With Melody, I feel all the above.
It isn’t something I expected when I first met her. From the start, I knew she was beautiful and funny and kind, but I hadn’t realized how open-minded and accepting she is. She makes me rethink everything I’ve ever assumed about good girls and even religious people, for that matter.
She never makes me feel like a bad person or in any way less worthy of kindness or compassion than anyone else. She accepts me as I am, which makes it easier to accept her as she is. Even with the intense attraction constantly simmering between us, there’s still an underlying peacefulness to our relationship, and that peace is every bit as compelling as the desire that rises inside me every time we touch.
Together, it feels like we can have it all—peace and passion, love and friendship, silly jokes and serious discussions, individual hopes and shared dreams.
The engagement idea was a spur-of-the-moment thing, but I don’t regret it. Now that I’ve started imagining what it would be like to be with Melody for the rest of my life, I don’t want to stop.
Still, a part of me wishes I’d kept my mouth shut for a little longer.
Melody is obviously stressed by the idea of combining impulsivity and such a serious decision. I totally understand where she’s coming from, but I’m still more concerned about this tattoo than our future together.
Many people come to regret their ink choices, but I doubt Melody and I are ever going to regret promising each other forever.
“Hey, Mel,” I call out, and even her name feels at home on my lips. “Come take a look. I think I’m done.”
She crosses the room, resting her hands on my shoulders as she leans in to look at the modified phoenix. “Oh, I love it,” she says, her voice soft and reverent. “It’s so perfect.”
“Yeah?” I ask, pretty proud of the new drawing. I added more feathers of different textures and enhanced the intensity of the curves on the bird’s tail, giving it a more feminine look.
“It’s even more beautiful than it was before.” She laughs. “Is it weird that it kind of reminds me of…me?”
“No, I did that on purpose,” I say, ridiculously pleased that she spotted it so quickly. I softened the features on the bird’s face and modified the eyes until they reminded me of Melody’s while keeping the same strong angle on the beak. “I wanted to make her like you. Beautiful but fierce.”
She loops her arms around my neck and kisses my cheek. “You’re going to make this difficult, aren’t you?”
“What?” I turn my head, bringing my lips within an inch of hers.
“Holding off for another month.”
I grin. “You’d better believe it.” I close the distance between us, kissing her with a thoroughness that is sweet and wicked at the same time.
And hot as fucking hell.
I’m turning in my chair, ready to draw her into my lap and take things to the next level when the curtain separating the front of the shop from the back is swept aside, and John clears his throat.
“Seriously, you two. Get a room,” he says playfully.
“We had a room,” I say as Melody pulls away with a nervous laugh. “You’re the one who invaded our space.”
John grins, showcasing rows of even, white teeth. It’s still strange to see John’s teeth. He shaved his beard off two days ago. Before that, it had been years since I’d seen what was hiding under all that face scrub.
“Well, if you don’t mind closing up, I’m prepared to retreat and leave you sex fiends in peace,” John says. “I finished Pete’s piece, don’t have any other appointments on the books tonight, and my lady friend stopped by, so…”
“The same lady friend?” I ask, surprised.
“Yup,” John says, a little too casually.
This is his third date with his mystery woman, an unprecedented event since we renewed our friendship a few months ago. I’ve yet to meet the girl—John didn’t bring her home after either of their dates, which is also not the norm, but I strongly suspect she’s the reason he finally shaved his face and is attempting to do something with his unruly curls.
“So it’s cool if I head out?” he asks.
“Sure. Go for it, man.” I rise from my chair, moving toward the curtain, hoping to sneak a peek at the woman who’s convinced John to embrace personal grooming.
“Catch you two later,” John says.
“Bye.” Melody waves as he heads toward the front. As the curtain swishes to one side before falling into place, I catch a glimpse of a familiar face and a sensible brown ponytail.
Judging by Melody’s gasp, she’s seen that ponytail, too.
“What is this?” she hisses, creeping up behind me and tugging one corner of the curtain aside to spy on the couple in the other room. “That’s my friend Kitty!”