Page 44 of A More Than Mayhem Christmas

I have no idea what that means, but I plop the veil on my head anyway.

“Hot,” Roman declares, shoving his hands in his pockets as he rocks on his heels.

My head tilts to the side as I try to get a read on him. “Is this your thing?” I ask. “Meet a girl, marry her?”

He chuckles, but doesn’t respond.

“I bet you’re a one and done kind of guy, huh? Mister One-Night Stand?”

He pushes forward, leans inrealclose. “It’s the tattoos, isn’t it?”

I bite back a burst of laughter, then look over at my friends. They’re all huddled around the two cakes while Logan, Cam and Dylan argue about which one looks the best. I turn to Roman, grab his arm, and roll up his sleeve, inspecting the aforementioned tattoos. It’s too dark to see them intricately, but I can make out a cross, a bird, and a ribbon flowing through them. “Where’d you get them done? Prison?” I joke.

“No, but I met the guy who does them there,” he deadpans.

I look up, expecting the same smirk from earlier. It’s no longer there. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

He shakes his head. “No jokes.”

I focus on his arm again, twist it to get a better look. There’s an unopened envelope with the initials AB on the corner. I’m noteven going to question who AB is. Instead, I ask, “What were you in prison for?”

“The usual,” he replies, all nonchalant.

I’ve met people who have been in prison before, but I never really cared enough to know why, or how, they got there. I care about Roman, though, and I don’t know what that means yet. “Elaborate?”

“Possession with intent to sell.”

Hmm. “Are you still involved with that?”

“I wouldn’t be working two jobs, six days a week, if I was.”

“Valid point.” I trace the ribbon with a single finger. “Did you do it for kicks or out of necessity?”

“The latter.”

I glance up at him. He watches me back. “So, you met your tattoo artist in prison?”

“Yep.” He takes his arm back, pulling the sleeve back down. “He was my cellmate. He’s this forty-five-year-old short, stocky Filipino dude named Juan. Amazing artist, but didn’t know what to do with his talent, so I told him he should look into tattooing. He got out before me, but when I was released, he was out in the parking lot waiting for me.”

I didn’t ask for all this information, but I like the fact that he’s willing to supply it. And I like it even more that he doesn’t hide who he is orwas.

“He brought me back to his house, introduced me to his wife and kids, and showed me the tattoo gear he’d bought. He hadn’t used it yet, so I let him practice on me. I don’t even know half the shit that’s on my body.”

I’m smiling, and I don’t really know why. “I like Juan,” I tell him.

He laughs at that. “Everyone likes Juan. It’s kind of impossible not to.”

“So, I take it you still keep in touch.”

“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “I spent the day with him and his family and half the neighborhood.” He motions behind me, to Jake and Micky walking up the dock, hand in hand. “You ready to be Mrs. Baker?”

I grin up at him. “You just saved me from flipping through my old yearbooks, Roman Baker.”

He rolls his eyes, then blesses me with that smirk again. “Let’s do the damn thing.”

“What song do you want?” Amanda asks.

I freeze a moment, thinking, and giggle to myself as I make my way over to her and whisper my song choice in her ear.

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