“Lots of practice.” After a few minutes, he showed me the full screen. “How do you feel about this?”
A beautifully stylized flower was drawn on top of the old abomination. The center of the daisy covered up my ex’s name, and the surrounding petals swallowed up the heart’s shabby linework.
“That’s incredible. That’s exactly what I wanted!” I cried.
TJ lit up with joy. “Perfect. As long as you like it, I’m happy.”
Warm feelings stirred in my chest, like a field of blooming flowers on a spring day. Everything TJ said was so kind and thoughtful. He was the complete opposite of my ex. Why couldn’t I have met him instead?
But I had Kiara, and I wouldn’t give her up for anything. I didn’t want to dwell on the past. Instead, I looked forward to the future. That was what this cover-up tattoo represented. Rather than looking down at my arm and seeing my ex’s name, I’d think of my beautiful daughter.
“So you approve of this design?” TJ asked.
“I love it,” I told him, nodding firmly.
“Great. You sit tight. I’ll go print out the stencil.”
I did as I was told, shuffling back and forth excitedly in my chair. The first time I got tattooed, I was a ball of nerves. Half of it was anxiety over the pain, and the other half was worries in the back of my mind that it wasn’t a great idea. Unfortunately, I didn’t listen at the time.
But this experience couldn’t be further from the last. There wasn’t an anxious scrap in my body. I felt eager to begin.
TJ returned with a thin, opaque paper. The purple outline of the daisy design was visible.
“All right, I’m gonna need your arm for this,” TJ said.
I offered it to him. When he took it, his grip was gentle. His skilled artist hands were careful, delicate, like he held a precious item.
Heat rose to my cheeks. I hoped TJ didn’t notice. How embarrassing would it be if he observed my budding crush on him?
TJ applied the stencil to my forearm. When he peeled it away, he looked it over and nodded. “Looks good. Now it has to dry for half an hour.”
I blinked. “Wow. The process takes a while.”
“When done well, it usually does,” TJ said wryly. Nodding to my arm, he asked, “Was there even a stencil placed on you for that?”
I grimaced. “No. The guy free-styled, I guess.”
TJ looked physically pained. “This is why so many tattoo artists get a bad reputation...” He sighed. “I’m sorry your precious experience was so poor.”
I shrugged. “Same. But hey, it led me here today, so it’s not all terrible.”
It was nice to hear him say that. Maybe deep down, part of him recognized our chance meeting today as fate, too.
A sudden crash sounded behind us.
I whipped around. “Kiara, are you okay?”
My daughter stood over the box of markers she’d spilled. “Oops...”
Without hesitation, TJ rushed over with a big smile. “No biggie. Let’s get these cleaned up together, okay?”
She nodded, clearly relieved that he wasn’t upset. They crawled on the floor side by side, collecting the markers and putting them back in the box. The sight of them together filled me with an odd burst of love. It was almost like TJ was Kiara’s dad.
“All done!” Kiara announced, lifting the box over her head. As she sprang upright, the weight of the box threw her off balance and she looked like she was about to fall—but TJ saved the day by grabbing the box so she stood planted on two feet.
“Phew, that was close,” he said, chuckling. After putting the box on the table, he peered at Kiara’s stack of scribble-covered papers. “Wow, did you draw these, Kiara?”
Kiara was instantly exuberant. She crawled back on the chair to give TJ a tour. “Uh huh! Look. That’s Daddy, and that’s me.”
