Rome nodded. “I’ll see what Izzy has planned, and if there’s nothing going on, I’ll come over for the day.”
He pulled out his phone.
“I know you don’t usually like sharing your work, but do you mind if I send a picture to Izzy? She’s going to fucking love it.” He wiggled his phone in my direction.
I pushed the paper toward him. “Sure.”
Even though it wigged me out to have it happen, I let him do it. I always let them do it.
It still made me curious as hell to see that people actually liked my work enough to allow me to permanently tattoo it to their bodies.
“You know,” Jubilee said offhandedly. “I asked him to tattoo me once, and he told me I could go fuck a goat.”
There was a long pause at the table for a few long seconds before Dad burst out laughing. Pete grinned at his daughter, and Rome chuckled softly, obviously relieved to have something else to think about.
I knew why she’d done it—to help.
That was part of her nature to know when someone was hurting and try to help.
That was why she was so good at her job—selling death.
I turned to her and glared. “If you hadn’t been making fun of me at the time, I might’ve actually believed you.”
She frowned, looking offended.
“I was being truthful,” she countered.
My brows rose.
“You know,” Jubilee said softly so that only I could hear. “That coffin was the most beautiful I’ve ever seen. You’ll never hear me admit it again, but I just wanted to tell you it once, just in case you doubted yourself.” She paused, more loudly this time so that the others could hear. “I love your work in general. You’re the master at what you do.”
I blinked at her in surprise.
“What?” she asked. “Sometimes I have nice things to say.”
“Not often,” I countered.
And never when it came to me or my work.
“And I really did want a tattoo,” she said. “I’ll never go to anyone else.”
That surprised me, too.
“I thought you were joking,” I told her.
She shook her head. “I wasn’t. I really liked the drawing of their names that you’d done. I wanted them tattooed on my forearm exactly like that.”
Well, now I felt like shit.
I’d thought she was joking.
Now I could see that she wasn’t.
“If we have time while we’re there, I’ll do it, too,” I mumbled, not liking the thought of hurting her feelings for some reason.
Which was funny, because I teased and goaded her all day, every day, every time we saw each other. Why would I care if I hurt her feelings?
But I did.
Mostly because I knew that this one time, I’d actually accomplished it.
“I won’t have time,” she said. “I’ll be spending most of my time working. But I’ll take you up on that when we get back.”
Silence.
I turned to see both of our fathers staring at us with various shades of disbelief on their faces.
“What?” I asked the two of them.
“I’m honestly just shocked that actual nice words can come out of y’all’s mouths regarding each other,” Dad said.
Rome chuckled and stood up, his hand on the back of his neck.
“Y’all should really just get with each other,” he said, sounding happy again. “It’s only a matter of time.”
With that parting bomb of a comment, he walked away and didn’t look back, leaving the rest of the table sitting there in shock.
Silence commenced as everyone waited for someone to speak.
My father and Jubilee’s just stared at us while we tried to figure out what in the hell to say to Rome’s parting comment.
I was fairly sure that Jubilee had the same thoughts that I did.
Been there, done that. Want to do it again.
“No,” Pete said, suddenly sitting up straight. “No.”
My father looked at him, his face a mask of confusion.
Pete’s eyes were all for us, though.
“No, what?” Jubilee tried to play it off. “What’s your deal?”
The only problem with her trying to play it cool was her usually pale skin was a lovely shade of pink, and there was no way in hell her father wouldn’t realize that she was lying.
Hell, just staring at her, I could tell she was.
Even if you didn’t take into account her rosy cheeks, there were her eyes that were darting this way and that. Then there were her hands that were ringing away at the paper napkin that was tearing with her efforts to appear calm.
I pressed my closed fist to my forehead and counted to ten, knowing it wouldn’t take my father long to figure out what his best friend already had.
It didn’t take long.
“You…I…what…you’ve got to be kidding me.” Pete was stuttering.
One second all was calm, and the next my father exploded with laughter.
Big, braying guffaws of it.
I moved my fist from my head, dropped my head to the table, and banged it against the cool tile a few times before I straightened.