Page 2 of Love at First Ink

“I would have liked to at least invite a few of my classmates. It was always the children of potential investors or well-known names in my parents’ social circle. They were okay, but I didn’t know them. Not really,” Marisol said.

“Was that a common thing? Where you didn’t know people your age at social events?”

“Yes, but eventually I started seeing these people at many social events my family and I hosted or was invited to. None of us really developed friendships, but we still had an image to uphold.”

The image was being perfect, beautiful daughters of rich business owners. In reality, she hardly knew the girls she was instructed to talk to. They were expected to be friends, so they played that part. They showed up to each other’s events. Hell, these women had been Marisol’s bridesmaids, but she didn’t know basic facts about these women, even though they had known one another since they were teenagers. It was all about proximity and making sure their parents received perfect staged photos.

“Did that make your mother proud?”

And there was the question she hated. The question sheasked herself every day. One that she could never quite live up to. There was always one small flaw. One small thing she needed to fix. She was never good enough.

Thinking about her mother and her expectations made Marisol fidgety. She played with a stray thread on her otherwise pristine jeans, avoiding Alice’s gaze like the plague. The room felt like it would close in on her. Like if she admitted she hadn’t—and probably never—made her mother proud, all of her failures would slowly unravel until she was nothing but a shell for disappointment and lost dreams.

“Can we talk about something else?” Marisol didn’t recognize her voice. It was a far cry from the normal haughty tone she had adopted over the last few years, never able to completely hide her bitterness.

“We’ll talk about that at another session,” Alice said. Marisol let out a sigh of relief. Then Alice said, “Let’s get back to our original topic. Your birthday. What are your plans?”

Marisol wanted to gesture around and say “this,” but that made her sound too pathetic. “I don’t know, I’ll probably go home. Maybe call for takeout.”

It would be the first birthday she didn’t have a party. Her mother and father had taken a vacation together. She was supposed to go with them, along with Archie, but clearly plans changed. She supposed she could call Lola, but her sister was too busy being a mother to Camilia and her one-year-old son, Fabian. He was a cutie but a damn handful—and the perfect reminder as to why Marisol didn’t want kids.

They were always sticky, smelled strange, and got into everything. She loved her niece and nephew—they were everything to her—but she was better suited to be an aunt. She liked the freedom of being able to give them back to their parents.

“No, that’s something you can do any day. Think hard,Marisol. There has to be one thing you’ve always wanted to give yourself but have never gone through with out of fear of what others think.” Alice smiled in what Marisol took as encouragement.

What did she want? She never allowed herself to think about things she couldn’t or shouldn’t have. But maybe Alice was right. Thirtywasa major birthday, and her mother wasn’t here to plan a party she didn’t want. For the first time in her life, her birthday was entirely hers.

That was both terrifying and exhilarating.

So, how would she maximize this situation? She could go shopping and try out stores she actually wanted to go into. Or try out the new sushi restaurant she’d been dying to visit but never had the courage to go to alone. Or maybe she could do something truly reckless. Something that would make her mother spontaneously explode.

She had the answer immediately. But was she brave enough? Could she do it? She’d definitely need some liquid courage.

“Well, I’ve always wanted to get a tattoo. My mom?—”

“I don’t care what your mother thinks. I only care what Marisol thinks,” Alice cut her off. “This is your day. You’re an adult who is capable of making decisions about herself, especially when it comes to your body. I think getting a tattoo would be a marvelous thing. Doesn’t have to be too big. It’s the principle of the matter.”

She guessed Alice had a point. She didn’t have to get a tattoo that would take up half her arm or cover her face. She could make it dainty, in a place that could easily be hidden. The thought of doing something she knew her mother would hate made her stomach churn. It was almost enough for her to kill the idea before it fully took form, but a small,rebellious part of Marisol wanted to do something a little reckless.

The rest of her session, Alice made her talk about her day and goals she had set for herself. Marisol’s mind was occupied, though, still debating if she would actually go through with the whole tattoo thing.

She hadn’t even realized her hour session was up until Alice stood from her chair. “Our time is done today. Maybe next week I’ll see you with a tattoo?” Her kind smile gave Marisol confidence she didn’t know she needed.

Grabbing her things, Marisol nodded. “Thank you. I’ll see you next week.” She followed Alice out of her office and back toward the lobby. Usually, her therapist didn’t walk her back, but she didn’t question it. Alice may have forgotten something in her car that she needed to get, or maybe she needed to run to the bathroom.

When Marisol opened the door to the lobby, she was surprised to see it wasn’t empty like it normally was. Their session must have run over. A man, roughly in his early to mid-thirties, occupied one of the seats in the lobby. His broad shoulders and tight black shirt hinted at the muscles underneath. His jet-black hair was slicked back, giving him aI just stepped out of the shower, and I look this damn goodlook. If that was even a thing. Surely it had to be.

And he smelled good. Like really good. Even from the opposite side of the room, Marisol got hints of mint and cedarwood. She couldn’t help but notice the man’s biceps and the artwork all over both arms. Tattoos of mermaids, sugar skulls, various flowers, and other beautiful pieces that all fit together to create a gorgeous canvas.

The man could easily be a model for some alternative magazine.

The stranger looked up from his phone and gave Marisol a once-over. She was used to having men stare at her, but his attention quickly moved on to Alice. Something akin to disappointment colored her features.

“See you next week,” Alice whispered from behind her, a gentle push to get Marisol walking again.

Right. She had been here staring like a creep. Before she could further make a fool of herself, she hiked her bag up her shoulder and headed to the door. Just before the door closed behind her, Marisol heard Alice say, “It’s good to see you, Cisco.”

CHAPTER 2

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