“Oh, no.” Emily chuckled.
“Why not?” Livy chuckled with her, a fake laugh that I fucking hated. “You’re about to be married to one of the greatest tattoo artists on this side of the Mississippi. Surely, he isn’t trying to charge you, is he?”
Emily smiled up at me, and I could see the pride in her eyes.
“No. He won’t charge me. I’m just not sure that I ever want a tattoo.”
That was news to me. Emily had never really shown an interest in my work, but I thought that eventually she would let me mark her with my art.
“Really?” Livy asked curiously. “I feel honored to have Parker’s art on me.”
She was fucking with my head. I wasn’t sure if it was on purpose or not, but it didn’t matter. She was making me question everything.
“Parker’s tattooed you?” Emily actually seemed interested in the answer. More interested than she had ever been in my work before.
“Yeah.” Livy nodded. “Hold this, Parker.” She placed her cranberry and vodka in my hand before she started pulling up her shirt to show her tattoo.
Emily tensed as the tattoo came into view and so did I. When Emily and I met, I was constantly drawing. Every free second of the day my hands were covered in pencil lead. I would constantly wake up in the middle of the night to draw, to clear my head, and there were too many occasions to count when Emily would wake up to me drawing.
To me drawing the tattoo that was now permanently a part of Livy.
Emily glanced up at me with accusation in her eyes before she looked back at Livy. “I love it.”
“Me too. Could you imagine going through life without having something this beautiful from Parker on your skin?”
“No. You’re right. I couldn’t.” Emily’s hand squeezed around mine. “Parker, I think we should go mingle with the other guests.”
“Oh, yeah. Sure.” I handed Livy back her drink, and her eyes went from mine and Emily’s clasped hands to look up at me.
“Have fun.” She smiled, but I could see past it. I could see her falling apart in front of me, and I wanted nothing more than to reach out and catch her.
But Emily pulled on my hand in that moment, and Livy looked away.
P A R K E R
Four Years Earlier
It was two weeks after we found out about the miscarriage that I finally got the nerve to go to Georgia. I didn’t really have a plan. I just knew that I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t go. If I didn’t talk to her.
I could have called her, and looking back, maybe I should have, but I needed to see her. I needed to see if she really cared as little about me as she was showing.
I knocked on her dorm room door and a girl with a don’t-fuck-with-me face opened it.
“Can I help you?” She put her hand on her hip.
“Umm… yeah.” I ran my hand through my hair. “I’m looking for Livy.”
“Who?” She looked bored out of her mind.
“Livy?” When she still didn’t look like she had a clue who I was talking about, I said, “Olivia?”
“Oh, you mean, Liv. She’s not here.” She started shutting the door, but I slammed my hand in the doorway just in time to stop her.
“Do you know when she’ll be back?” I asked politely, my patience running thin.
“Probably in the morning. She went out with that guy again, and I told her that she wasn’t bringing him back here so I assume she’ll stay at his.”
Her words crashed into me, forcing all the air out of my lungs. She was with someone else. She was… I could barely even think the words because they seemed so far gone now. She was mine.
“Do you want me to tell her that you stopped by?” Her roommate watched me as I completely fell apart in front of her.
I shook my head trying to form words. I had no right to feel this way. I had gone on a date with someone else after she left, but I went home after thirty minutes. It felt wrong. It wasn’t her. I needed her.
“No.” I finally found the words. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
L I V Y
Present
I stared at myself in the mirror. I was wearing a pair of tight ripped jeans, a cute black top, and a pair of fuck-me heels. My hair was stick straight and my lips were cherry red.
I knew it was insanely stupid to say yes to a date offer when I really wasn’t interested in the guy, but he was cute and I needed to get out of my own head. I met him at the coffee shop when I ran out to get coffee for everyone at the shop.
He was so nice and slightly charming, and even though I had been doing nothing but obsess over Parker, I decided to say yes.
When the doorbell rang, I tried to get there before my brother, but I’m pretty sure he had been pacing the living room waiting for him. I was twenty-two years old, but my brother still acted like I still needed a protector.
When I got to the door, Josh looked a little scared and a lot ready to get out of there. I pushed Mason into the house as I stepped out onto the front porch.
Josh didn’t hug me in hello or let his eyes roam over my body. Instead, he watched the front door as he led me to his car.
As we walked into the restaurant, he seemed to finally breathe in relief.
“I’m sorry about my brother.” I laughed. “He’s a bit overprotective.”
“Just a bit.” He chuckled.
The server took our drink order, and Josh finally looked at me, his eyes jumping from my face to my chest.
“You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.” I smiled. It was a little late, but I kept that to myself.
“So Liv, what do you do?”
“I’m a receptionist at Forbidden Ink. Do you have any tattoos?”
I took a sip of my sweet tea and watched him shake his head.
“No way. I can’t have any tattoos at my job.”
“Why not?”
“I’m a lawyer. No one wants someone to represent them that looks like a convict themselves.”
He laughed, but I didn’t.
“You don’t like tattoos?”
“No.” He shook his head again with a smile on his face. “You don’t have any do you?”
“I do.”
He straightened up at that.
“Oh. I haven’t seen one.”
You probably never will either. “It’s hidden.”
“See that I can deal with. If you can put on clothes and still look presentable, I think they are fine.”
I thought about what Parker would think about his words as they flowed from his lips, and if I were half as courageous as Parker, I probably would have said his thoughts out loud. But I wasn’t.
I nodded my head as Josh continued to talk. I wasn’t sure what Parker wanted from me anyways. He tracked my every movement with his eyes as I worked around the shop, but we still hadn’t spoken a word about our kiss.
Our drunken, idiotic kiss.
He was getting married in two weeks. Two fucking weeks, and I was sitting on the sidelines obsessing over a kiss. He probably thought it was a mistake. He was probably just worried that I would say something to Emily, but I would never do that to him.