Page 92 of The Tattoo Artist

This woman.

“How much was the painting?”

“Over two hundred thousand dollars.” He speaks, “do you want me to package it up for you?”

I look back at her, feeling a surge of emotions. I couldn’t fathom what she might have been going through during those three days.

“No keep it here, and no one is allowed in this room except for her.”

“Alright.”

“Thank you,” I said to the security guard, my voice sincere. “I’ll take care of her from here.”

He nods, understanding the gravity of the situation, and left us to our privacy.

I approach her cautiously, not wanting to startle her awake. I knelt down beside her, gently brushing a strand of hair away from her face. My heart aches at the sight of her, and I couldn’t bear to see her in such distress.

She was drunk, or hungover.

And this happened because of me.

Because I pushed her over the edge.

“Alexandra,” I whisper softly, hoping my voice would reach her even in her slumber. “It’s me, Ares. I’m here now.”

She stirs slightly, and I see a flicker of recognition in her eyes as she slowly woke up. Confusion clouds her expression at first, but then her gaze met mine, and a mix of emotions washes over her face.

“Ares?” She croaks out; her voice filled with uncertainty. “You’re here…”

“Yes, I’m here,” I reassure her, gently taking her hand in mine. “I found you.”

Tears well up in her eyes as she looks at me, and my heart broke at the sight of her vulnerability. I knew that there were no easy answers or quick fixes, but in that moment, all I wanted is to be there for her, to support her, and to show her that she wasn’t alone.

With her hand in mine, I help her up from the bench, and she leans into my chest. I slowly lift her up bridal style and head back to the car, I reach outside, and Adonis hurries to open the back door for me.

“They’re towing your car-”

“Fuck my car.” I whisper, slipping inside with her in my arms.

The moment we started driving, she is fast asleep.

I drag my finger down her cheek, my heart slowly mending at the sight of her. Her eyes slowly open, locking with mine as she brings her hand up and rests it onto my jaw.

“I love you, Angel.” I whisper.

Her arms wrap around my neck and her face digs into it, “I love you…so much…” she mumbles into my ears. “You’re not a stranger to me…you could never be a stranger.”

And for the second time since I found out that she forgot me, a tear falls down my eyes and I hold onto her as if she were going to run again from me again.

I carefully carry her in my arms as I approach her parents’ house. The worry inside me relaxes as her parents’ car isn’t parked at the front, meaning she won’t be in any trouble. Aunt Coraline opens the door, her face immediately relaxing when she saw Alexandra in my arms.

She gestured for me to come inside, and I duck under the frame to enter, heading upstairs to her room. Gently, I push open the door to her bedroom and laid her down on her bed. My heart aches at the sight of her, still fast asleep and seemingly lost in her own world.

I went to her closet, intending to find fresh pyjamas for her as I had done so many times before. But in that moment, I realise I couldn’t remember where she kept them.

So instead, I took off my shirt and gently cover her with it, replacing the one she had been wearing, undoing her jeans I chuck them to the side. She wore no underwear; I head to her draws and pick a black one out before sliding it over her legs and around her waist.

She turns her body to face the wall, and I sat down on the edge of the bed, my heart heavy with emotions. The room felt suffocating, filled with unspoken words and the weight of our pain.

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