Chapter 26 Lydia
Lydia
The late-afternoon sun left streaks of pink and orange painted across the sky.
Lisa and Jerry had invited me and Seb over for dinner, and since it was a beautiful night, we had decided to eat on their back patio.
Grilled chicken and vegetables were cooked on their outdoor grill.
Lisa had made a delicious salad with green goddess dressing, which was my favorite and relatively hard to come by in Calla Bay.
“I can’t believe I’m famous,” Lisa cooed, slightly tipsy. Seb and I locked eyes, and his dimple popped as a wide grin spread across his face. It had been like that all night. Hanging out with Lisa and Jerry was a lot of fun. They were funny and easy to talk with, not to mention great cooks.
“Famous might be a little far,” Seb laughed. “But I think you could definitely get a following on TikTok if you wanted.”
“Yeah, a following of twelve,” Jerry chuckled.
“Shut it, Jerry. No one was talking to you,” Lisa said, swatting at his arm playfully.
A few days ago, going through SD Ink’s socials and engagement trends, I realized how well Lisa’s content was doing.
It had really taken off recently, with people commenting from all over the country.
A lot of people were commenting on the actual art, but so much of it was directed at Lisa, how strong and resilient she was, people wishing her good luck and congratulating her on beating the disease that took far too many, my mom included.
“Honestly, the feedback has been incredible,” I said. “There’s a huge outpouring of support that’s come through for you.”
“That is the sweetest thing.” Lisa touched her hand to her chest.
“It’s got me thinking, actually,” I started.
I’d had this thought for a while now, before I’d even seen the results from Lisa’s content, but now that I had, it had been circling my mind for days.
Seb might not like it though, so I had been hesitant to mention it.
He was so secretive about the mastectomy tattoos.
They were very personal, both to the client and to Seb, and I never wanted it to look like I was trying to cheapen it.
That was the last thing I wanted to do. I locked eyes with Seb, trying to read his face when I explained my idea.
“I wonder if any of the past clients that have come in would be interested in doing an interview and photoshoot? We could do a whole series on it. Give the survivors a platform to tell their stories, be proud of their strength, and bring awareness to the cause.”
Seb’s steady gaze never left mine. I couldn’t read his face. Did he like the idea? Did he hate it?
“Oh, my goodness, that’s a wonderful idea, Lydia. I love that,” Lisa praised.
“That could be very poignant. Really heavy, but inspiring stuff,” Jerry added.
Seb still hadn’t said anything. “What do you think about it?” I asked as I tried to casually take a bite of salad. My fork hit the edge of the cherry tomato, making it roll away. I tried again, chasing the tomato around the plate, distracting myself from his answer.
“I think that if anyone can do it right…” He picked the tomato off my plate and held it out for me between his fingers. I opened my mouth, letting him feed it to me. “It’s you.”
“So, you would be on board with me reaching out to some of them?” I had to cover my mouth to chew while I talked.
“Sure. As long as you don’t harass anyone, I’d be fine with it. I can think of a few of them that will jump on the opportunity.”
“Yeah. I can do it? Do you think my brothers will care if I tell my mom’s story?”
Seb’s slow smirk sent a flutter through my belly. He was so damn sexy it wasn’t even funny. Just sitting in Lisa and Jerry’s backyard, a plate of half-eaten food in front of him, and his inked-up forearms on the table, he easily made my pulse trip over itself.
“Yes, of course you can. No, I don’t think they’ll care. And if they do, tell them to talk to me. I’ll set any one of them straight.”
“I already knew he was one of the best, but you, dear, have found yourself a keeper.” Lisa swooned.
“Maybe. We’ll see.” I shot Seb a quick wink, and he just laughed and shook his head.
We finished up our meal and chatted for a while longer, but all evening, all I could think about was how I wanted to structure the series.
Ideas on how to showcase their tattoos without distracting from their stories.
Now that I had a plan, I was itching to get started on it.
First things first: try to convince some of the clients that this was a project they would want to be involved in.
* * *
The clacking sound of the keyboard distracted me just enough to focus.
The door to SD Ink opened, and my head spun in that direction.
A woman in her twenties walked in wearing a sports bra and bike shorts.
A full sleeve decorated one arm with colorful art.
Her long, dark hair was in loose waves around her shoulders.
A septum piercing drew my eye to her wide nose.
It suited her perfectly, and I idly wondered if I would look good with a similar piercing.
“Krista, welcome back.” Seb smiled.
“Hi, Sebastian.” She nodded in greeting, a smile tugging at her lips. “I’ve been looking forward to this all week. Are you ready for me?”
“Absolutely. Head over to my chair over there.” He smiled, pointing to the tattoo chair in the back of the room. “I just have to grab the design from the printer for you.”
I went back to working on my portfolio while Seb got his client settled in, or trying to work on my portfolio when my mind was racing with anticipation.
While Seb was working on Krista’s tattoo down the back side of her other arm, the door to the shop opened again.
I swung my eyes toward the door quickly, only to find David Wheeley, head shaved and covered in ink, tattoos trailing down his arms under his too-loose T-shirt, standing at the door.
If I kept turning my head like that, I was going to get a kink, and not the fun kind.
“Hi, Mr. Wheeley, can I help you?” I put my laptop on the sticker-covered table and stood from the couch under the large front windows so I could greet him.
Mr. Wheeley was my old math teacher turned big-rig truck driver.
His small frame and delicate features were in complete contrast to the stereotypical heavily tattooed man.
“Hey, Lydia, it’s just David nowadays,” he laughed. “Do you know if Sebastian takes walk-ins?”
“He does, if he has the time. Unfortunately, he’s with a client right now. It’ll probably be about another hour, maybe less, if you want to wait though.”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll just hang out here with you, if you don’t mind.
” His cheek twitched in a shy smile. “There are worse ways to spend my time than sitting next to a pretty lady.” Mr. Wheeley—David—was a young teacher back in the day.
Probably not even thirty when I was in high school, but I had to physically stop my eyebrows from shooting into my hairline. Was my old math teacher hitting on me?
We sat next to each other on the couch, making small talk about what we had been up to in the past twelve years since he had left teaching.
David tried to subtly scooch closer to me every couple of minutes, his arm draped along the back of the couch in an almost unnatural way.
I slid back on the couch, putting a little more space between us each time.
“Lydia,” Seb snapped. “Can you come here, please?”
“Excuse me,” I said to David, grabbing my camera and crossing the space to get to Seb and Krista.
“What’s up?”
He hesitated for a second, concentrating on his lines, before he asked quietly, “Everything good over there?”
“Yeah. Everything’s fine.” I shifted my weight from leg to leg. David didn’t give me any creepy vibes, but I still didn’t want him in my personal space. Still, he hadn’t done or said anything out of line.
“Do you want me to ask him to leave?”
“Why would I do that? David’s a potential client. He was hoping you’d have time to squeeze him in after you’re finished here.”
“Oh, I think he wants to squeeze something in alright,” Krista laughed.
Seb did not.
His gaze narrowed, his shoulders suddenly tense.
Krista’s eyes darted between Seb and me, and she chuckled. “Oh, he’s a protective one, isn’t he?”
A wave of emotion swept over me.
Protected. Supported. Safe.
Seb didn’t demand that no man talk to me. He didn’t treat me like his property, his toy that only he could play with.
He kept an eye on me, asking me if I needed him to handle this—because he would, in a heartbeat.
Just then, the front door opened again, and a group of four women, aged early-forties to late-sixties, strolled in. A wide grin stole over my face. “Besides, I’m not sticking around out here. I’ve got company.”
“Back room is all set up. Let me know if you need more chairs or anything.”
“Thank you.” Seb acted like it was nothing, but it wasn’t nothing.
He was letting me use his private room to host as many of the mastectomy tattoo clients as were willing to come.
The series I had planned was deeply personal and important to me, but Seb knew that already.
My family’s tragedy had affected him too, enough to comp the time and work it took to create his art pieces to give these women something that represented their strength and survival.
I had the most intense urge to kiss him, but I would never risk someone’s permanent ink by distracting the artist mid-work.
I turned to head toward the front to greet the women when Seb called me back.
He wiped the back of Krista’s arm, then turned to me, manspreading on his stool with lust in his eyes.
At least that was the L-word I was using in my mind.
The other one felt too big, too soon, to consider.
I stepped between his open knees and leaned in, placing a long kiss to his lips, albeit a pretty PG one.
“You and the ladies have fun in there,” he smirked.