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“I’m still getting that tattoo on my upper thigh.” Her smile is wide, but I see the flash of despair in her eyes. She wants the mark covered, a constant reminder of the trauma she endured.
“I’m getting a matching one on my back. Much bigger than yours though.”
We exchange a meaningful look, preoccupied by the physical scars left at the hands of Orpheus and his cult.
“Are you still getting the heart with our initials and wedding date?”
“Yup.” She smiles at me. “Are you still getting the sunrise on your back?”
“I prefer the word dawn. Your middle name and the illumination of hope and light. The beginning of a new day, symbolizing rebirth and awakening.”
“I love it.” Holding up her glass, Mackenzie says, “Let’s toast to light and hope. And to the unity of soul mates, destined to be together for an eternity.”
“To new beginnings full of happiness, light, and love. And to my soul mate, who always pulls me from the darkness into the light. You’re my destiny, angel.”
We clink glasses, our eyes locked together as we take a sip.
“You were born to be mine, whiskey tango.”
“And you were born to mine, angel.”
