Page 52 of Christmas with Four Tattoo Artists

That was, until Finn spoke up.

"I saw that story you were working on this morning," he said, looking at me with an appreciative smile. "It's really good."

I froze, my coffee cup halfway to my lips. My heart started pounding in my chest as my mind raced. The guys all shot the same hard look in his direction, as if he’d said something he shouldn’t have.

He'd read my writing. My private, personal thoughts and feelings, laid out on the page for him to see.

I set my cup down carefully, my hands shaking slightly. "You what?"

"I saw it on your laptop," Finn replied, his smile fading as he realized I wasn't pleased. "I didn't mean to read it. I just happened to catch a glimpse when I was closing it.” He pursed his lips, as if realizing in the moment he’d screwed up. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."

I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. It was just Finn. He wouldn't judge me. He wouldn't use my words against me.

But still, the invasion of my privacy stung.

"That's okay," I said, forcing a smile. "Just please, next time, ask before you do something like that."

Finn nodded, his face serious. "Of course. I promise, I won't do it again."

I could see the curiosity in their eyes, a spark of interest that wouldn't be quenched so easily.

My stomach knotted with a mix of excitement and fear, and the next words just tumbled out.

"So you really liked it?"

His face lit up, his earlier caution gone. "Liked it? It was amazing, Julia. You have some real talent. Your words were so vivid, so real. I could feel the loneliness of the character, her longing and her need for more." He smiled, as if realizing something in the moment. “It’s weird. The character was a young girl, but all the same, I felt like I was in her shoes, feeling what she went through.”

Andrew laughed. “That’s called empathy, dumbass.”

James nodded. “Yup. It’s also the sign of a damn good writer when they can make you feel the character’s emotions from words on a page.”

I couldn’t help but beam.

“Thanks.” I blushed, a warm glow spreading through me at his praise. It was one thing to write for myself, but to have someone else appreciate my work was something else entirely.

“I can’t help but wonder though…” Finn continued. “I got the sense there was some of you on that page.”

"It's just something I've been working on," I said, brushing it off with a wave of my hand. "Based on my first month or so in Miami, the way I felt when I first moved there from Washington. Just a story, nothing more."

The room was silent for a moment, and then Andrew spoke.

"You know, we realized we really don’t know all that much about you."

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, my joy at Finn's compliment overshadowed by the realization that he was right. The subject of my past was always an uncomfortable one, filled with memories I'd rather leave behind.

"I mean, you know a lot about us,” Andrew continued, his eyes on me. "But you, J, you're still a mystery."

James reached over, squeezing my hand reassuringly. "Hey, you don't have to get into any of it if you don't want to. We're not trying to pry."

I looked around at their faces, seeing only genuine curiosity and concern. These were my friends, my lovers. They deserved to know about me, just as I knew about them.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. "No, it's only right that you know," I said, my voice steady. "With all that I know about the four of you, it's only fair."

They looked at me, their eyes wide, waiting for me to continue.

The room was silent as I gathered my thoughts, my heart pounding in my chest. It was one thing to know your own story, to live it every day, but to put it into words, to share it with others, was something else entirely.

Finally, I took a deep breath and began, my voice barely above a whisper. "I come from a broken home. Both of my parents died when I was barely ten. Car accident.”

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