“Not even close. We still have to work up to it.”
I laugh. “How much?”
“So much.”
“Until then, what can I design for you?”
“I guess I have to think about it.”
I stare into her hazel eyes. “First impulse.”
She answers without blinking. “A pinup.”
“Yeah?”
She nods. “With movies. Somehow. Maybe a film projector. Or… I don’t know. Something.”
“You really love movies?”
“I do.”
“You ever think about doing that?”
She looks at me like I’m crazy. “Doing what? Watching movies isn’t a job.”
“No, but I’m sure there’s something you could do.”
“Well, I’d love to be the host of Turner Classic Movies, but I think that job is taken.”
“Still.”
“I… I don’t know Wes. It’s a nice idea, but—”
“There’s a lot of shit out there.”
“Like tattoo apprentice.” She looks at me like I’m crazy.
All right. Maybe Quinn shouldn’t be an apprentice. But there are plenty of other possibilities. “Like a million things.”
“Why do you care so much?”
I brush a stray hair behind her ear. “I hate seeing you hurt.”
“I… I’ll think about it.”
“You promise?”
“I do.”
I hold up my pinkie.
She laughs as she takes it.
But, fuck, it still feels like everything.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Wes
After I walk Quinn home, I float to work.
It’s a beautiful day. Blue sky. Bright sun. Ocean for miles.
The shop hums with conversation, the buzz of tattoo guns, the steady mumble of one of Griffin’s favorite bands.
“Fuck, that guy needs a cup of coffee.” As do I. I move to the Keurig. Fix a medium roast. Pod coffee is never great, but this cup tastes like heaven.
After the last twelve hours with Quinn—
Life is good.
It’s capable of being good.
After yesterday—
I didn’t think that was possible.
Sure, I’m not ready to dive into it yet.
But I will get there.
I really will.
“Fuck.” Griffin’s deep voice fills the room. It’s not steady and even the way it normally is.
Which is scary.
He’s usually as calm as, well, as the guy singing about his lust. Is this really supposed to be lust? The singer couldn’t possibly sound more bored.
Whereas Griffin is wearing his frustration.
He’s sitting at his suite, his brow furrowed, his eyes glued to his cell.
“Griff? You okay?” Fuck, it’s weird hearing his name in that tone. I never worry about him. Or pry. “Your plaything dump you?”
“No.” He doesn’t look up from his phone.
“Then what’s with the face?” He never looks this worried.
He shrugs like it’s nothing, but he’s missing his usual casualness. His gaze goes straight to his cell. His eyes fill with concern.
“Griff? You there?”
He tries another shrug, but it’s even more strained. “She called off the wedding.”
Isn’t that a good thing? “You two finally fucked?”
He stares at me like I’m crazy. “No.”
“She finally realize she’s in love with you?”
He shoots me a come on, offer me a real answer look. He’s either bullshitting me or in deep, deep denial about his true feelings for his best friend.
Griffin doesn’t bullshit, so it must be the latter.
I need to push him. To force him to see it. “You realized you’re in love with her? She wanted time to process that, so she called off things with Mr. Boring?”
“Seriously?” Irritation drips into his voice. He has no time for my stupidity.
But he’s the one being stupid. “You’re gonna realize it one day.”
“Uh-huh.” He shakes his head again—really, how can you be such an idiot?—then he turns to his phone. Stares at his text chain with his no longer engaged best friend.
It’s obvious. It couldn’t be more obvious. “Explain something to me, Griff.”
“Yeah?” His eyes stay on his cell.
“Mr. Boring was a snooze.”
“What do you need explained?” He taps something into his cell. “Seems like you have it figured out.”
All right, I’m going to have to spell it out. “Your best friend is free of the weight around her neck.”
He nods obviously.
“How is that a bad thing?”
He looks up at me. Shakes his head. How can you be so oblivious? “She might not see it that way.”
“You’re worried about her?”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
That’s fair. But it doesn’t explain his concern. This is more than my friend is hurting. It’s a whole other level.
I move closer. So I can whisper. “This shop is full of nosy assholes.”
“Yourself included.” His voice lifts to a teasing tone.
I flip him off.
He chuckles. For a moment, his mood is free and clear, then his gaze shifts to his cell and his brow furrows.
“Maybe you should get out of here. Go to her place.”
“She doesn’t have a place.” He bites his tongue. “Fuck, I’m not telling you shit.”
“Invite her to stay with you.”
He shoots me an obviously.
“If it’s so obvious why are you freaking out?”
“I’m not—” His cell buzzes in his lap. He picks it up. Stares at the screen like it’s a picture of his paramour naked.
I guess this is just as good.
It’s a response from her.
I can tell by the way his eyes light up.
Fuck. He’s so into her.
And so oblivious to it.