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“What did you have in mind?”
Ant looks at me as she does, both of them staring intently as they wait for my answer, but I have no idea what to say.
“Do you need to look through some of our designs?” the artist asks.
“I, um. Maybe…”
“I was thinking a sapphire,” Ant says. “Like the necklace I bought you. That’s symbolic, isn’t it?”
“I guess so…”
“Guess so?” He laughs. “I’d have thought it would be more than a guess so. I thought that necklace was quite an important one for you.”
“It is.” I raise my hand to the jewel around my neck, and the tattooist leans in to take a look at it.
“I can do a stylised version of that,” she says. “Where do you want it? It’s a cover up, right?”
I have to take off my bracelet to show her the infinity symbol and my heart hurts at the thought of it going. It’s not the thought of Jack that’s hurting me, it’s the thought of that part of me being crossed out like it never existed.
The artist begins work on her graphics tablet, and I use the time to try to reason with Ant. I walk off to look at some of the printed designs on the wall, knowing he’ll follow me. He puts his hand on my lower back in one of his possessive gestures that normally gives me hot tingles, but today it doesn’t. Today I want to pull away.
“Ant, I’m really not sure about this,” I whisper. “I’m not saying I won’t ever have it done, but I’m not sure making a decision like this in a heartbeat is the right way to do it.”
He looks offended, and I hate that.
“Cass, baby. I’ve brought you to a great design studio and cleared the place out to give you priority. If you want to up and leave here that’s fine, go over and tell her so. I’m sure she’ll be upset that we’ve just cleared out their Sunday morning schedule, but that’s how business goes sometimes.”
I look over at the artist, and her colleague is alongside her, both of them working intently.
I don’t want to interrupt them and let them down, so part of me considers – just considers – using my own account to pay them the grand Ant promised them. I reach into my clutch and Ant sees me. He must read me, because he takes hold of my wrist before I grab my purse.
“Princess, please don’t tell me you want to keep that asshole’s memory on your wrist. Has seeing him again really affected you that much? If you still have feelings for him you need to tell me.”
“No,” I protest, trying to keep my voice at a whisper. “I don’t still have feelings for Jack. Not at all. Seeing him again only reinforced how much happier I am with you.”
“Great, then,” he says. “So why would you want to keep that tattoo?”
“I don’t.”
“Then there’s no problem, surely?” he questions, and I feel myself getting flustered.
“I’d like more time.”
“More time for what?”
“More time to… I don’t know… plan it. Come up with ideas.”
Then he slams me again. “Baby, there is no time. I want you walking down that aisle, I really do. But not with that on your wrist. In fact, we can’t plan a single thing until it’s gone. It wouldn’t feel right for me. Can you understand that?”
I can only nod.
“Thanks, baby. Then there’s no time like the present.”
“Yes, but…”
“You don’t like the idea of the sapphire?”
“No, I do like the idea of the sapphire.”
“Good,” he says with a smile. “Because I love the idea of something so beautiful and iconic on your skin as this will be. I’m sure they’ll make it stunning.”
I walk back over to the counter for a bit of insight on what they are doing, and Ant’s right. Even now, in sketch form, the design really does look stunning.
“Do you like it?” the woman asks.
“Yes. It looks really good.”
Ant steps up behind me, putting his hand right back in position against my lower back.
“Such a talent,” he says.
The picture is really nice. A beautiful big sapphire jewel surrounded by a gorgeous, twisted ribbon. All set to wipe out the infinity loop.
I only wish I felt good about it.
I move my bracelet out of the way and my fingers brush it on instinct, tracing the lines like I’ve done so many times before over the years. I remember Jack tickling the same spot and planting a kiss in the centre, telling me he loved me. I don’t miss that, but it’s so sentimental a memento that I feel my stomach churning at the loss.
My breaths are shallow as we get the design signed off and I take a seat at the bench.
“Relax, and if it gets too much just tell me,” the artist says, “and we’ll take a break.”
