4. Niccolò
4
NICCOLò
“M ore than I know?” Isabella raises a brow, causing me to chuckle.
What Isabella doesn’t know is that when I turned fourteen, I had Leo’s cousin give me my first tattoo. It’s on the inside of my forearm, the one I have wrapped tightly around her. A partially blown dandelion with a few of its little fuzzies floating up in the air and “Mom” written in the stem. It’s in honor of my mom, but it also serves as a reminder that dark times will always pass.
I toss around the idea of telling her about my tattoo. I haven’t been hiding it, but I also haven’t given her the chance to notice it. Even if I held out my arm, she would have to focus because of the ink that surrounds it.
“What’s so funny?” she asks, peering up at me from behind long lashes, a twinkle in her eye as the light from the bakery reflects off it. She’s so close that the smell of roses mixed with vanilla fills my nostrils. The combination is intoxicating.
“There’s something I want to show you,” I say, lifting my arm from its home around her.
Isabella’s shoulders slouch, and it warms my fucking heart knowing she has that reaction to losing my touch.
I turn my hand over so my palm is face up and extend my right arm out to her, revealing the dark ink that fills the space, then nod down to my arm for her to look.
She furrows her brow, then drops her gaze and slowly scans my arm from the top down. I see when the recognition hits her.
She reaches out, grabbing hold of my wrist with one hand while running her silklike fingers over the marked skin.
“A dandelion.” She whispers so softly that if I wasn’t just a few inches away from her, I wouldn’t have heard it. “Did you get this because…”
She doesn’t finish her question, but I answer it anyway. “Yes.”
Isabella brings her gaze up to mine, and I see the questions and emotions running through her eyes before she drops them to my forearm again. She runs the soft pad of her finger over the stem of the dandelion, tracing the word mom.
“I understand getting ‘Mom’ tattooed on your arm, but the dandelion…”
“That dandelion I got because of you and what you did for me back then. I’ll always see them as so much more than just little weeds, Isabella. It was the moment I realized I’d be okay. The moment I knew I’d be able to get through anything.” I look deep into Isabella’s unwavering eyes. “It was the moment I knew that there’s more to life than being exactly what my dad had set out for me.”