“Yeah?” What else could she fucking want?
“You look fantastic. It was really great seeing you.” I nod, unable to form words because, well, I don’t really know what to say. “I’m not with anyone. Not married. No kids. Just thought I’d make that clear up front . . . you know, in case you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t.” I so was.
“Are you . . . married?” I can see it on her face. My answer matters. As much as I want to lie and say yes, I can’t.
I shake my head slowly. She smiles, seemingly pleased with my response, then walks out the door, shutting it quietly behind her. I bury my face in my hands.
What the fuck did I just do?
“CRAP. THIS IS GOING to hurt.” I cringe when the buzzing noise starts up, even though it’s not even directed toward me.
“Like a bitch. It’s going to hurt like a bitch.” I glare at Mia but she just laughs. “I can’t believe we’re doing this!” she squeals. “Well, I can believe I’m doing this, but not you.” She was so excited when I told her I made plans to cross off my first bucket list item. Mia already has a few tattoos, but I don’t have any and that’s about to change. Soon, I will be inked.
“Why not me?” I scoff.
“Seriously? Do you have to ask?”
“No,” I concede, hating that I’m so damn predictable. I don’t want to be predictable. “Mike?” I whisper, not wanting Mia to hear me.
“Yup?”
“I don’t want a pink ribbon.” Ohmigod. I can’t believe I’m doing this.
“Sweetheart, I’ll do whatever you want, but you need to decide now.” And I do . . . I make a split-second decision.
“Can I have a piece of paper?” He hands me a notepad and pen. I quickly write down what I want it to say and hand it back. Mike looks at it for several seconds, grabs the pen and starts drawing on the paper. He flips it around and I smile. “It’s perfect.” I look up at him and nod. “Let’s do that.”
“Are you sure?” he confirms. “It’s permanent. Once it’s there . . . it’s there.”
“I’ve only got one life, Mike.” My voice is laced with conviction. His warm brown eyes smile down at me and he nods.
“Give me a few minutes to get this ready.” He walks away and I’m left staring at Mia. She’s lying on her stomach, her eyes closed. Her shorts are pushed low on her hip, and I watch in awe as the needle penetrates her skin several times before the blood is wiped away.
“Does it hurt?” Mia opens her eyes and surprisingly, she looks sleepy.
She shrugs. “Nothing compared to what you’ve been through.” Her eyes flick over to the empty seat next to my table and then back at me. “What’s going on?”
I smile, content with my decision. “I changed my mind.”
Her eyes widen. “No pink ribbon or no tattoo?” she asks.
“No pink ribbon.”
“What are you getting?” She won’t judge me, but for some reason I’m not ready to tell her. Right now, I’m content just knowing that I’m stepping out of my box—in a big way.
“You’ll have to wait and see,” I tease, knowing it’ll tick her off.
“Bitch,” she huffs, eliciting a laugh from the tatted-up man at her side.
“Okay, Laney. Are you ready?” Mike slides his chair next to my reclined seat and sits down. I watch as he opens a couple of sealed packages.
“As I’ll ever be.”
Crap. What did I do? I can’t believe I got a freaking tattoo. And holy hell, did it hurt.
Standing in front of my mirror, I strip out of my shirt, lift my right arm and slowly peel back the thick white bandage along the side of my torso. My tattoo sits off to the side of where my breast should be and is easily covered up when my arm hangs down at my side. Mike told me to leave it covered for four to six hours and it’s been five, so I think I’m good. With the aftercare instructions in front of me, I methodically perform each step, since the last thing I need right now is an infection of some sort.