Chapter 40
Three Weeks Later
‘Curse you. I’m renouncing you as my best friend.
’ I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the constant pricking on my ankle.
The low buzzing wasn’t helping matters. It was a constant reminder of what was currently happening.
George brought our linked hands up to his mouth, swiftly kissing the back of my hand.
‘You’ve been saying that for months. Until I receive a written letter in the mail, you’re stuck with me,’ Fallon said from across the room.
From my position lying down on the world’s most uncomfortable bench, I glowered at her. Oliver stood behind her, arms wrapped around her middle as he watched, not even bothering to hide his glee at my momentary suffering.
‘If you’ve made me get something ugly indelibly inked on my body, I’ll call my mother.
You won’t be able to hide from her bat shit crazy witchy friends.
’ My hand flexed in George’s grip. Despite weeks of my endless badgering, Fallon had resolutely refused to tell me exactly what design she had decided on.
No amount of vague threats made her cave. Something Oliver took great delight in.
‘Sweetheart, you can relax.’ George sat next to me, letting me squeeze his hand to the point of abuse without complaint.
‘Don’t think you're off the hook, Blake.’ My brow pinched. ‘If you’ve knowingly let her etch—’ My words were cut off when he stooped, pressing a soft kiss to my lips.
Just like every single time he did that, everything inside me quivered. Not the best for a tattoo.
‘Trust me, gorgeous. I’ve got you,’ he whispered against my lips. My body let go of some of its tension. Until a fresh round of pinpricks started up again and I gripped his hand like my life depended on it. He chuckled, stroking the back of my hand with his thumb.
Since I’d lost the bet, I was willing to take my punishment.
George said he’d take me to the guy who had done the tattoo on his chest. Aiden Parker was the owner of Stories in Ink, a brand new studio in London.
He’d amassed a large online following, and after George had shown me some of his stunning work, I’d relaxed—marginally.
The studio was so new, it wasn’t technically open yet.
The place smelled like fresh paint and plaster.
Aiden had agreed to let us in before the grand opening.
Mainly so Oliver and Fallon could be here, and we could keep Oliver out of the press.
A difficult feat when every news outlet and magazine was reporting the news of his recent retirement.
He’d played his last game and officially hung up his boots.
And had never looked happier. Fallon snuggled closer to him, and he rested his chin on the top of her head.
My best friend had just signed a major book deal with London’s biggest publishing house.
She was in the middle of writing the first book in an epic fantasy series.
From the bits and pieces she’d shared with me, and the way Oliver would talk about it any chance he got, I knew it was going to be big.
‘Nearly finished,’ Aiden grunted from his position, hunched over my foot.
Oliver peered round, looking over Aiden’s shoulder, and let out a horrified gasp. ‘Jesus Christ.’
‘What?’ I shrieked, nearly bowing off the bench to look. George placed a hand on my chest, stopping me from moving, and turned to glare at his brother.
Oliver grunted as Fallon elbowed him in the stomach. ‘Don’t be a dick.’
‘Is it ugly? Oh God, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know,’ I whined, burrowing my face into George’s arm.
‘Do you honestly think I’d let her put something ugly on that perfect skin of yours?’ He dipped his head, his breath tickling my cheek. It was a pleasant distraction from the pain taking over my left leg.
‘I don’t know. You fell in love with me, your judgement clearly can’t be trusted.’
Aiden exhaled a short laugh. He was a man of few words, with tattoos covering ninety percent of his body. He made for an intimidating presence.
A wide grin stretched across George’s face. His beard was shorter than it had been in months, the bristles barely a centimetre from his jawline.
‘I’d say falling in love with you was the best decision I ever made.’
Cue my heart gushing all of that soppy love I read about in all my books.
A gagging sounded, followed by another grunt. ‘Ow, Pooh, I’m a national treasure. You have to be nice to me.’
‘Oh God, I’m throwing that article away. It’s given your ego an unnecessary boost,’ Fallon grumbled.
George rolled his eyes at the two of them. Leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss to my forehead.
‘Love you, Rosie Grange,’ he muttered against my skin.
I’m not sure I’d ever get used to hearing those two words fall so casually from his mouth. Even more, I couldn’t get used to the feeling of overwhelming joy bubbling up inside when he looked at me like that. Like I was the epicentre of his universe.
‘Not fair. You can’t use that to distract me.’
He continued to smile. ‘Worked though.’ His head shifted to gaze down at my ankle.
That’s when I realised the buzzing had stopped and so had the pain. Left in its wake was a dull throb. The numbing cream Aiden had put on before he got started did little to dilute the soreness. He wiped a paper towel over the area.
‘You’re all done.’ He put down the tattoo gun on the steel trolly by his side.
Fallon and Oliver edged closer, staring at the finished product.
‘See, it wasn’t as bad as all that,’ she said with a broad grin on her face.
Not willing to believe her, I squeezed my eyes shut. ‘I don’t want to look. Someone tell me it’s hideous and be done with it.’ I threw my arm over my head.
‘Sorry, sweetheart. Unfortunately, you’re gonna have to admit defeat.’
Lifting my arm up enough that I could see George’s face, I narrowed my eyes. ‘Never.’
‘Stop being a wimp. Aiden did a fucking great job,’ Oliver said. ‘I have to admit, it looks really cool.’ He nodded his head to Aiden in appreciation. The tattoo artist lifting two fingers in thanks.
George stood up and against my muffled protests, he took both my arms and hauled me up to sitting.
‘Careful you don’t get light-headed,’ Aiden warned, peeling off his gloves.
George wrapped an arm around my shoulder, tucking me tightly to his side.
Knowing that I had to look eventually, I let my gaze slowly travel down my leg to the red patch at my ankle. My sharp intake of breath echoed around the room.
Tears welled in my eyes. I pressed my palm to my mouth, feeling emotion gather in my throat, making it hard to swallow.
‘It’s perfect,' I said, voice strained.
‘Told you.’ Fallon grinned.
The tattoo was the size of a fifty pence coin. A stethoscope twined to make a heart, with two pricked dog ears in the middle.
George kissed the top of my head. Not for the first time, I wondered how the hell I’d got lucky enough to be given a second soulmate. Someone who didn’t love me in spite of all my jagged pieces, but loved me because of them. Because they made me who I am.
That’s the kind of love they write about in books.
I just never dreamed it would ever be my reality.
Not until him.