No, no, no I was not ready for this to end when I was just starting to— “Harper I’m so sorry, it just slipped out and?—”
“Look at me.” It was a command, authoritative and sure.
I did. And what I saw was everything. Warmth, understanding, grace… more. All wrapped up into the eyes that inspired the very tattoo we were working on together. And without hesitation, he leaned forward and kissed me, taking my lips in a slow sweet embrace that sent my nerves firing like rockets all over. He swiped his soft tongue in for only a few moments. Still, I felt my pulse hammering in my throat, my entire body aching with a need that was not only sexual but felt necessary for breathing as he looked at me.
“Never apologize for that, okay?” he said, not demanding an explanation or an answer. He just smirked, but underneath I could see there was a genuine smile there, too. “And let it slip whenever you want.”
Huh?
He kissed my shoulder, a move I was coming to love no matter when it was delivered, and we continued working on the tattoo. All the while I reeled over what the heck he could mean by that.
“All done, Boss,” he announced after a couple more minutes. “What do you think?”
Leaning back against his chest I took in the design we’d drawn. From this angle it was upside down but I could still see that it was beautiful. Harper had really put his touch on my rough design. And surprisingly, it came out pretty decent, although the few lines that he let me take full control of were a little off. He promised he could fixthose, so I tried not to fixate, but looking at it I couldn’t seem to ignore my uncertain lines next to his steady persistent ones.
It was too much like the two of us. Me unsure and flailing through life while he was so put together and certain of himself. Yet altogether we made a beautiful picture, differences and all.
The stupid bear shouldn’t have choked me up, yet I found myself swallowing thickly and masking emotion with a watery laugh. “It’s kind of wiggly.”
“Wiggly bear,” he said. “I love it. Thank you.”
Thank you.
He was thanking me? After he was the one to encourage me at every turn? After he was the one taking control of this thing and guiding us higher, farther, deeper than I imagined we’d ever go.
I should be the one thanking him, but the prospect of explaining to him how he made me feel brought this overwhelming pressure to my chest, stopping me cold.
Looking at him now, with my drawing on his skin and so many beautiful words coming out his mouth, yeah, my chest hurt.
It hurt real, real bad.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
AUGUSTUS
My chest hurt. It hurt real, real bad.
“Mom?” Was that my voice I was hearing? It didn’t sound like me. My body had gone numb, my ears roaring with blood as soon as I lifted my eyes to the shop door and saw the ghost of my past standing right in front of me. “What are you doing here?”
“Auggie.” That voice breathed out, both relieved and apprehensive as she looked around herself. Taking a step further inside she landed her eyes on me. They bounced everywhere, from my head to my arms, to the gloves I was just stripping off my hands as she walked in. “It’s actually you.”
I was, without a shadow of a doubt, going to be sick. Just looking at her made my head hurt. It made myface burn and my stomach clench, and my skin crawl, and made me want to run away.
She looked just like Mar. Always had, and I guess always would. For a short second when I looked up earlier, I thought the world had stopped. I thought the sky had opened up and spit my little sister out in front of me in a crazy turn of events. Reality soon set in, my eyes adjusting on the clean slacks, modest wool coat, and short hairstyle the woman was draped in. It was all Mom. She had something of a glow about her. It had dimmed a lot after Mar disappeared, but it was something that was innate to her.
I felt it even now as she stared at me from her spot by the door. I hated it.
“Yeah. That tends to happen when you walk into my shop, Mom,” I said.
“Auggie, is that how you want to be after all this time? A smart aleck?” She held no contempt in her voice. She rarely did.
I sighed, surprised I even had that much air in my lungs after holding my breath for so long. “How would you like me to react?”
As if she wasn’t in the middle of a tattoo shop full of people she didn’t know, Mom spread her arms wide. Her designer bag swinging on her elbow and her short hair flipping over her ears. My ears started ringing. My throat stinging, my head swimming.
Dammit.
Couldn’t she just be an asshole? Dad had no issue doing it. Couldn’t she just hop on the bandwagon and make this easy? Say something insulting and make me never want to see her again? I didn’t want to see her. I hadn’t wanted to see her. But not because I hated her. I didn’t want to see her because of the opposite. And looking at the woman who brought me into this world yet also stood by and watched as my sister walked out of ours, I felt conflicted.
