Page 1 of Love at First Ink

CHAPTER 1

Marisol

Marisol Roberts contemplated pulling out of the parking lot and driving to the nearest bakery. She would buy her own damn birthday cake and eat it in peace and quiet. After all, it wasn’t every day a person turned thirty, and that felt like a milestone worth celebrating. But a friendless, husbandless woman like herself didn’t want to be reminded of the years swiftly ticking by.

Marisol could hear her mother now, droning on about how much cardio Marisol would have to do if she so much as looked at her birthday cake. She was certain her mom would have a heart attack if she ever saw Marisol eating a slice of the sugary pastry. Even at thirty, she couldn’t seem to get her mother out of her head.

Which is why she turned off the engine, grabbed her Michael Kors bag and emotional support water bottle, and got out of the car. The gust of wind that greeted her was a welcome reprieve from the unusually hot day. The last remains of summer clung to the California air, and she couldn’t wait until sweater weather officially began.

Her therapist’s office was located in downtown Berkeley, nestled between two other office buildings. Her beige heels tapped loudly against the porcelain tiles as she made her way through the building and up to the second floor where her therapist resided. Using her hip, Marisol opened the door to a small but cozy waiting room.

The walls were painted a light gray color with inspirational photos adorning them. A bookshelf full of self-help books was nestled between two upholstered chairs. They looked stiff, but Marisol had never sat in them because her therapist, Alice, was always waiting to greet her. Today was no different.

Marisol was not a stranger to therapy. For a year, her sister Lola had convinced her to see a therapist. Dr. Edmon was a nice enough man, helped the sisters learn how to communicate better with one another, but Lola stopped going once she became a mom of two. There was still much Marisol had to work on, but she didn’t feel comfortable seeing Dr. Edmon by herself. He was too intense. Far too serious. She needed someone more nurturing.

After four failed therapy visits with different therapists, Alice was the one Marisol clicked with the most. Perhaps she made Marisol comfortable because she was an older woman who gave off grandmother vibes. Or the fact that she would smile when Marisol walked into the room, making her feel like Alice was genuinely happy to see her. Not many people were, and, honestly, she couldn’t blame them.

“Good morning, Marisol, and happy birthday.” Alice smiled, making the wrinkles near her eyes more prominent. She was dressed in her usual attire and color scheme: beige slacks and a lavender button-down shirt with minimal jewelry on.

Marisol did her best not to cringe at the mention of her birthday. Just another reminder she was getting older withnothing to show for it. No friends, no fulfilling career, and no husband.

Technically, she did have a husband—one she desperately wanted to be free of. Like most things in her life, that was still a work in progress.

Alice motioned for Marisol to follow her back to the office she was very familiar with. Alice’s leather chair sat at one side of the room, while the small, matching couch sat at the other. Only a coffee table separated them, but it still felt like a safety barrier. Like if things got too intense, Marisol could retreat into herself without Alice probing her mind.

It was delusional, of course, because Alice read her like a gossip magazine.

“So, how are you doing today? Do you have anything planned for your thirtieth?” Alice asked just as Marisol plopped on the couch, putting her bag and water bottle on the coffee table.

Marisol shrugged, something her mother hated.Use your words, Marisol; don’t make people guess what you have to say,was what her mother always lectured. “I’ll call my lawyer and ask him if Archie has signed the divorce papers yet.” Which would be the greatest gift of all.

Her almost ex-husband, a man she regretted marrying, was taking his sweet time addressing their divorce papers. Marisol could have pushed her lawyer to take action, but…she hadn’t yet. The longer she dragged her feet, the more time she had to prepare for her mother’s inevitable nuclear fallout from her divorce.

It was her mother who got her into this predicament in the first place. She had hand-chosen Archie for her. The only problem was that Archie wasn’t single at the time. No, Archie had been dating Lola, but her sister neverfit her mother’s beauty standard. Was never her puppet. That was Marisol’s job, and like an obedient sheep, she went along with it. She always went along with it, which only chipped away at her relationship with Lola until it nearly shattered completely.

“It is important to check up on the divorce, but that isn’t a proper way to celebrate your birthday. Thirty is a big milestone. Maybe we should take this time and think of ways you could celebrate,” Alice suggested.

As if Marisol’s life couldn’t be more pathetic, now she needed her therapist to help her celebrate her birthday.

“How have you celebrated your birthdays in the past?” Alice asked.

“My mom always threw me parties.”

“Did you enjoy them?”

“I mean, I’m not really a birthday person, but I guess.” Marisol hadn’t been a birthday person ever since she hit double digits, and her birthdays changed from celebrating her into more of a networking event.

Alice didn’t say anything. She did this when she wanted Marisol to continue talking. She learned the hard way that her therapist had the patience of a saint and would sit in her chair all day if she had to. But bottom line, Marisol had to speak.

“I guess they could have been better,” she offered, hoping this was enough to satisfy her.

“What could have been better?”

What couldn’t have been better? The guest list, the decorations, and even the menu had all been planned by her mother. She had no say in the themes of the parties. She remembered being thirteen and begging her mother to let her have a pool party because it was the one perk of having a summer birthday. Her mother had scoffed at her, stating pool parties were for little childrenand were tacky.

Because Marisol strived for her mother’s approval, she had nodded in agreement and let her mom plan her birthday party like she wanted. She never did this for her sister, though. Lola got to have any type of birthday party she wanted. They were never as grand as Marisol’s, but that didn’t matter because Lola got to celebrate with her friends. Real friends who actually liked her sister and weren’t forced to be there by their parents.

Everything in her sister’s life had been real, while Marisol obediently lived in the fabricated, and often distorted, reality her mother so carefully crafted for her. That was the start of her resentment toward her younger sister.

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