Page 88 of Tattoo My Heart
“When did you get this?” My voice sounds deep and gruff when I speak.
“Y-yesterday.”
I start pulling at the tape, mindful of how sensitive her skin must still be. I smile when I see that it all looks as it should be, and she listened to the aftercare instructions.
Once finally off, I drop the bandage on the grass next to us. My eyes are staring at what now adorns her beautiful perfect skin. My name.
“D-do you, uh, do you like it?”
The nervousness in her voice echoes everything I am feeling for her right now.
“I can’t believe you did this.”
Under her left breast, in a painful spot over her ribs, there’s a red heart. The design on it is beautiful, giving the onlooker the illusion of it pulsing as she moves. It is small enough where it’s not obnoxious, but big enough where you can see it clearly. And right in the middle of it, in beautiful cursive letters, it shows that she is mine.
Cal Prentice’s heart.
I get up on my knees before leaning forward to kiss her skin softly.
“This is mine, Evie,” I whisper to her. She runs her hands over my freshly shaved hair, her body tense, as if she is holding back tears. “You are mine,” I repeat. “Your heart, your body… Everything that is you.”
“Yes,” she whispers in agreement.
“And I am yours.” That is something I need her to believe. “Forever, Evie.”
She drops to her knees in front of me, her hands wrapping behind my head.
“I love you, Cal,” she whispers. “I want to be yours forever. And I need you to grow your hair back.”
She says that last part just as I am about to kiss her. We both burst into laughter and fall back to our sides.
It all went according to the plan. I got the girl, and she definitely got me. She is who I want to laugh with until the end of my days.
Forever.
The end. For now.
EPILOGUE
Four years later
“Doyou think you’ll ever get married?”
Carrie looks up at me from the baby she’s holding in her arms. This is their second, a girl this time.
“We talked about it once,” she smiles at me. “We decided it wasn’t for us.”
I bob my head up and down in understanding as I play with the plastic straw that’s in my fruit smoothie.
“You’ve been bringing this up a lot lately.” My best friend watches me with a shrewd look on her face. “Is there a reason for it?”
“Bring what up?” I decide that playing dumb is the way to go.
“Me and James getting married,” she clarifies, although, I’m sure she knows I’m stalling. “Does it bother you that we’re not married?” Amusement is clear in her voice.
I am genuinely surprised by her question. “Why would that bother me?”
“Well, like I just said, you’ve been bringing up marriage on a regular basis lately.”
