The day drags. My clients drone on about their jobs, their boyfriends, their kids, all negative stuff that I seem to be hearing for the first time, like being slapped with a wet towel. At one point, I trim a client’s cuticle a little too close and make her pinkie finger bleed, and she yelps, causing Mary totake over.
I go out the back and check my phone in case Romeo somehow got my cell number from someone I know. Disappointment crushes my chest. No messages. Maybe he doesn’t feel the need to communicate all day via text because what we have transcends normal relationships. Maybe he’s still busy with whatever task he had to carry out for Elio. Maybe he’s hurt…
No. I suck in a deep breath, make coffee, and lean against the counter, hands shaking around the cup. He isn’t hurt. Sure, this has all happened so fast, but I would know if something bad had happened to him, I would feel it in my chest.
I’m certain of it.
Still, my hands tremble when I’m with my next client, my heart skips a beat each time the door opens, and my shoulders drop with disappointment when it isn’t Romeo.
An hour before closing, Romeo walks in with another bunch of daisies, intact this time, and his face lights up when his eyes settle on me. Every part of me tingles with anticipation, relief, desire, and I have to stop myself from running across the salon and leaping into his arms like a scene from a Hallmark movie where the wanderer makes it home in time for Christmas.
It’s been hours, I tell myself, not years. I was worrying for no reason. Romeo promised to come back and here he is.
“I’m early,” he says to Mary. “I’ll just give these to Sara and then I’ll come back later.”
“Take her now.” Mary winks at me. “Her head has been in the clouds all day. But let her get some sleep tonight. Please.”
Romeo’s face flushes, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfishbobbing for food.
I quickly grab my purse and my phone, link my arm with his, and take him outside before my boss can embarrass him further. I don’t want him to be afraid of her. I want him to know that he can find me here whenever he needs me, even if it gets me into trouble.
“What did I do wrong?” He’s still clutching the daisies, and I gently unfurl his fingers from around the stems. “Are you alright, Sara?”
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Romeo.”
He studies me intently, and his expression crumples. “I should’ve called.”
“It’s fine.” It comes out before I can stop it; everyone’s go-to response. “You don’t have my number.”
“I don’t like texting.” He splays his fingers. “My fingers are too big for the buttons. But I’ll make an exception for you.”
I stand on tiptoes, cup his face with my free hand, and kiss him on the lips. I hear Halle’s squeal of excitement from inside the salon and can’t help smiling at her through the window.
He holds my hand, and we walk without discussing where we’re going. It doesn’t matter. As long as I’m with Romeo, he could take me to the South Pole, and I wouldn’t question it because I know that I’d have him to keep me warm. The day’s fears have evaporated. They’ll probably reappear again tomorrow, but, in time, I’ll learn to deal with it.
“I got a tattoo,” he says before we reach the end of the block. “For you.”
I glance sideways at him. His expression is serious but there’s a gleam in his eyes. “For me?”
“I’ll show you later.”
“Can you show me now?” Heat rushes to my face when I realize that there aren’t many parts of his body left un-inked. “I mean… if you can.”
Romeo stops walking and pulls me into a narrow alleyway between buildings. Without warning, he lifts the hem of his T-shirt to reveal a fresh tattoo directly above his heart. It’s a tiny perfect daisy nestled amongst the Celtic swirls, with our initials in the center, S and R entwined, the skin around it pink and raw.
“Oh…” I swallow a gigantic lump of emotion. No one has ever done anything like this for me before. Hallmark could learn a lot from this guy who believed he was too big and clumsy to even ask me out until a couple of days ago.
“Is it too much?” There’s panic in his voice again.
“No, Romeo, it’s perfect.”
He takes my hand and places it over the tattoo. “I wanted you to know that my heart is yours.”
I blink back tears.
Romeo folds me into his arms, and I breathe in the smell of his shampoo and shower gel. “I know, Sara. I know you feel the same way.”
“I want to get a tattoo.”
