Page 30 of Brittle Heart

I gaze into his beautiful, big eyes and ask, “What do you mean?”

“Usually, people want it to say, ‘Memento Mori.’”

I smile. “Do you know what it means?”

He pulls off his black gloves and gets fresh ones from the table beside him. “Memento Mori, ‘Remember that you must die.’”

I nod. “My dad always told my sister and me that. He said we should appreciate the good things in life because our time here is limited.”

Xander tests the tattoo machine by pressing the pedal a few times, the buzzing sound making me shiver.

“So why didn’t you choose that phrase?”

My heart aches, and I speak softly, gazing down at the stencil on my arm. “The dead crow stands for that part, but after my dad lectured us, my mother always said that ‘Memento Vivere’ is much more important.”

He looks up at me, raising an eyebrow.

“Remember to live,” I whisper.

His expression softens, and his entire face seems to change. “I actually prefer your version more,” he says, moving his chair closer to me.

He reaches for my arm, but I’m so lost in my thoughts that I instinctively flinch away from his touch.

His eyebrows furrow once more. “May I?” he asks.

I hastily nod and offer my arm to him. “Of course. I’m sorry.”

He dips the needle into the ink and prepares to start the tattoo. “I’ll make a quick line so you can get a sense of how it feels and what to expect. If it becomes too painful, please let me know before you start twitching.” His eyebrows raise, and if he was smiling, I would think he’s teasing me, but his serious demeanor makes it hard to tell.

So, I just nod. “Okay.”

The tattoo machine begins to buzz, and he lowers the needle onto my skin. It stings a bit, but it’s not very painful. I’ve endured much worse. I take a deep breath.

Pain won’t be an issue.

“You okay?” he asks, wiping my forearm with a cloth and looking up at me.

“Piece of cake,” I say honestly.

I notice a slight upward curl on the left side of his mouth.

After two hours of him working and me quietly watching, he finishes. No words were exchanged except for him occasionally asking if I was doing okay.

He wipes the fresh ink with a cloth, applying a jelly-like substance using a wooden stick. “Go take a look in the mirror before we wrap it up,” he directs, and I rise from the chair.

As my feet touch the floor, I wobble a bit from sitting for so long. He quickly grabs my upper arm to steady me.

“Easy, there,” he says, his large hands making my not-so-small arm appear tiny.

“Thanks,” I say, gently pulling away from his grasp. I stand in front of the mirror, and a smile spreads across my face. “It’s perfect,” I whisper. Tears well up in my eyes, causing my vision to blur slightly. I take a deep breath and turn to him. “Thank you so much. I absolutely love it.”

He nods and begins to retrieve Saran Wrap and tape to wrap my arm when the door to the shop opens with a ding.

I’m admiring my new tattoo in the mirror when a deep voice interrupts my thoughts. “You done, babe? Sorry, I’m a bit early.”

I freeze.I recognize that voice. I turn around and find Clay at the reception desk. Xander sets down his tools and walks over to him, pulling him into a passionate kiss. My mind feels like it’s about to explode.

The odds of Clay being with my tattoo artist are beyond belief, and witnessing those two tall, muscular, tattooed, hot men kissing is undeniably the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. I can’t help but question my own sexuality.

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