a new pattern into the linoleum floor, Cora walks back out to the waiting area. I pay and we walk out the door. The walk to the car is silent and I am dying more than ever to know what else she had done.
Once we are in the car, I ask, “So, what else did you get?” For whatever reason, I am more antsy now than I was when I asked Cora to marry me.
Cora faces me and juts her left hand toward me. On her ring finger, where her engagement ring sat less than twenty minutes ago, is a black band of ink that matches mine. It is slightly thinner, but otherwise mirrors mine. “Baby…” I whisper. “You didn’t need to do that. I got you rings.”
She nods and smiles. “I know, but I want the world to know I belong to you. No one else. Always.” Cora throws my sentiment from earlier back at me. It steals my breath and kick-starts my pulse. Thank god we are in the confines of her car, otherwise I may have hit the ground. When I glance down at her right hand, I notice she has moved her engagement ring to that side. She takes stock of where my eyes focus and answers before I ask. “I’m only wearing it on my right while it heals. Promise.”
The fact that she worries if it bothers me her engagement ring sits on her right hand is adorable. Honestly, which hand her ring is on is the furthest thing from my mind. Right now, I want to take her home and make love to her until our bodies give out. Celebrate that we are finally getting the happily ever after we deserve after so many years apart.
Today, Cora permanently gave herself to me as I have her. With each passing second, the day gets better and better.
I nod. “Let’s go home, baby. I’m dying to make love to my fiancée.”
Twenty-Three
Cora
November 21 - Seven months later
“Come on, Cora. You do not want to be late today,” Shelly yells from the living room.
“I’ll be out in a second,” I yell back at her. I scan the room, checking every surface to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything. Satisfied, I grab the two bags on my bed then turn and walk out of the bedroom.
When I enter the living room, I glimpse my best friend who is currently trying to wear a new pattern into the wood floor with her heels. She mumbles under her breath, but stops when she spots me.
“Did you feed Luna?” I ask.
