38. Memory
THIRTY-EIGHT
MEMORY
“ K rasavitsa?” Maxim’s soft voice pulls me out of sleep. I blink a few times, groggy and disoriented. “Did you enjoy your nap?”
“Yes,” I say through a stretch, the lingering haze of sleep clinging to me. I glance around, realizing we’re no longer moving. The car is parked, and Maxim is pulling on the door handle to step out.
“Where are we going?” I ask, curious.
“It’s a surprise.”
That boyish smirk—the one that always drives me wild—spreads across his face. The dimple in his cheek, a rare sight, appears as he stretches his hand toward me. “Trust me?”
I slip my hand into his. “Blindly.”
His eyes burn with a mix of love and happiness, so intense it makes my heart stumble in its rhythm. As we step out of the car, he keeps our fingers intertwined, guiding me down the street. The architecture around us is breathtaking, stealing my attention. I’m so absorbed in the beauty of the buildings, I don’t even notice when we stop.
When I finally look up, we’re standing in front of a sleek black building. The only indicator of its purpose is a flashing red sign with the word Tattoo glowing against the dark facade.
My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “What are we doing here?”
Maxim gives me a playful look that says you’ll see and pulls me inside. The warm hum of tattoo machines fills the air as he greets the employees like old friends, introducing me as he guides me through the shop. He seems so at ease, like he belongs here, his carefree demeanor infectious.
While he chats with a tall, tattooed man covered in piercings, I take in the space. The walls are painted black and adorned with red-framed artwork of all sizes. In one corner, there’s a plush red couch paired with a black coffee table. Four tattoo rooms line the back of the shop, each uniquely decorated to match the personality of its artist.
The rooms themselves are simple yet functional—shelves lined with bottles of ink in every imaginable color, tattoo chairs, and well-used tools neatly arranged. I admire the thoughtfulness in the details, how each space feels like a reflection of its owner.
“Sophia, come back here,” Maxim calls out, his voice drawing me to the last room.
When I enter, he’s seated in the chair, studying a piece of paper in his hand.
“What tattoo are you getting?” I ask, craning my neck to see the design, but he quickly moves it out of sight.
“Where’s the fun in telling you?” he teases.
I narrow my eyes. “If you’re not going to tell me, why did you call me back here?”
Grinning, he grabs my hand, his expression suddenly mock-serious. “Do you need me to hold your hand while the big scary man pokes your flesh with a needle?”
Maxim glances at the tattoo artist—a towering, heavily inked man—and leans closer to me, whispering, “That man is terrifying.”
I burst out laughing. “You’re ridiculous.”
He grins wider. “Maybe, but I’m your ridiculous.”
My heart melts on the spot.
“I do need something from you, though,” he says, his tone softening.
“What is it?”
“Can you kiss me? Right here.” He taps a spot over his heart.
I blink, confused. “Are you seriously going to tattoo my lips on your chest?”
“Please,” he begs, his eyes twinkling with mischief and sincerity.
I hesitate but give in, leaning forward to press a kiss to the spot he indicated. It’s his body, after all. When I’m done, he smirks and gestures for me to wait in the lobby.
I return to the red couch, pulling out a book to pass the time. Over an hour later, Maxim appears at the door, calling me back into the room.
The moment I step in, my mouth drops open, and my eyes widen in shock.
There, etched into his skin above his heart, is my name in elegant cursive. Flourishes curl around the S, crowned by the imprint of my kiss.
“You own my heart, body, and soul, Sophia,” Maxim says, his voice steady and full of emotion. “You’re everything. There’s no one else in this world for me.”
Thousands of butterflies take flight in my stomach as his words wash over me.
“This might seem crazy to you,” he continues, “but for me, having your name on my body is my way of showing you how devoted I am. How much I love you.”
My throat tightens, and my chest fills with warmth. In this moment, he’s laid his heart bare in the truest and most permanent way.