43. Ember
EMBER
Two down, one to go.
It’s not comfortable by any means, but it’s not as bad as I feared. I had no idea what to expect, since I’ve seen customer reactions ranging from completely unfazed to uncontrollable shivering and even fainting.
I’m not sure I’ll ever do this again, but I’m glad I’m having it done.
Frank’s just finished the bright cherry blossom he created, which is nestled right next to Zeb’s flower, and I think the process hurt Frank more than it hurt me. Who would have known that beneath his imposing exterior, he’s actually a teddy bear at heart? He’s going to make a great dad someday.
“You sure you’re okay, Ember?” His voice is deep and rough, but his eyes are softer than melted chocolate.
“I’m good, Frank. Thanks.” I kiss his cheek, a simple gesture that feels incredibly taboo here at work, but we’re alone.
When Frank gets up, Griffin slides into his spot, humming a melody I don’t immediately recognize. As he prepares the ink and tools, he gives words to it, and my chest tightens.
It’s the little song he wrote about me.
You’re the jam on my bread, you’re the salt in my sea
You’re the song in my devilish heart, Emmy
Though I know you don’t see what you mean to me
You’re the reason I sing all day long, Emmy
Maybe it’s just because he’s musical, and that’s how his brain works, but it seems romantic of him to write something about me, even if the lyrics are a bit silly.
Is Griffin starting to catch feelings like I am?
He can’t. We can’t. We don’t have a future, but the truth is that I feel so much for all three of these men.
“Ready, Emmy?” I bite my lip and nod. He may think I’m bracing myself for pain, but what I’m really trying to do is hold back the emotional pain that nickname triggered.
“Can you do that instead?” I say quickly as I blink my eyes to keep tears from falling.
“Do what instead?”
“Emmy. Can you put Emmy there instead?” I gesture to where he was going to freehand his flower.
His eyes meet mine, and there’s so much there that I have to look away. When I look back at him, he nods, and his voice is thick when he says, “Sure.”
He sketches the nickname on my thigh with a marker, and after checking that I’m happy with it, he makes it permanent.
For some reason, it hurts more than the others, and I’m grateful for the distraction the pain provides.
Later that night, the four of us are sitting around the living room, and Frank’s reviewing the aftercare instructions with me, even though I’m very well versed in the topic from answering clients’ questions at work.
Zeb rolls his eyes and lets out a huff. “Dude, she’s got it.”
Ignoring him completely, Frank continues. “I’ll take your bandage off later and help you wash the area.”
“No need,” Griffin says. “She’ll be with me tonight. I’ll take care of it.”
Zeb gets to his feet, glaring at Griffin. “The fuck she will. You were in her bed two nights ago.” Frank opens his mouth to speak, but Zeb cuts him off. “And you were with her last night.”
Before I have a chance to head off the argument that’s brewing, Zeb turns to me. “I’ll make you some toast and tea and meet you in the bedroom, Ember.”
He strides off, leaving uncomfortable silence in his wake. Suddenly tired, I stand to get ready for bed. “I’ll see you both in the morning. I promise to take good care of the tattoos, Frank.”
Both men tell me goodnight, and I head for the shelter of my room. My thigh is a little sore, and the symbolism isn’t lost on me. The artwork they created for me is beautiful and I’ll always cherish it, but each element stands alone. The three tattoos don’t necessarily fit together all that well, and right now, they’re causing me pain.