“Sorry. It’s kind of obvious.”
She slowly lowers her arm and peers down at her wrist. “I couldn’t afford the waterproof makeup.”
“But why cover it up?” Am I being too nosey? I feel like it, but yet, I don’t want to take it back either. I really want to know.
“It’s just very personal. And I thought you might—” She stops short, like she’s said too much.
“I might what?”
“Judge me,” she says, her gaze lowered.
I shake my head. “I wouldn’t judge you,” I say quickly, even though my own words slap me in the face. I’d called her a streetwalker and a drug dealer. Heat rises up my neck. I wasn’t nice to her when we first met. I’d been a jerk.
“I won’t judge you,” I repeat, regretting my earlier assumptions of her and resolving not to do it anymore.
She holds her mug with both hands. “I want to be a mother,” she says, her voice barely audible.
“What?” I say, not understanding.
“You asked what I wanted to be. What my life’s ambition is. That’s it. All I want is to be a mother.” She looks out at the ocean and swallows back emotion.
For some reason, this makes my own throat tight. “That’s a noble goal.”
“Growing up, everyone would ask what I wanted to be when I grew up. All my classmates would say doctor or teacher, but I never wanted anything else. I always knew my calling. I wanted to be a mother. The kind that would be there for her child.”
Kiki stops pushing the swing and doesn’t meet my gaze. She blinks, and I know she’s trying hard to hold it together, but I don’t understand. She’d make a great mother. She’s young and has her whole life ahead of her. Why would she think she can’t fulfill her dreams?
I clear my throat as I try to think of something to say. “Can I see it?”
She looks up at me, confusion on her brow.
“Your tattoo, I mean.” I point to her wrist, even though it’s obvious where it is.
She stares at me a moment. “Why?”
“I’m curious.” And I want to get to know Kiki better. She’s living with us, after all. And taking care of my daughter. And there’s something compelling about her I can’t put my finger on.
“All right,” she says slowly. She stands up and goes into the house. I hadn’t meant right that moment, but I’m pleased that she’s willing to share something like that with me. A tattoo didn’t seem like a big deal, but she wants to guard it for some reason.
The sun slips below the horizon, and I finish my tea. I set the cup on the table as Kiki comes back to the porch swing. She sits beside me and places her wrist on my leg.
An intricate phoenix with red and orange wings stretches across her wrist and up the inside of her arm. I gingerly touch one wing. She sucks in a breath but doesn’t pull away from me.
“It’s beautiful,” I say.
“Thanks.”
I slowly cradle her hand in mine and bring the tattoo closer to examine it. I trace along the bird’s body with my finger. Her skin is soft and warm, and touching her makes my heart do funny things in my chest. Then I notice the phoenix is crying. I lightly touch the teardrop.
“What does it mean?” I wasn’t going to ask, but the words came out anyway.
She shifts on the swing. The breeze catches her scent and the familiar smell of lilac mixed with the ocean reaches me. She looks at me, her expression hard to read.
“If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you.”
CHAPTER 12
KIKI EMMERSON
