Chapter 29
TAYLOR
I shook off the melancholy that inevitably enveloped me whenever I thought of Cal.
I didn’t want to be sad. Not today. I held Jack’s hand, my head resting on his shoulder, and we watched as the sky slowly began to lighten, streaks of pink and orange dusting the sky, chasing away the stars and the dark for another day.
It never failed to amaze me, the sunrises over the ocean.
The colors were always spectacular when they were mirrored by the water, but today the sky was especially pink, courtesy of wildfires in Canada.
There was no sound apart from the occasional bird cry and the waves crashing on the shore.
‘It kind of feels like we’re the only two people in the world awake at this moment,’ I murmured, right before a lobster boat appeared around the point and chugged slowly out to sea. ‘Well, it did until he showed up.’
Jack laughed. ‘I know what you mean. There’s just something magical about this place. I come down here often to watch the sunrise. Usually, I bring a coffee with me.’
I moaned. ‘Coffee sounds so good right now.’
‘Late night?’ he teased.
‘Yeah, someone kept me up for hours.’
He tutted. ‘Some people are so inconsiderate.’
‘Oh, I’m not complaining,’ I clarified.
‘Good to hear.’
I could feel his eyes on me. Not the gorgeous sunrise that was happening right in front of him, but me. It made me feel special.
‘I used to come down here a lot as a kid,’ I told him. ‘When Mom and Cal were still asleep. It was my favorite part of the day. I’d sketch the sunrises with oil crayons. They weren’t very good, to start with. But I got better.’
‘That’s an understatement. I’ve seen your work. It’s incredible.’
I regarded him curiously. ‘You’ve seen my work? Where?’
He had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘Instagram,’ he admitted. ‘I’m not tech-savvy when it comes to social media, but Lucy at work showed me how to find your page. She’s very impressed, by the way. Wants you to do her a tattoo.’
‘Sure, at the arts festival, or if she comes to New York.’
At the mention of the city his smile slipped a little. ‘I’ll tell her.’
I nudged his body with mine. ‘So you liked what you saw?’
‘Are we still talking about your art? Or last night.’
I laughed. ‘My art, of course.’
‘I loved it. You’re very talented.’
‘Thanks.’
‘You have a way of making the scene come to life. Some of your sunrises and waves were incredibly realistic.’
‘That took a lot of practice, believe me.’
‘Well, it was worth it.’
‘I think so. I know being an artist isn’t exactly a reliable career choice, and most artists never find fame or fortune, but it’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.’
‘How did you get into tattooing?’
‘One of life’s serendipitous moments. I met someone at a party who was going to an expo the next day and she invited me along.
It wasn’t somewhere I’d normally go, but Adam and I were in a bad place and the thought of spending my Saturday in a stadium watching bearded motorcyclists ink skulls onto other’s people skin was slightly more appealing than walking on eggshells in the apartment all day, trying not to annoy him or be annoyed by him. ’
‘And? Did you end up getting a skull tattoo from a bearded motorcyclist?’
I laughed. ‘No. And I was pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn’t like what I was expecting at all.
Don’t get me wrong, there were definitely big guys, with big beards and even bigger biceps, like I’d anticipated, but there were also other people.
All sorts of people. And I realized that day as I wandered around a remarkably clean and well-organized venue, that tattooists are artists too. They just prefer a different canvas.’
‘And so you became one.’
‘Not overnight. But over the next couple of years, yes. I still remember the first tattoo I did on someone’s skin. It was terrifying. Nothing like the pressure of permanently marking someone’s body.’
‘I’m sure it was fine.’
‘It was… acceptable. If I saw it now I’d probably feel awful. I’ve learned a lot of technique since those early days.’
Jack reached out and touched my cheek, his thumb cool against my skin as he stroked my cheek. ‘I find you incredibly intriguing,’ he said.
‘The feeling is mutual,’ I murmured back, my breath hitching in my throat as he stared at me. No one had ever looked at me like that. Then he leaned forward and kissed me, tentative at first, soft, until I kissed him back, feeling a moan vibrate in his throat as he matched my intensity.
When we finally pulled apart, he smiled, resting his forehead against mine. ‘I don’t know about you,’ he said. ‘But I’m starving.’
‘I have worked up a bit of an appetite,’ I agreed. ‘Why, are you offering to cook breakfast?’
‘If it means I get to keep you with me for a little bit longer, then yeah. I’m offering to cook you breakfast.’
I kissed the tip of his nose. ‘Offer accepted.’