Chapter 1 #3
Jennifer winced slightly when his needle poked a sore spot.
Suddenly she was glad for the distraction of conversation.
“Nope. No sense fighting the inevitable. Besides I’m sort of looking forward to getting the hell out of my thirties.
” She’d spent most of that decade with Marcus and look how well that turned out.
She’d started this year determined to make some changes, so why not start with a new number in front of her age?
“Good for you.” Caliph picked up something from his tray, but Jennifer averted her eyes. There was a big difference between knowing there was a needle jabbing into her skin and seeing said needle. “Which leads me back to my original question. Why a daisy?”
She tried to dodge answering with an inquiry of her own. “Why did you want to know how old I was?”
His eyes never left the site of the tattoo. She found his intense concentration sexy as hell.
Jesus, lock the hormones away, Jennifer. Pretty soon you’ll start drooling.
“It’s not unusual for women to get a tattoo when those big birthdays start looming, but for most of them, I think it’s a way to pretend the clock isn’t ticking. It’s their attempt to turn back time. You don’t seem to care about age, so clearly that’s not the impetus for this tat.”
Impetus? Tattoo artist armchair psychiatry. “Where did you go to school?” She didn’t specify high school or college on the off chance she was wrong and she’d somehow offend him.
“ULM.”
Nope, not wrong. College grad. She tried to school her features, but she didn’t fool him.
He chuckled. “Surprised to find out your tattoo artist has a bachelor’s degree?”
She shook her head as more of the stereotypes fell away. God. Was she really so narrow-minded?
“It’s okay, Jen. Tattoo artists aren’t obligated to get a degree in art.
That requirement came from my mother. She’d preached about the importance of a college education from the day I was born until I graduated from high school and nothing short of a zombie apocalypse was going to be a good enough excuse not to further my education. ”
“She sounds scary. And awesome.”
He stopped working for a moment to capture her gaze. “You’re right. She’s both. But enough of that. You keep changing the subject. If you don’t want to tell me what the daisy represents, just say ‘fuck off’.”
Even with his permission, she’d never say that to him. Probably because part of her was afraid he would and she didn’t like the thought of him leaving.
She shook that thought out of her head instantly. She was just getting a tattoo from the guy, not dating him.
“I don’t understand why you keep insisting there’s some deep meaning behind it. Can’t I just like a flower?”
“You’ve left this soft, pale skin untouched for thirty-nine years. You don’t strike me as the impulsive type. I’d be willing to bet you’re a planner, a list maker. Someone who thinks before they act. You’re also intelligent and sensitive. There’s a story behind the daisy.”
His astute observations left her speechless. He was right. She’d spent countless hours pouring over images of tattoos as she considered what was right for her. When she’d seen the delicate rendering of the daisy with several of its petals lightly drifting down, it had spoken to her, felt right.
“My husband left me for another woman last year.” She hadn’t intended to speak the words aloud.
In fact, she could count on one hand the number of times she’d actually admitted to Marcus’ desertion.
A few close friends knew the truth. As for the rest of her acquaintances, she’d used the tried and true we just drifted apart lie.
“What a jackass.”
Caliph had muttered his reply, but his vehemence caught her off-guard. She giggled.
“Don’t move,” he instructed, lifting the tattoo gun away.
She apologized as she struggled to compose herself again.
“Thanks. Jackass fits,” she said after he’d resumed his work.
“Don’t thank me. I’m just stating a fact.”
More warmth. More happiness. So much in fact, she wondered if there was some narcotic in the ink that was drugging her senses, serving as an aphrodisiac.
“I’ve spent the last year trying to figure out what I did wrong.”
Caliph turned off the gun, frowning. “He had the affair and you think you did something wrong?”
“People who are happily married don’t stray.”
“Maybe not, but fucking someone else is a surefire way not to fix the marriage.”
His strong opinions made her curious. “Have you ever been married?”
He released a long sigh. “No, Jen, I haven’t. Marriage isn’t really something I aspire to. But that doesn’t mean I don’t understand. I’ve had a couple long-term relationships go south. Maybe there weren’t wedding rings on our fingers, but I was committed just the same.”
“I’m saying this badly. Marcus and I were together for seventeen years. Long enough for me to start becoming complacent, maybe even a little lazy. In the future, I won’t take my relationships for granted.”
“I get that, but I don’t like that you’re blaming yourself.”
“My ex was an asshole. The way he chose to leave was cowardly and wrong. I’m not denying that, but it would be very shallow and shortsighted of me to pretend it was all his fault. Takes two to tango.”
“That still doesn’t explain the tat.”
“I’ve spent the past year feeling like complete dog shit.”
Caliph chuckled at her description; his eyes were brimming with compassion.
“I got my divorce papers just before the holidays and they sort of woke me up. Jerked me out of my depression.”
“Doesn’t sound like a bad thing.”
She released a long breath, wondering why she found it so easy to talk to Caliph. “It wasn’t. I spent the last year dwelling on the negative, feeling sorry for myself. This year, I’m going for the positive. That’s where the daisy comes in.”
Caliph’s brow creased. “How?”
She smiled when she considered her reason. “It’s going to be my reminder that we don’t get just one shot at happiness in life. Marcus loved me. Then he loved me not.”
Caliph pressed a soft finger to a spot on her back. Though she couldn’t see it, she suspected it was one of the petals that had fallen from the flower.
“There are a lot more petals on that flower.” Maybe it would sound silly to Caliph, but to her the reason for getting this tattoo made sense. “I have a lot more chances to find my happily ever after.”
“You think you need a man to be happy?”
She shook her head. “No. Not at all.” She’d heard the same argument from her girlfriends for months.
They were full of well-meaning advice, telling her to take time for herself, enjoy life on her own.
Hell, she was pretty sure half the married ones were jealous of her single state, wishing for their own freedom.
“I don’t have to be in a relationship to feel good about myself. I got knocked down a peg when Marcus left and I’ve been trying to find my balance since then. I’m still a bit wobbly, but I’m getting there. Being in love has nothing to do with that.”
Caliph looked like he might argue, but she cut him off.
“I’ve spent the last year living on my own.
Can I do it? Yeah, sure. I just don’t want to.
I loved being married and I looked forward to growing old with someone.
It’s not something I need, Caliph. It’s just something I want.
A man to talk to about my day, to eat dinner with, to fight over the remote with.
His side of the bed, my side. Twice the laundry and dishes.
Sharing the bills, splitting dessert in a restaurant. The good and the bad. I miss it.”
He smiled at her. “You might be the first person on earth to actually make marriage sound good to me.”
She laughed. “So you’re really not a fan of marriage at all?”
He shrugged. “Not sure I’ve ever considered it one way or the other. I’ve always been pretty happy with my status quo.”
Jennifer felt a twinge of envy. She hadn’t enjoyed much about her life for the past year.
No, it was more than that. If she was being honest, she’d been just as miserable and bored in her marriage to Marcus as her ex had been with her.
Only she’d been too afraid—or was it lazy? —to do anything about it.
“Well, I’m certainly not looking to get married again right away. That’s a plan for some distant future. For now, I’m hoping to find a way to shed some of my inhibitions and have fun. I started the year vowing I would go wild. Unfortunately, I sort of suck at it.”
Caliph tilted his head and studied her face. He had a way of looking at her that made her feel like he could see straight through her. “Think of it like this, Jen. You’re a blank canvas. Beautiful, clean, white. The colors are all there inside you. You just need to set them free.”
She swallowed heavily as she glanced at her shoulder. She couldn’t see the pretty shades of her tattoo yet, but she knew they were there.
Today she’d taken the first step and grabbed a new beginning. The heaviness that had weighed her down for so long lifted and a spark of joy flared.
Colors.
Set free.
Yeah.