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Forrest taught me to draw. He’s by far more talented than I will ever be, but this drawing I’ve been working on for well over a year. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve started over, or how many drafts I have. A few weeks ago, I finally came up with a version that I’m in love with.
The hum of the tattoo gun ceases, and I sit up straight. Glancing at the clock, I see that the three-hour session is over. I wipe my sweaty palms on the ass of my jean shorts. I know the worst he can say is no, but I really want this design, and I want more than anything for Roman to be the one to give it to me. It’s a piece of me, and a piece of him that I’ll have always, no matter how this weird in between thing we have going on ends.
“Thanks for coming in, Scott,” Roman says, as he follows his customer to the front desk. “Hey, baby girl. I thought you were going home?” He tilts his head to the side to study me.
I pretend like my heart isn’t racing just because he called me baby girl. I love it. It feels intimate, and he’s the only person to ever call me that. The term of endearment makes me feel like his.
“I know, but I wanted to stay in case you needed me.” That’s only part of the truth, but there’s no way I’m going to ask for this tattoo in front of his customer. The chance of him rejecting me is high, and I don’t need anyone to bear witness to that humiliation, even if they are a complete stranger to me.
Roman stares at me for a few long, torturous heartbeats before turning his attention back to his client. “Em will get you taken care of. We’ll need to give you a few weeks to heal, and then we can finish some of the shading. I would suggest booking now. The schedule tends to fill up quickly.”
“Thanks again, Rome.” The two shake hands and Roman disappears into his room. I quickly run Scott’s credit card, book his next appointment with Roman, and walk him to the door. I turn the lock, switch off the Open sign, and turn off the lights in the lobby.
My knees are wobbly as I reach his door, where I knock lightly on the frame. He glances up, and his green eyes hold my gaze, but he doesn’t speak.
“Hey.” I clear my throat. “I have a favor.”
“What’s up?” he asks.
“I’ve been wanting another tattoo, and I was hoping you would be willing to give it to me.”
“You know Forrest will be pissed that you didn’t ask him.”
“He gave me my first.” I nod toward my ankle and my anchor tattoo.
“Doesn’t matter. He’s still going to be pissed.”
I shrug. “I love my brother, Rome. He’s everything to me, but I’m also an adult. I get to make my own choices in this life, and I choose you. I want you to be the one to do this for me.”
He pauses. I’m sure he’s letting my words roll around in that gorgeous head of his. We both know that my little speech is about more than just him giving me a tattoo. “Do you even know what you want?”
“I do. I’ll be right back.” I turn, rush back to the desk, grab my sketch, the final one that I’m in love with, and race back to his room. I hand him the drawing and step back. This is stressful, letting someone who is as talented as Roman look at my art. I’ve worked so hard on this, and the fear of him tearing apart the design is real. Not that he would ever be mean, but putting yourself out there is always scary, no matter who you’re with.
“Who drew this?”
“I did.”
His head snaps up, and those green eyes of his are burning with an emotion I can’t name.
“I’ve been working on it for over a year, and I finally have it how I want it.” I’m rambling, but he’s not saying anything. He finally pulls his gaze back to the drawing, and he’s just staring at it.
“This is really good, Emerson.”
He rarely uses my full name.
“Thank you.” I can feel the blush coating my cheeks. “I want it on my left hip, and I want you to do it.” My voice is strong and clear. Not holding a hint of the anxiety that’s coursing through my veins.
“You really want to face the wrath of your brother?”
“It’s one of you. As long as it’s someone from Everlasting Ink, from his circle, he’s going to be okay with it. If he’s not?” I shrug. “That’s his issue, not mine. You’re who I choose.” I hold my breath as I wait for him to decide.
“When?” His voice is gruff.
“Tonight. It’s just us, and it’s still early enough. Unless, I mean, if you have plans, we can schedule another time?” I’m quick to offer.
“No plans, Em.”
Hope swells in my chest. “Does that mean you’ll do it?”
