Page 84 of Catching the Mistletoe

Meryl, catching the tail end of our conversation, looked over and nodded approvingly. “Ah, the lotus. Beautiful symbol of rebirth and triumph over adversity. Are you sure about this?”

As I looked back at Mack, and then to the lotus, there wasn’t a shred of doubt in my mind. “Absolutely. The black ink is a bit blah, though. Can I have some color on it?”

“You sure can. Anything in particular in mind?”

Chewing my bottom lip, I thought about what might work, but couldn’t seem to get my mind to cooperate.

“Pale blue.”

I raised my eyes to Mack’s, a small frown on my brow. His tone was adamant. “You think?”

“One hundred percent.”

“Okay then.”

“Awesome! You guys are super decisive, which makes my job easier. Now you come out back and we can get you set up.”

Meryl led us past a beaded curtain into a room that had none of the rugged aesthetic of the front area. This was a place of pure functionality: a sanitized metal table covered in a white sheet, an adjustable chair similar to what you’d find at a dentist’s office, and a tray holding an array of tattooing gear. My eyes first settled on the jars of ink, lined up like a rainbow of possibilities.

The sight gave me a mix of thrill and hesitation. It’s one thing to talk about getting inked; it’s another to actually be on the verge of doing it. But then, my eyes shifted to the needles, neatly lined up, sterile and ready for action. The sight grabbed hold of my insides, jolting my nerves into high alert.

Shaking off the jitters, I took a deep, grounding breath. “Okay, let’s do this,” I murmured, more to myself than anyone else. My boots felt like they were filled with lead as I took a step toward the chair, and even Mack’s reassuring touch on my shoulder wasn’t enough to quell the rising panic.

My heart ratcheted up its pace, each beat pounding against my ribcage like a frantic drum solo. “Actually, wait—” The words were out before I could filter them, my body already pivoting away from the chair. Ignoring Mack’s startled expression and Meryl’s look of concern, I bolted out from behind the partition. The jingling of the shop’s front doorbell seemed to mock me as I pushed through, escaping into the sharp, biting air of the Chicago street. All thoughts of lotuses, rebirth, and new beginnings vanished in a haze of pure panic.

I could barely catch my breath, each inhale a ragged, useless gulp. Putting my hands on my knees, I bent over, willing myself to calm the fuck down.Jesus, Arabella. Get a grip.

The door jingled again behind me, and in seconds, Mack’s arms were around me, pulling me against him. I buried my face into the crook of his neck, letting his familiar scent fill my head, anchoring me back to the here and now. “Hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm to my frayed nerves.

“Fuck. I’m so sorry,” I gasped, still trying to drag in air. “You must think I’m crazy.”

“I don’t think that. But do you think you can tell me what’s upsetting you?”

“I was totally fine, really excited, actually, until... I saw the needles. I guess I’ve got a needle phobia these days. I mean, I never liked them, but they didn’t freak me out like this. I feel a bit crazy even saying it.”

“No. Not crazy. And I’m sorry I’ve put you through this. Let’s go.”

“No, wait!”

He stopped, watching me patiently.

“I...”

Running his knuckles down my cheek, he smiled. “You still want it?”

“I do.” I felt the hot sting of tears, because he’d gone to so much effort, and I really, really liked that lotus flower.

With a featherlight kiss to my lips, he said, “Okay. Just give me a sec.” He pulled his jacket off and threw it over my shoulders and went back inside the shop. I watched him disappear through the door, my thoughts racing as quickly as my heartbeat. What was he doing? The cold air nipped at my cheeks, but I barely felt it; I was too tangled up in my own jumble of emotions.

Several excruciating minutes later, Mack returned, his expression neutral.

“What’s going on?”

“I want you to come back inside and talk to Meryl. If you’re still freaking out after that, we’ll figure something else out. You think you can handle that?”

Taking his outstretched hand, I smiled weakly. “I think so.”

When we stepped behind the curtain, Meryl glanced up, shooting us a grin. “Hey, welcome back. Figured I’d stash the needles till you’re all set. Less freaky that way, right?”

---