Art’s gaze catches mine and draws me in. “Do you ever wonder if two people are thrown together for a reason?” he asks. “I can’t help feeling like you were meant to be in my life, Tess. We’re from two different parts of the world, and in many ways nothing alike, and yet I feel more connected to you than any other person in my life. It’s like you were meant to be here, for me to be able to help you, for you to be able to help me, too.”
“I haven’t helped you, Art. All I’ve done is thrown a whole heap of complications into your life.”
“You’re wrong. You have helped me. You’ve given my life meaning other than my work. I mean, I love what I do, you know that as much as anyone, but you’ve made it feel full. Complete.”
His thumbs run over my wrists, the lines crawling up them. “How do you feel about these?”
“I hate them. They’re like another reminder of all the pain and loss, but I can’t run away from this.”
“So let me tattoo them for you. You’ll still have the scars, I can never take them away completely, and maybe that’s a good thing, maybe you should keep something that reminds youhow precious life is, but I can cover something horrible that happened to you with something beautiful.”
Tears fill my eyes. “You’d do that?”
“Of course. I’d do anything for you.”
“I’ll pay you for your work.”
“No, you won’t. If I can help complete strangers, then I can sure as hell help the woman I love.”
My heart catches at his words. “You love me?”
He smiles. “I’m crazy about you. Obsessed. Me, the guy who never got attached to women, who always focused on the guys and work. I’ll do anything for you, Tess.”
A smile spreads across my face. “I feel the same way. I love you, too.”
And as soon as I say it, I know it to be true.
16
TESS
“Ican’t believe you’re getting ready to re-open the studio tomorrow,” I say, slipping my hand into Art’s as we stand surveying the newly renovated tattoo shop. “Only a few weeks ago, I thought we’d never get to see the place looking like this again.”
His fingers tighten around mine and he looks down into my face. “We’regetting to open the studio tomorrow, you mean. This place is both our baby now.”
“I know. I’m so excited to get started.”
I won’t be tattooing anyone, of course. I’m going to be a new addition to the tattoo studio, taking bookings, reordering stock, greeting clients. This will free up more of Art’s time, so he’ll be able to continue to work on his pro bono cases, while taking on more paid work.
The structure of the building had been saved, and though we’d needed a new staircase and a substantial amount of the flooring had to be replaced, it could have been worse. Thank God the insurance had been up to date.
Art had spent much of the past couple of months working on new artwork for the walls—large black and white pieces ofvarious genres. Combined with a new paint scheme of red and grey, the studio has a fresh, modern feel to it.
While the fire damage was being dealt with, we found a short-term let nearby and it made sense for us to live there, together. Once we started, we hadn’t wanted to stop, so as soon as we learned that the flat would be ready at the same time as the shop, we barely needed to have the conversation. We both instinctively knew we’d be living there together.
Art turns to me and pulls me in closer, before kissing me with soft, feathering kisses on the corner of my mouth, across my jaw, and to my ear. “You ready to be my first customer?” he says softly against my lobe.
“I’m only your first customer if you let me pay.”
“Bullshit. I’m not letting you pay.”
“But I want to. You’re supposed to be working with more paying customers, remember?”
He stares at me, and lifts his eyebrows. “Tess. Shut the hell up and sit in the chair. Remember what I said, if I tattoo complete strangers for free, I’m not taking money from the woman I love.”
I laugh. “Okay, okay. I’m sitting down.”
I slip into the soft leather chair and recline so I lay flat. Art’s tough-looking, handsome face comes into view above me. I barely see the tattoos and piercings anymore. They’re just a part of who he is, like the cat-shaped birthmark I have on my calf, or the scars that litter my inner arms.
