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“Is that a harp?” I grab him by the wrist and yank the skin closer.
He chuckles. “We both know it’s not just a harp.”
“And it says…” Shock steals the rest of my response.
His lips brush my ear. “Pluck my strings and sing for me, Pitchy.”
“You did this for me?” My tone is a whisper-shout, still aware of the tiny dancers performing mere feet away.
“I did.”
“But this part looks older.” My nail traces the first half of the phrase.
“It is.”
“From when?” I hover my fingers over the entire area, wise enough not to actually touch him.
He blows out a heavy exhale. “What was meant to be our one-year anniversary. It’s always been you for me, baby.”
I sway into his warmth. “Oh, JJ. You swoon me so very good.”
Jake presses a kiss on my cheek. “I already have the next design planned.”
“Oh?” My stare is still locked on the tattoo.
With a bent knuckle, he lifts my chin until our eyes connect. “The day you exchange your last name for mine. I can’t fucking wait to have you officially join the Evans tribe.”
My knees wobble and I slump against him. “Oh.”
“Yeah, you’re with me now.” He rubs his thumb along my bottom lip.
“Hey, heyyyy! We’re done practicing.” Sydney twirls onto the scene in her frilly costume. Her spin moves come to a stop at her father’s side. “It’s almost time.”
Jake bobs his head, lowering a flat palm for her to smack. “We’ve got this.”
That’s when Joy struts on stage to make the next announcement. “Excellent job, Daffodils. And our final performance for the Barre Twirl spring recital is our partner dance featuringthe Dandelion and Peony squads.”
“That’s our cue.” Jake holds his bent arm out for Sydney to accept while rowdy cheers welcome them.
“We’re totally gonna win.” She bends into a plie, then grips his elbow.
“It’s not a competition,” I remind as they skip off to their designated spot.
“That’ll just encourage them.” Joy laughs as she takes her position beside me in the shadowed wing.
Music streams from the speakers, setting the group in motion. Every duo demands attention, but it’s difficult to force my gaze away from a certain pair. I watch them with unshed tears blurring my vision.
The routine is flawless, just as planned. These kids and their trusted adults worked hard to nail the steps. Their dedication radiates under the spotlights. It’s over all too soon, the last chords fading into silence. The auditorium bursts with deafening applause. I’m clapping while mentally preparing my closing speech. This has been a night to remember for always.
My thoughts are interrupted when Jake saunters to the front of the stage. There’s a microphone in his grip, which instantly sets off internal alarm bells. He flips his hat backward with purpose. The captivating action is almost comical considering he’s wearing it at the recital to begin with. A hush follows as we wait for him to speak.
“He’s going rogue,” I mumble.
“Good luck with that.” Joy checks me with her hip.
“Would the lovely Harper Wilson please join us out here?” Jake turns toward me, crooking his finger to hurry my stunned progress along.
Before I can move, every dancer from our studio rushes to fill the illuminated space. My pulse hammers an unsteady beat as I erase the distance separating us. Once I’m in reach, he laces our fingers together and lifts our clasped hands. “Let’s hear it for this woman and her company for putting on quite a show.”
