27. Epilogue
“Let me try yours.” I leaned toward Beck’s drink, but he pulled it away, taking a bite into the pineapple garnish on top.
“Why?” he asked around the fruit in his mouth. “Yours isn’t good?”
“No. Mine is great.” And it was. Nothing better than a pina colada right off the beach. I eyed his drink—a blue Hawaii, the same color as the waves crashing in front of us. “But yours looks better.”
He smiled, handing his glass over for my tasting. “I do know how to pick them,” he said, giving a sultry look as he spread out on his lounge chair.
“I see what you did there.” I took a sip of pineapple heaven. “You are smooth, Mr. Atteridge.”
He winked clumsily. Then his phone vibrated—Victoria’s name on the screen. “Damn it. Do you mind if I take this?”
He had hardly touched his phone the whole ten days we’d been in Maui, but I knew his sister itched to have him back at work to help with a system update. He’d made himself quite valuable to the Atteridge team. He’d even managed to impress his father. They’d met for dinner last week and had been civil with each other.
“Tell Victoria hi for me,” I said.
Beck answered the phone with a gruff, “What?” Then flashed me a wicked smile. The two of them loved giving each other hell about work. His eyes skated over the waves as he listened to whatever Victoria was spouting about. “I can promise you it’s not an emergency,” he said, rolling his eyes.
I picked up my own phone to scroll through Instagram. Hailey had tagged me in a new post. In the picture, she held up a bottle of perfume with perfect white lettering.
Her caption read: Thank you Maurine’s Fragrance for another amazing opportunity!! Only thing that could have made today better was my partner in crime. #CalligraphySisters #LiveLettering #LoveAndInk
The last hashtag made me smile—the name of the company we’d started together. We’d had to rebrand Hailey’s business after Madison spammed social media with negative reviews. It turned out Madison was an influencer, and her following reached far. Reagan eventually called her off, but the damage had already been done by then.
It wasn’t good timing for Hailey, with a big breakup, and it was pretty much my worst nightmare: quitting a stable job only for calligraphy to slip out from under my feet. I had questioned my decision to quit over and over, ruminating it into the ground.
We both wallowed in despair for a couple of weeks. Then, one night, after sharing a roll of cookie dough, she said, “So what do we call our new business?”
Starting a business from the ground up proved to be one of the most difficult things I’d done. Each client came hard-earned. Then, after months of pumping the well for drops, a steady trickle took over, and before we knew it, we had a gush on our hands.
And now, a year later, Hailey had moved on from Braxton. We made enough from Love and Ink for Hailey to get her own place, which she’d filled to the brim with the most beautiful artificial plants.
I clicked to comment. Can’t wait for the next job.Watch out, San Antonio. Lane sisters are coming at you.
Out of all the calligraphy jobs, live lettering had easily become my favorite. However, addressing Grace’s first birthday invitations was a close second. Anna had been over the moon.
“Okay, okay.” Beck was wrapping up the conversation with Victoria. “All that can wait until I get back on Monday . . . Uh-huh . . . I know. You will live. Bye!” Beck hung up and let out an exasperated breath.
“Is it hard?” I asked, giving him a poor baby pouty lip. “Being so needed?”
He melted into his chair. “Exhausting.”
“Does that mean you are too tired for a last dip in Maui waters?”
Beck took another sip of his drink, then sat up to take his shirt off. “Absolutely not.”
I laughed, loving how eager he’d become to swim in the ocean. Since he’d first dipped his toes in the water in Costa Rica, he’d created a long bucket list of beaches he wanted to visit. He said he had to make up for all that lost time. I said I was always down for a tropical vacation.
I stripped to my bikini and let him take my hand as we headed for the glittering water. “Just go easy on me,” Beck begged.
“Come on,” I said, tugging him into deeper water. A wave rolled up and over our stomachs, causing Beck to cuss and step up onto his tiptoes.
I laughed and pressed into him. “I’ll warm you up.”
His hands went to the back of my thighs, and he lifted me so I could wrap my legs around his waist. He angled his face towards mine. Our lips only inches apart, I breathed him in for a moment. I could have gotten drunk off his breath—all pineapple and rum.
I slid my hands to his neck and pulled him down the rest of the way, savoring the fullness of his lips and the way his tongue slid so gently across mine. My thumb rubbed over the spot where I knew his freckle to be. Beck’s hands were busy too. One pressed into my shoulder blade, keeping me steady. The other moved south—into dangerous territory.
I could easily see the kiss turning more frantic, the two of us sloshing back to the shore, jogging through the sand to grab our belongings, barely giving ourselves enough time to towel off before heading up to our room to finish what we’d started.
I could see the scene so easily because we’d done exactly that just yesterday.
Reluctantly, I pulled away, extracting a low groan from Beck. “This is our last beach day,” I breathed. “I want you to enjoy it.”
“I want to enjoy you,” he husked, playfully nipping at my bottom lip before kissing across my jaw. My eyelids fluttered.
I swallowed. My resolve was a straw house at this point. It could be blown over with the slightest suggestion. I think he realized this because after he grazed my earlobe with his teeth, he whispered, “I’m not above groveling, Emily,” into the shell of my ear. I shivered under his grip. He had me right where he wanted me.
Or would have if a wave hadn’t knocked us both under.
We came up laughing and sputtering. Beck pushed strands of my hair from my line of sight before kissing the bridge of my nose. My attention snagged on the newest addition to his tattoo. I curled my fingers around his forearm, holding him still to get a better look.
The new ink had been there for almost a year now, but it still took me aback. The space between the bands had been filled. Poppy’s name was in my lettering, written in ink on Beck’s arm. The calligraphy I’d done on the lantern for Victoria’s wedding had stuck with him. He said he had to have it.
Having my handwriting on him felt so personal. More intimate than if my own name had been there. I wondered if Hailey would ever discover that Beck’s tattoo had inspired our new business name: Love and Ink.
“Are you sad?” Beck asked. “That today is our last day?”
I considered that. I should have been, right? Leaving Hawaii and its perfect water and fruity drinks and hikes through luscious forests. But the best part of the trip was Beck, and we’d leave together to return home.
We’d picked a cozy house in the Woodlands, and I’d said goodbye to my water-stained ceiling, jammed door, and arguing neighbors. The sense of security I’d felt when the realtor handed over the keys to our home had been an all-encompassing warmth. For the first time in a long time, I stopped obsessing over the possibility of becoming homeless. Having our own house anchored me.
My favorite part of our home was the small flower garden in the backyard. My desk faced the window that overlooked it, which not only made for an aesthetic background for calligraphy projects but was also convenient for giving Beck shit.
“I always knew you were into flowers,” I’d called out the window on a mild April morning.
Beck hadn’t even looked up from his weed-pulling. “I want to remind you that the garden was your idea.”
Even with our different work schedules, Beck and I still shared a lane for swimming each morning. He was, regrettably, still faster than me, but he wasn’t the only one to teach babies how to swim anymore. I’d secretly taken ISR training and surprised Beck with my certification on his birthday. Now, we both volunteer on Thursdays.
My life with Beck proved to be much more than I could have dreamed. My heart swelled at the thought of it.
“I’m not sad to leave,” I answered honestly, threading his fingers in mine. It wasn’t hard to leave a vacation when your life back home was its own shade of paradise.