I squeeze Tully’s hand, and he smiles softly, like he’s forgiven me.
“Didn’t mind one bit. This girl’s worth fighting for.” Ken gestures toward the back. “Your old station’s there waiting for you. Anytime you’re in town, it’s yours. Ink some magic for old times’ sake.”
“Thanks, Ken,” I say, hugging him again. “It’s really great to see you.”
“I hope to see you more often. Sorry, I’ve gotta run so soon. Wife’s outta town, and I gotta let the dog out.”
“Thanks for staying late for us.”
He waves me off with a wink. “Not any trouble at all. Lock up when you’re done. I’m out. Don’t burn the place down.”
The door chimes behind him, and then it’s just us. We walk back to my old station, and Tully grins at me.
“You gonna ink me tonight?”
I tilt my head. “Whatever you want.”
“I’d love more of your art on my skin. Surprise me. Everything you’ve chosen before…” He trails off, voice roughening. “They mean something. You see me better than anyone.”
My throat goes tight. I pull out something from my bag that I’ve been wanting to get for myself. He doesn’t ask to look, so I get to work setting up fresh needles and black ink.
“Where would you like to see it?” he asks, grinning.
I tap his heart. “Maybe here?”
His curiosity piqued, he shrugs off his jacket and thentugs his shirt over his head before lying back on the chair. I position him and lean in close.
“Are you sure you don’t want to approve it first?”
He meets my eyes. “I trust you.”
“Okay. I hope you like it.”
I transfer the stencil: a small infinity loop, with detailed angel wings on half of each loop. The feathers get shorter and more delicate closer to the center, and shading gives them dimension. At the center of the loop are two small, black hearts. One sits slightly left of the center, and the other sits slightly right. A tiny black dot marks the center between the two hearts, which appear to meet in the middle.
The buzz of the machine fills the silence between us. He doesn’t flinch. He just watches my face. When I finish and wipe the tattoo clean, the lines are crisp, the wings almost lifelike in their gentle curve.
“Would you like to see it?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says emphatically.
I raise his chair fully and hold a mirror in front of him. His breath catches when he sees it, his eyes glistening.
“For our baby.”
“Yes,” I whisper.
I tape it down, and he pulls me into him. His forehead rests against mine, and we’re just quiet for a few quiet moments. We stay like that, grieving together in a way we weren’t able to before. A tear slips down my cheek.
After a few minutes, he asks quietly, “Do you ever…imagine trying again? Someday?”
I pull back just enough to look at him. “This is the first time I’ve let myself hope it could be possible.” My voice cracks. “Because you’re the only one I’d ever want that kind of future with.”
He exhales. “Whatever comes, as long as I have you, I’ll be happy,” he says.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
WRAPPED UP IN WHITE