Page 67 of Gin and Bear It

“Ash said that a previous tattoo artist said they couldn’t tattoo color on dark skin?” Berta asked. I nod and focus on my breathing. “What a dick. It’s more common than you’d think, even though it shouldn’t be. But you’re finally getting it now. You’ve wanted it for a while?”

“Yeah, I have. Not, like, enough to find someone who could actually do it, but I’ve had this idea for a long time,” I say. “They’re the birth month flowers for June, February, and September to represent my mom and each of my grandparents. They’ve all passed.”

“That’s sweet. A memorial tattoo, then,” Berta says.

“Yeah. My mom passed in an accident when I was four, so I mostly have early direct memories of her. But she was a big part of my family’s hotel when she was alive. She loved history, and so do I, so I feel like we’re connected that way. And she loved flowers, so originally the tattoo was just June’s flower. But my grandparents passed recently, so I added them, too.”

She murmurs her condolences, and they’re slightly easier to take now than they were even a few weeks ago.

“Your family owns a historic hotel?” she asks after a pause. I nod. “That’s cool. I didn’t even know Jepsen had that kind of thing. Ash made it sound like it was a tourist shit-hole where his family’s business was king.”

“Wow, dramatic,” I say with a smile. “It’s only like that on Main. There’s a whole bunch of cool history in Jepsen, but I won’t talk your ear off about it.”

“Talk away,” Ash says. “You know a lot and you’re the only person who could get me to care about Jepsen’s history.”

My face gets hot. Usually people only play along to be polite, but Ash seems to genuinely want me to talk about it.

“Jepsen is a stop on the drive from Atlanta to Nashville, so the hotel has always been a good spot for traveling Black musicians to rest in a safe place,” I say.

Once my momentum starts, I keep talking, giving the full history of Jepsen. They both actively listen, and before I know it, I’ve talked so long that my tattoo is done.

“All finished,” Berta says to me. “Want to take a look?”

“Wow, already?” I ask. “Sorry, I basically gave y’all a lecture.”

“Don’t apologize for being passionate. I’ve really never given a shit about Jepsen until you told us about it,” Ash says.

I can’t meet his gaze. Ash sitting there listening to me talk felt good. Even if it was just him being polite.

But Ash isn’t like his brothers. He’s not exactly the type to do something just because it’s polite or because we have some fake marriage scheme to pull off.

I can’t read into this too much. Just because we’ve had a nice time and get along now doesn’t mean much.

I step around the chair and look at my tattoo. It’s still red, of course, but it looks so perfect that I immediately tear up. It’s exactly what I wanted.

“God, sorry,” I say, sniffing. “It’s perfect. I love it. Thank you so much for taking me on last minute.”

“It’s no problem at all. I’m glad you love it.” Berta smiles. “I’m glad I got to meet Ash’s wife. I still can’t believe it.”

“Jesus, it’s not that weird,” Ash says with a snort.

Berta gives him a long-suffering look. “Listen, you’ve told me a lot about your love life. She must be something special if you wanted to lock her down this fast. And just from this short time, I can tell she is special. Don’t fuck it up or I’ll be mad.”

Ash huffs a laugh and tucks a hand into his pocket. “It’ll be fine.”

Berta gives me a rundown of the aftercare I need to do. Before I can get my card out to pay, Ash handles it for me. I don’t want to protest here—this is a normal husband thing, right?—but I’m going to give him an earful when we leave.

We say goodbye to Berta and head back out onto the streets of Nashville. Everything has calmed down, so we can walk without him pulling me through the crowd.

“Berta is cool,” I say. “Also, you have to let me pay you back for the tattoo.”

“She is cool. And you’re not paying me back,” he says. “I dragged you to it out of the blue. I’m not going to make you pay for it.”

I sigh. “Now I feel guilty.”

“For doing a thing that I put you up to?” Ash raises an eyebrow and we stop at a crosswalk. “Don’t. Being guilt-free is freeing.”

“True.” I follow him and realize he’s not even using a map. “You know how to get back to the hotel from here?”