I hold his
eyes, ones that look identical to my own, for several moments before deciding I’m done. I didn’t really learn anything new from the bastard; most of it was what I had already guessed.
I pull the phone away from my ear, ready to hang it up, when Theo calls my name. His eyes look desperate and despondent as he pushes himself closer to the glass. I bring the phone back to my ear. Not because I feel sorry for him, that ship sailed a long fucking time ago, but because I’m curious if he’ll give me something else.
“How’s….” He drops his gaze to his lap then looks back through the glass. “How’s Aria?”
His hopelessness has my blood turning cold. He deserves no answers from me. He played with Aria’s life just as much as he played with mine and Jules. If it were up to him, I would have never known about Aria.
I give him the only thing I can, and only because I know it’ll hurt. Even so, his pain could never compare to my family’s.
“My daughter is fine. Goodbye, Theo.” I replace the receiver back on the cradle and stand, uncaring of the pained expression on his face. I take one last look at him, knowing it’ll be my last, before I turn and walk away.
I leave the prison, get in my truck, and drive back to my family.
I SIT BEHIND ARIA, my legs, chest, and arms cradling her, looking over her shoulder and helping her as she smoothly runs the tattoo machine over the fake skin in front of her. Not that she really needs my help. She’s a fucking natural. Both of our breathing is even, our hearts beat in time, and our hands are steady.
I bought her a small tattooing kit with fake skin to help her practice on. The kid still has it in her mind that she wants to work at Ink Me when she’s old enough. I want so much more for her. I want her to go to college, get a degree, and become something big. To leave this shitty town behind. She’s only nine, ten in a few months, so she could still easily change her mind, but something tells me she’s too much like me for that to happen, and in a way, that makes me so damn proud. I’m honored as fuck she wants to take after her daddy. Once she’s old enough, and if her life choices stay the same, I’ll compromise with her. She can intern under me, but I want her to at least go to the local college at the same time and earn a degree that’ll be useful should she ever change her mind.
She pulls the machine away and releases the pedal.
“How’s that, Daddy?” she asks, looking over her shoulder at me.
“Really good, boo. Almost perfect.”
She beams a smile at me and it fills my heart with so much love I can feel the seams stretching to accommodate it all.
I kiss her cheek and take to my feet. My eyes land on the drawing hanging above our TV. It’s the one that I had been working on when Jules came back into my life. A wisteria tree with low-hanging branches. A girl beneath them. I had to redraw it because the silhouette across from her was me. At the time, my mind wouldn’t show my face because I had no memories of her. The full vision came to me soon after they returned. I added dandelions because the field was full of them when I asked her to marry me. I remember them blowing around us like snowflakes. I realized as I was redrawing the picture that the tiny lights in my dreams were the seeds of the dandelions. The tattoo on my arm, the one of the dandelions, I got four years ago. I woke up one day with the vision in my head and an uncontrollable need to have it tattooed on me, along with the words l'amour est gratuit, love is free. It was what Jules said to me after I asked her to marry me. It was just another way my mind and heart wouldn’t let her go.
I look over when the floor squeaks and see Jules standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. Her smile is vibrant and so damn beautiful.
“Hey, Mom!” Aria calls. “Come look what I did.”
Jules ambles over and looks down at the heart wrapped in ivy. Her fingers shift naturally through Aria’s hair without thought as she carefully looks over the design.
“That’s beautiful, Aria. Your lines are getting better.”
“Thanks,” she says proudly. Her eyes move to mine. “Can we do another one?”
“How about you do the next one on your own. Show me what you can do.”
“Okay.” She turns back to the table and grabs another piece of fake skin.
I turn to my wife and pull her against me. Her growing stomach prevents me from getting too close. She’s eight months pregnant, and I can’t wait to hold our baby in my arms.
As if agreeing with me, a nudge knocks my lower abdomen, followed quickly by another.
“Junior is restless,” I murmur, and run my hands along the sides of Jules’s stomach.
She smiles at me and slides her hands up my chest to my pecs, her diamond ring sparkling in the light. “He’s hungry.”
“Well, then, we better feed him.” I nip at the tip of her nose.
She groans and plants her face against my sternum. “I’m tired of eating. It seems like it’s all I do nowadays. I’m going to be as big as a house by the time he gets here.”
I chuckle at her mumbled words, then bend and scoop her into my arms. “Wouldn’t matter,” I tell her. “Hey, boo. We’re going to feed Mom and Junior. I’ll be back to check on you in a few.”
She doesn’t even indicate she heard me, her mind already focused on the new design. Aria takes after me in so many ways, one of them being her complete dedication to her art, whether it be drawing, painting, sketching, or working with the tattoo machine.