Page 72 of Save Me

There was a moment when Ryleigh was certain her mother was going to argue, but she didn’t.

“I promise. No more fix-ups.”

“Seriously? Just like that?” Ryleigh asked in disbelief.

“Ry! Shut up! You’re winning here!” Ari hissed.

“I’ll admit that Ryker isn’t…anything like the men I was trying to fix you up with,” her mother said stiffly. “But…if you’re happy, then…I’m happy.” Then she paused. “And I have to say, you’ve never looked this happy. You’re positively radiant, so…that’s all that matters.”

“Yay!” Ari cried as she came around the table and hugged them both. “Now we need to toast to this! Let me grab Mom a glass!”

Within minutes, they each had a glass in their hands and Arianna was the one to make the toast.

“To family. We make each other crazy in the best and worst ways, but I think this was an amazing first step to mending a lot of hurt feelings. I love you all and here’s to everyone getting back together.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Ryleigh said, smiling at her mother.

After taking a sip of her wine, Kate looked at her with a serene smile. “You are the most amazing woman I know, and I love you very much. I’m proud of all of your achievements and moving forward, I promise to make sure you know how much you are loved and valued.”

Tears stung Ryleigh’s eyes. “Thanks, Mom.”

“So, what are we making for dinner on Sunday to celebrate?” Ari asked.

* * *

Ryker knew he would be sleeping alone that night even before Ryleigh texted to let him know that girls’ night had gotten a little wild. He didn’t want her to rush through her time with her sister, and he didn’t want to show up and put a damper on things. Besides, he had more than enough on his mind and the time alone was really the best thing for him.

Wandering aimlessly around the house, he eventually ended up in his studio and looked around at all the works in progress. Some were for clients, some were for his own amusement and creative outlet, and some were just random stuff he started when he was bored. As he looked around the room, one thing became abundantly clear.

Finish something…

It was easy at the convention. He had a set amount of time with a client and had to finish the art, no matter what. Working with clients was like that. But once you took him out of that setting, he was floundering and surrounded with half-assed drawings, unfinished sketches, and an unopened business.

Shit.

Raking both hands through his hair, Ryker let out a long breath and tried to fight off the anxiety—because yes, that’s what it was—that hit him when he thought about opening the parlor. He knew the tattoo community would have a field day with him if it failed. After all, how pathetic would it be if the guy who won all the awards couldn’t handle having a shop of his own? Of course, some would argue the location and put the blame on that, and they probably wouldn’t be wrong. However, the thought of opening a place in a big city was beyond unappealing.

“So where the hell does that leave me?”

Finish something…

The shop was just one part of the puzzle. There was the art staring him in the face. None of it was a high priority, but he should finish it. Finding a name for the shop if he opened it was something else to be considered, but he had no idea where to even begin with that. But the biggest piece of the puzzle was Ryleigh.

Finish something…

Yeah, he was done playing the fake boyfriend. They hadn’t been around anyone she knew and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing; all he knew was that he couldn’t keep going like this with her. It might have only been a handful of weeks, but he knew how he felt.

He was in love with her.

Hell, he’d been in love with her even before this whole stupid plan of hers. He had to stop being afraid of rocking the boat and say what needed to be said. If he spooked her, then…he’d find a way to un-spook her. If she wanted to bail, he’d convince her to give him a chance. Either way, failure wasn’t an option.

Finish something…

And that was the exact attitude he should have with the shop.

Failure wasn’t an option.

He was a world-famous artist. He’d been holding his own in the tattoo world for over ten years. His waiting list for people looking to have him do their ink or have him come and speak at conferences was two years long. Wouldn’t it just make sense to have a place for people to come so he could start crossing them off the damn list and get the work done?

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