Page 120 of Midnight Ink

Because we both know why the sunshine is missing.

He’s not here.

“Uh, hey.” I almost knock everything off the desk as I jolt at the voice. I see a Black man standing by the door of my shop. Shit, I need to get it together. My head is a mess. Maybe I should close? I have an appointment but maybe I can cancel. It’s not like I even feel like tattooing most days.

I don’t feel like breathing most days.

I turn my attention to the handsome man standing awkwardly in my doorway. His braids are pulled up into a bun, the sides of his head shaved. He has a brow and lip piercing with gauges in his ear, but no tattoos that I can see on his arms poking through the loose tank top he’s wearing.

I lift my head up, wiping my eyes. “Shit, sorry, I thought it said ‘open.’”

“Oh uh, it is. I am, I mean, I um.” I laugh. “Sorry, yeah, we’re open.”

His lips break out into a smile as he thumbs at the door. “I can come back.”

“No. It’s okay. Just. I’m okay.”

“Bad breakup?” he hedges with a sad little smile.

“I fucking wish.” I grab Anna’s book and open it. I know I have an afternoon client, but I’ve got some time. “Do you want a tattoo?”

“Uh, yeah. My first one.” He laughs. “I’ve uh, been tattooing a bit, practicing on fake skin, but I don’t have any of my own. Thought I should probably change that.”

“You just started tattooing?” He looks like he’s about my age if not older.

“Yeah, um, I’ve drawn all my life. I love to create art. Someone suggested I try and I actually love it. I’m still really new.”

“You just picked it up like that?”

He shrugs. “I needed a change in my life. Something to jar me awake I guess. I wasn’t happy at my old job and unfortunately my mom passed a year ago. She left me some money and I don’t want to waste that gift. I’m trying to make myself happy.”

My brows lift. “Wow.”

“And I sometimes overexplain shit. I . . . that was a lot. You don’t care. You’re like, ‘Do you want a fucking tattoo or not, man?’” He laughs nervously, giving me finger guns. “And I will see you later.”

“No, wait.” I smile, then can’t help laughing. “It’s okay. That’s beautiful. That’s, wow.” My eyes start to water. Ah, fuck, not in front of a stranger. “Shit, sorry.”

He walks a little closer. “Seriously, are you alright? And don’t just say yes. You can share something equally personal, so I don’t feel like an idiot.” That makes me laugh harder. Great. Nice laugh-cry combo in front of a stranger.

“No. No, I’m not alright.” I laugh through the burn in my eyes. “Today is the one-month anniversary of my boyfriend’s and my shop opening.”

“Oh shit, congrats, man.”

“And the third month to the day he was killed in a car accident.” I watch his face drop, then his brown eyes widen. “Yeah, that’s how my day’s going.”

“Oh shit. I’m sorry, man. That’s horrible.” I swallow, looking away. Maybe a tattoo is what I need to get my mind off it.

“What did you have in mind for the tattoo?”

“Oh, you don’t have to. I get it. I mean, I don’t, I mean. Fuck. I’m sorry. That’s intense. I can come back. Really.”

“Take a breath,” I laugh. “It’s okay. I actually want to do this. What do you want . . .”

“Julian.”

“What would you like, Julian?”

“Um, I don’t know. I like animals. Maybe something on my ribs?”