Page 88 of Tony

He shrugs. “That’s it. Just kisses. But the cool part is the circle quote around the X’s.”

I expect him to keep going but he falls silent. “Well? Are you going to tell me? Or do I have to hunt down a magnifying glass and read them myself?”

“It’s a snippet of a poem by John Keats.”

My eyebrows lift up in surprise.

“I’m a romantic, Belinda Baker. I thought you’d have figured that out by now.”

“Just tell me what they say.”

“They both say the same thing. ‘And now a soft kiss—Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss.’”

“Endless. Bliss. That’s your promise?”

He looks up at me with straight lips and a serious face. “Not just one promise. Two. Double X’s, remember?”

“Four then. A quadruple promise because you’ve got two on each side.”

“And four makes a box,” he says, his lips lifting up into a smirky smile. “Surrounded by kisses on all sides.”

I pause here and give myself a moment to take it all in. “For a handful of X’s and some too-tiny words, that’s kinda deep, Vann.”

“It kinda is.”

I look at all the other words on his body. I never thought much about them, but now… I guess I see them in a new light. “Are they all deep and poetic like that?”

“No. There’s a grocery list here.” He twists and points at the words inked down his right ribcage. “Milk. Eggs. Cheese—”

“What the—”

“My grandpa did that on my twenty-first birthday after I passed out drunk.” Vann shakes his head. “For an old dude, he’s kind of incorrigible. No wonder this town thinks we’re crazy.”

I laugh, picturing this.

“So then”—he twists again and points to his left ribcage—“I started another list on this side with the names of Ronnie’s little girls.” He shrugs. “I’m into symmetry.”

But that’s when I notice the new tattoo on the inside of his arm. The one he was inking yesterday after our fight.

The clear bandage has been removed but it’s still shiny with this morning’s application of antibacterial ointment. I reach for his arm and turn it a little, so I can read the words. “‘Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength. But loving someone deeply gives you courage.’”

When I stop reading, I realize he’s gone perfectly still. He tilts his head up at me, blue eyes searching mine.

“You inked this yesterday.”

He nods.

“After our fight.”

He makes a little motion with his head. A very small shrug. “I don’t know why I love you, Belinda. I just do. I dropped you off yesterday because I was angry that you were being honest. You have always been honest about it. You have never led me on.”

“Vann—”

“No. Just listen. I love you. It’s not the kind of love that comes and goes. It’s not lust, either. We can stop right here, and you can go home alone, and I’ll be fine. You can make me wait another eight years for another chance, and I’ll be fine. This love I have for you… it’s the kind that lasts through things. Past thing. Into new things.” He shrugs again, presses his lips together and sighs. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. You’re not going to lose me. It’s just not that kind of love, Belinda.”

I hold my breath, and then suddenly it comes spilling out and I push him back on the bed. It’s not about the tattoo. Although I love the tattoo.

It’s about him.