Page 193 of The Trouble With Bad Boys

She shrugs. “This might sound silly, but I want something feminine and dainty. Beautiful.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sophie drawing some swirly design on her pad. The lines are delicate and feminine, like a fine lace. It’s exactly what Natasha is describing. “I hate that all I see are my scars and missing nipples.”

I point to the sketchpad. “Something like this?”

Sophie’s pencil doesn’t stop as she adds more detail, more swirls, more lines. Natasha gasps, bringing her hand up to her chest and I glance at Sophie’s face to see if she’s noticed her reaction, but she’s so far in the zone that I don’t think she’s even aware of anything happening around her right now.

“Oh my gosh, it’s beautiful.” She looks up at me, then back at the design. “Sophie, it’s perfect.”

At the sound of her name, Sophie looks up as if coming out of a daze. “Huh?”

I nudge Sophie’s arm. “Natasha loves it.”

“Really? I can do other designs for you.”

“It’s gorgeous. I don’t need to see another design.” Natasha points to the page. “This is the one I want.”

Sophie’s smile is instant and her shoulders straighten. “Thank you. I’m so glad you like it. I can change any part of it and I’m sure we’ll need to modify it to shape around your breasts properly. I imagine the design cupping your breasts like a bra would.”

Natasha nods as her lips spread. “Perfect.”

Ken wanders over to look at the design and his eyes widen when they land on Sophie’s sketchpad. “Your lines are beautifully delicate, doll. This is a stunning piece.”

She tips her head back to smile at him. “Thanks, Ken. That means a lot coming from someone as talented as you.”

“All right. If this is the design you’d like, we need to take some measurements so Sophie can draw it properly. Do you mind following me over to the far table and we can drag the curtain around for privacy?”

“Sure.”

Sophie, Natasha, and I head to the last table and I drag the curtain around. Natasha removes her shirt and bra and I trace the area we’ll be working with, ensuring I mark the scars so Sophie can cover them effectively with lines, explaining each step. “Okay. Let’s see when we can book you in. We’ll leave you to dress. Please join us at reception when you’re ready.”

Sophie’s almost giddy when we reach the reception desk. “I can’t believe she liked my design straight up.”

“I can. It’s a stunning piece. You listened to what she wanted and delivered exactly what she asked for. You did a great job at listening to the client’s request.”

She ducks her head as pink paints her cheeks, again. When Natasha joins us, I talk Sophie through the booking system, particularly how to calculate the time a tattoo like this should take, and we look for a time slot that will allow enough time as well as fit in with Natasha’s schedule. “All right, we’ll see you in four weeks.”

“How much will it cost?”

“We don’t charge for mastectomy tattoos here.”

Both Natasha and Sophie’s eyes widen. “Really?”

“Yeah.” I rub the back of my neck. “My mom survived breast cancer, so this is something I do to honor her victory.”

Natasha blinks and her hand rises to cover her chest. “Oh, wow.” Her eyes grow shiny. “Thank you so much.”

I nod. I don’t make a big deal out of doing what I do because it isn’t a big deal to me in the scheme of things. But I know it’s a big deal to the men and women who come here for tattoos to cover their battle scars. “You’re welcome. See you when you come in.”

“I can’t wait. Thank you so much. I can’t wait to show my husband once it’s finished.” Natasha walks out of the studio looking much lighter and freer than she did when she walked in. She’ll have even more confidence the next time she walks out that door, and that’s something that fills me with pride.

Sophie breaks me from my thoughts when she rests her hand on my arm, singeing my flesh. “You do all mastectomy tattoos for free?” I nod. “That’s an incredible gift, Lincoln.” She bites her bottom lip, then adds, “Sorry about your mom,” she murmurs.

I shrug. “I guess I got to see first-hand the impact of losing breasts has on a woman. Even though she survived, it took a toll on her emotionally and mentally.”

Sophie sighs and when I glance down at her, I can’t read her expression, but I want to check in with her. “How did that appointment feel for you?”

“So good. Did you see how excited she was? That tattoo is going to change her life. It’s going to make her feel comfortable in her skin again. That’s a remarkable thing to do for someone.”

And that’s exactly the vibe I want from my employees and why I gave Sophie the job. “I did. I think you’re going to fit in nicely.” I hold out my hand to her and she slides hers into it cautiously. “Welcome to the team.” I know I already welcomed her, but I feel deep down that she’s going to be an incredible asset to Fine Line.

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