Chapter 12
TANIA
On Monday I email Damian over my lunch break, since I didn’t want to bother him over the weekend.
He responds late that afternoon asking for details on where she is incarcerated, when visitation hours are, and whether she’d be ok with meeting with him.
He seems genuinely concerned about her and willing to hear her out, which has me completely buoyant.
She doesn’t even know yet, I’m hoping we can get a phone call in this week, maybe a visit on Thursday since I have off Thursday and Saturday this week.
I had only been looking at and inquiring about NY lawyers that are more local to Celeste in my research, but I think it was the wrong move to make my search so narrow.
This hope in my chest is because of Carlo.
He did that, and I’ll never be able to thank him enough for trying to help someone he’s never even met.
Everything with him feels so natural and effortless, from our joking around to the way he just wordlessly pulls me into his side when I knock on his door at bedtime.
I asked last night if it was ok that I was there.
He simply held me closer, nodded, and kissed my hair.
It was as if I could actually feel the little fissures and fractures in me start to heal from just that small gesture.
This incredible man wants me with him enough to hold me tighter.
I’m not sure where to go from here with him.
I’m still anxious about keeping things professional at work, but I think we’d be able to manage it.
It’s even more daunting to think about falling in love with him, because I can easily see it happening if we keep going at this rate.
After trying to ignore my attraction to Carlo for well over a year, things are starting to bubble over quickly and feelings are being felt.
He deserves the world, and I want to try to give it to him.
As long as I just try, and we talk openly, things won’t go south and get ruined.
That’s what I keep saying over and over in my mind, trying to manifest it into truth.
The issue is that a normal, healthy, romantic relationship is not something I’ve ever done before.
I’ve dated, done hookups, but nothing ever resembling anything serious.
There is not even anything for me to emulate, because I haven’t seen a model for a loving, healthy romantic relationship since I was 5.
Neither sets of my foster parents were particularly loving or affectionate.
They ignored each other a lot. So I feel somewhat lost at sea trying to navigate things with Carlo.
Brian and Molly have been a good example these past 6 months I suppose.
Molly would give me advice if I needed it.
Speak of the devil, she smiles and waves as I walk into the tattoo shop after work, her usual assortment of bangles jingling on her wrists and eyes crinkling.
The shop is quiet tonight since not many people want to get inked on a Monday night, and it’s always perfect for Brian to just sit and teach me.
She ushers me back where Brian is doing some cleaning.
“You think you’re up for trying to tattoo yourself tonight? I have this station all ready for you,” he says by way of greeting while he points to the chair where he’s been cleaning. My eyes widen, I wasn’t expecting to try to tattoo actual skin for a few more weeks.
“Do you think I’m ready?”
“That is entirely up to you, kid. You’ve been working hard and doing well, and you can’t tattoo fruit forever,” he says in that deep, gruff, rumble of his.
I love how he looks and sounds like a grizzly but underneath is a big mush of a teddy bear, especially for Molly.
He likes to pretend that I annoy him, but I think he likes me too.
Someone calling me ‘kid’ would also normally irk me to no end.
Coming from Brian though, I’ve learned it’s his way of showing affection.
He’s become a trusted mentor that I respect so much.
His praise gives me the confidence to take this big step in my apprenticeship.
“I’ll do it. I know exactly what I want to tattoo,” I tell him with a sure nod, even as nerves shoot through me.
I do know I’m ready, but it’s still intimidating tattooing actual skin for the first time.
I sketch out what I want to tattoo and then get it onto transfer paper.
After I get the machine set up with the needle and grab the purple ink I want to use, I sit on the chair to shave and clean the inside of my left ankle with alcohol to get it ready.
Once I transfer the design onto my ankle, I take a deep breath, put on gloves, grab the machine, and start.
I have two tattoos already, so I know how it feels.
It’s so bizarre to do it to yourself, though.
Working my way methodically through the outline, my design starts to come to life on my skin.
It goes from feeling bizarre to feeling euphoric, watching my hand make sure lines without a shake to be seen.
I’ve got this. Once the outline is finished, I move on to doing a little bit of shading.
Brian is nearby the whole time, observing but not hovering.
Occasionally he mentions little reminders, or makes grunting noises of approval.
When I swipe away the last of the ink and clean the area, I stare at the adorable new tattoo on my ankle.
I did a whole tattoo on my own skin, and it came out perfectly.
Giddiness courses through me like a fizzing drink, making me feel all warm and bubbly inside.
Brian examines it and gives me the smallest little smile that still looks full of pride.
“Perfectly steady lines, good shading, and it’s pretty damn cute.
Nice job. Told ya you could do it.” He thumps my shoulder with his big paw of a hand for good measure.
I bandage it up and he tells me to call it a night so I can go home and let it heal.
I’m still on an adrenaline high and giddy as I drive the 30 minutes or so home, and I practically sprint up the stairs to the apartment because I’m so eager to show Carlo.
When I go in he’s on the couch watching an action movie, and I don’t miss how his eyes light up when he sees me.
“Well now, you look like you won the lottery, sweetheart. Good night at the tattoo shop?” I sit down next to him and put my ankle on his knee before I pull up the leg of my jeans and peel away the bandage.
“Look! I did that. I tattooed actual skin for the first time and it came out exactly how I wanted it to.” He gently takes hold of my ankle and brings it a little closer to examine my work.
It’s two purple paw prints, with a heart in place of the center paw pad.
Underneath the one on the right is an M, and the one on the left has a G underneath, both in a pretty script.
Carlo gives me the most dazzling, giddy smile as his thumb grazes up and down my shin.
“Furballs, you need to come here and see what your mama did for you,” he calls down the hall before turning back to give me his full attention.
Both his smile and eyes are so completely bright that I can’t help but feel their warmth and light seep through me.
“Tania, this is awesome and so sweet. Was it weird to tattoo yourself?”
“It was at first, but then I was just so ecstatic that I was actually doing it.”
“As many as I have, I’m not sure I’d ever be able to tattoo myself.
You have a ton of talent,” he tells me sincerely.
We’re leaning in closer, his hand still gently smoothing up and down my leg, his scent enveloping me.
Considering how good the tattoo artists he’s worked with are, his praise means the world.
“Thank you. Hopefully I’ll keep learning and improving.” Our eyes are locked, an electric charge humming between us. His gaze momentarily flicks to my mouth before meeting mine again with a new intensity.
“You’re perfect,” he whispers, and I know he doesn’t mean my tattooing skills.
The adrenaline and giddiness filling me ignites an ember that his words slowly fuel into a flame.
This man is turning me into pure want and need, and I’m done denying it.
He seems to clock the shift in me, and his pupils expand to make his eyes seem pure black.
All of my reasons for caution, for not getting involved with a coworker, they go right out the window.
He’s worked his way through all of my defenses, and all that’s left is him and me.
“Fuck it,” I whisper back as I bring my mouth to his in just a simple press of lips. He seems a little shocked, so I pull back.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean t-”
His hand cups my neck and brings me back to meet his mouth with so much force and passion that my words and breath are completely cut off.
He moans into my mouth as my lips part for him, our tongues tangling languidly.
His lips are so soft as they take mine with the most perfect mix of reverence and heat.
His other hand cups my face, his thumb running up and down my cheekbone, holding my face like I’m precious.
Nothing has ever felt like this. He lays me down on the couch and prowls up my body to hover over me before kissing me again and again and again.
“Is this ok?” His voice is barely a rasp. I nod vigorously.
His mouth moves lower to start nibbling and kissing down my jaw, and onto my neck.
I’m already writhing underneath him, and my panties are soaked through.
My mind is whirring about whether we take this further and head into the bedroom, or if it would be a huge mistake to go so far so soon.
The decision is made for me when the most pitiful yowl I’ve ever heard rings through the apartment.
Both of our heads shoot up and toward the sound. Carlo is up and moving in a flash.