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“Hey, don’t look at me. I’m not dating, remember?”
“Right. You eat dinner.”
“Exactly.” I let out a small chuckle, “In your defense, I got it a few months ago. The tattoo.”
“A spur-of-the-moment decision?”
The night I got it flashes in my mind. It was the anniversary of the day my life changed forever, the day I found out my mom had cancer.
It was weird.
I woke up, and something just felt off. I was lying in bed, trying to figure out what was wrong when it hit me.
Some days I wake up, and it’s just a normal day like any other, but others? On other days, she’s the only thing I can think about. The pain and loss are so real; it’s like it all happened yesterday.
I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. Not entirely, anyway.
So I got up, woke up Grace, and went to the tattoo shop I’d been looking at online for a few weeks, ever since I saw a similar design to this one and started playing with the idea of getting a tattoo myself.
“You can say that,” I say slowly, pushing back the memories. “What about you? Got any tats?” I ask, changing the subject.
Thankfully he goes with it and tells me all about the tattoo covering his leg that he got as a junior in high school and how his mom flipped when she saw it.
“She was running after me around the house with her wooden spoon clasped tightly in her hand.”
“She did not,” I laugh.
“Oh, yes, she did. I still think if there was a way for her to make me return it, she would have done it.”
“That’s hilarious. Did she end up catching you?”
Michael glances at me, a big grin on his face. “What do you think? She cornered me and pulled at my ear so hard the damage is permanent.”
“Poor baby.”
“What can I say?” He looks around the parking lot, a fond smile on his lips. “As the youngest of five brothers and sisters, I might have caused the most mischief.”
“Wow, five brothers and sisters?”
“Yes, I had to get my family’s attention somehow.” He kills the ignition and turns to me. “It’s just you and Nixon?”
“It’s just Nixon and me,” I confirm. “Well, and now his wife.”
“That’s cool too.” He looks at the restaurant. “Ready?”
“Yeah, sure.”
I unbuckle my seatbelt and open the door just as Michael gets around the hood, his brows raised.
“I could have done that.”
“You could have, but I’m quite capable of opening my own door.”
“Afraid it’ll look too much like a date?”
“Maybe?”
“At least you’re honest,” Michael chuckles. “C’mon, let’s get inside before Grace starts worrying that I kidnapped you.”
