Page 119 of The Confidant

Asher.

Despite the fact that he’s still a cold lump, he’s making strides toward better communication. We hug sometimes. He says I love you without reserve. All things that I’ve been waiting on and have no idea what to do with now that I have them.

Everyone in the family has been bombarding him with calls. Some are trying to guilt him because he’s not bending in his anger at Valerie. Others are telling him to focus on his angel and cake. He complains about it endlessly.

We now have a set Friday night meetup at the diner. Sometimes, all of us. Sometimes, just Asher.

Life is carrying on until the next drama comes.

I glance up at Poe, sleeping with a smile on his lips.

“All done, yappy,” I coax him awake.

His eyes open, snagging my attention.

“What is it?”

I turn away to cover my grin, carefully setting the tattoo gun down.

I broke. I spent an entire day at the house by myself, filling up online carts with tattoo essentials. As soon as Poe got home, I pointed my finger and demanded he click buy now. I’ve never seen a man so happy to purchase more than a thousand dollars' worth of merchandise for a woman in less than thirty minutes.

He set up one of the empty guest rooms as a private tattoo parlor. I see SoT members only. I’m excited to be in next year’s expo.

Right now, my junkyard dog is lying on my table once again. Everything has come full circle.

“You didn’t want to know,” I remind him as I take my gloves off.

“Now I do,” he raises a sleepy brow.

“Go look then,” I sass back.

He takes his time sitting up and stretching his arms. I know he’s building anticipation on purpose. I can’t wait for him to see this, and he knows it.

The slow saunter to the mirror is runway-worthy. I let out a wolf whistle, which makes him laugh.

Then there’s silence.

“Addie,” he breathes in wonder and then starts laughing.

The tattoo isn’t big. It rides over his hip, a circle outline filled in with flowers and two figures. A raccoon and a cane corso. They’re leaning on each other with the leash for the dog in the raccoon’s paw. I even added some wadded paper trash and a tiny, knocked-over trash can. The pure glee on the two faces is just the right amount of chaotic.

“I love it,” he mutters, his smile staying in place.

“I love you,” I remind him as I clean up.

“Do we have to go to dinner? I want to stay home with you,” he pouts. I catch it as I look over my shoulder at him. The mirror has betrayed him.

“It’s Friday,” I sing-song.

He lets out a loud, dramatic sigh. “I guess.”

I crack up.

The drive to the diner is filled with warm, simple conversation. He gets a call from his lawyer about William that puts a giant grin on his face. I don’t know what was said, but his gleeful response was, “Drop the case.”

“Tell me what happened with William,” I insist, poking his arm as he drives.

That grin comes back full force.

---