He stared down at me. “So, you’re hijacking my first client’s appointment?”
“She’s not your first client. I’m your first client.”
“It’s bad for business for you to pull shit like this.”
I don’t care about anything but you.
I shrugged. “I don’t care about anything but you.”
My heart and brain were finally in sync.
A giant smile spread across my face, and I watched him intake a sharp breath. He stared down at his fingers while they fiddled with sterile packaging.
“You want me to tattoo you?” he finally asked after a pregnant pause. He searched my eyes for all of the answers I was willing to give. “Do you have something in mind? Remember, it’s gonna be with you for life.”
“I want you to choose.”
“Are you crazy?” he asked sincerely.
I smiled at the irony and nodded. “You know I am.”
“You’re trusting me to pick out your tattoo?”
I shook my head and held his eyes with my own. I needed to make sure he got it. That despite everything I’d blown hot air about, I did need him. Because he made me a better version of me. Not different. Not worse. A newer, improved model. “I’m trusting you with everything.”
He searched my unrelenting gaze for another moment, and then he turned away to prepare his station. He set up the ink and set out the needles, and I watched each movement as though it was gospel. I’d missed the sound of his voice and the sound of his laugh and all the little things that only I got to know about him.
“Everything is sterile,” he instructed as he opened up each needle and turned back to me. “These will only be used on you, and then they’ll be disposed of.”
“Well, that’s fantastic fucking news because I just want a tattoo, not Hep C,” I teased, but my voice didn’t hold any of its usual intensity. I want my giant back.
He smirked and gestured toward my exposed rib cage, but he didn’t pull me into his arms and tell me he loved me either. I wasn’t sure what to make of any of it. “This where you want it?”
I nodded.
“And you sure about this?”
I nodded.
He cleaned off my skin with a cool cloth.
“You’re one hundred percent certain you want to do this?”
“One hundred and ten percent.”
Ten minutes and several more “Are you sure?” style questions from Thatch, the sketch was on my ribs, and he slipped on latex gloves.
“Do you want to see it before I start?”
I shook my head and rested my head on the table. “No. I’ll want to see it for the first time when it’s done.”
The very edges of a smirk graced his lips as he held up the tattoo machine for my eyes. “I’m going to do a dry run so you know what the needle feels like.”
“Test away,” I said and shut my eyes. The initial sting of the needle made me flinch, but otherwise, it wasn’t too awful bad.
“How does it feel?” he asked, the edge of his glove-covered thumb skimming softly over the surrounding skin.
“Like you’re about to create something amazing for me.” I peeked out of one eye and caught his tender smile. It felt like I could breathe for the first time.
“You ready, honey?” he asked on a whisper, and I had to fight the urge to burst into tears at the sounds of his sweet endearment.
Honey. I’d missed that so much.
Taking several gulps of newfound air, I nodded my head enthusiastically. “So ready.”
“Okay, Crazy. Just try to sit back and relax.”
His latex-covered hand rested on my side as he leaned forward and put the tattoo needle to my skin. His face was mere inches from my ribs, and I could feel his warm breaths ease in and out from his lips and brush against my skin.
The room stayed silent, only the buzzing of the gun filling the space. I winced when the needle pushed against a particularly sensitive bundle of nerves.
“Just relax. You’re doing great,” he encouraged.
I closed my eyes and let Thatch work his magic, and forty minutes later, he was cleaning off my skin again and announcing, “All done.”
I looked up at him and smiled. “Really?”
He nodded. “Yep.”
“Can I look at it now?” I asked with excitement.
He nodded, snapped off his gloves, and helped me off the table.
I walked over toward the floor-length mirror and turned to my side.
The second my gaze caught sight of the black words etched across my reddened skin, tears filled my eyes.
She was crazy. Wild.
Chaos & beauty.
My heart.
Mine.
He stood behind me, watching my reaction in the mirror.
“For most of my life, I had only been sure about one thing,” I said quietly and glanced back down at the beautiful tattoo he had created for me. “Photography was my one sure thing. I loved the control it brought me,” I admitted. “For as long as I can remember, I had always hated not having control of my choices. It’s just the way I was. I needed it. I needed the freedom to go and do and be whatever I wanted.”