“Paying separately?” she asks, eyeing me.
I can practically hear her thoughts.
Surely a man like him wouldn’t be with a woman like her.
I open my mouth to say yes—because obviously I’m paying for my dress—but Eli kisses my temple.
“No. Put it all on my card.”
Her brows lift, but she rings up the total.
“That will be three-thousand-four-hundred, please.”
Good lord. I ended up with a new dress, heels, handbag, necklace, and earrings. And Eli bought a suit and shoes.
Eli swipes his card without a care in the world.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I tell him as we walk back out the shop. It’s been almost three hours and my stomach rumbles.
Eli doesn’t acknowledge my comment, just picks up my hand with his one that’s not carrying the bags, and leads me over to a little cafe selling artisan drinks and pastries.
I order a croissant filled with cheese and ham, and Eli does the same, and then we both get an iced coffee to go alongside. I’m ready to swipe my card—as a little gesture of thanks given the insane amount Eli has spent on me today—but he beats me to it.
“You shouldn’t spend so much money on me,” I say as we take a seat while waiting for our food to be heated.
Eli takes my hands in his, kissing my fingertips. “I like spending money on you. And I can afford it, so why wouldn’t I?”
“But you’re just a tattoo artist? Surely you don’t makethatmuch?”
He laughs loudly. “It’s more lucrative than you’d think.” His jaw tightens. “But no, you’re right. I have money from my father’s inheritance.” Then his eyes glaze over a little at the mention of his dad.
I squeeze his hand. “You don’t have to talk about him.”
Eli’s head shakes. “No, it’s okay. He left me a load of moneywhen he died—the idiot never thought to take me off his life insurance, or out of his will. I’m his only kid and my mum was gone…” He shrugs.
“Where was your mum, through everything?” It’s a question I’ve wondered ever since he opened up about his father’s abuse.
Our food is set down in front of us. Only then does Eli answer.
“She was there to start with. But you know—it’s not just me he was beating. She took the brunt of it for a long time. Then one day she just up and left.”
“She left you with him?”
Eli takes a bite of his croissant, as if he needs a moment before he speaks. “Yeah. One day she was there. The next? Well, then I was his only target.”
My heart aches for the young boy that faced his father’s abuse all alone. The one who turned to cutting as a way of blocking out the pain. Then became fixated on someone who seemed as broken as him in order to stop that.
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” I tell him, meaning every word.
Eli swallows. “Feel like I should be paying you for an impromptu therapy session.”
I shake my head, grinning despite myself. “Let’s call it a freebie.”
37
Very Much Yours
Emily's Search History: can you cause real damage by digging a tattoo gun too deep into the skin?