Declan gets asked questions about Blank Canvas Ink and how he got into tattooing. He tells my parents that he’s always been into art and strayed towards tattooing at a young age. My mom asks him about his visible tattoos, the ones on his hands and neck.
His knuckles have “fearless” spelled across them, and he explains the ones on the tops of his hands. “The rose is Kate’s birth month flower, June. And the wolf symbolizes walking your true path.”
“He was never one to conform,” Kate says with a small tilt to her lips and warmth in her eyes.
“Did the ones on your neck hurt?” I ask, genuinely curious.
He looks at me and nods. “Yeah. A lot. Especially down the middle of my throat. But to be frank, they all hurt.”
The sunflower is smack-dad center of his neck and is framed by a butterfly on one side and two swallows on the other side.
You’d think, because of how Declan looks and acts, that he would have something more manly, but surprisingly, they suit him. And they all look super realistic, beautiful actually. Something I noticed when I first saw his picture online.
“Don’t forget to tell them you do most of your own tattoos,” Kate adds.
My eyes widen in surprise, and I swear I see Declan blush while my parents fawn over that fact.
You wouldn’t think that a man as gorgeous as him would be as humble as he is, but he takes the compliments with grace and poise, trying to downplay what we were just told.
The conversation finally moves to something else, and Declan visibly relaxes while we all fall into easy conversation, finishing up our food and drinks.
My dad and Declan help clear the empty plates once we’re done, and we all move into the living room to gather in front of the Douglas Fir that’s so full of ornaments I’m surprised it hasn’t fallen over yet.
My mom plays Santa, passing out gifts, and for some reason, I get nervous when she hands Declan his present from me. He looks shocked to even be getting a gift, and I can’t help but think about how he and Kate weren’t going to have a Christmas tree or do anything today until my mom asked them to come over.
“You guys seriously didn’t get us gifts, did you?” Kate asks, her expression a mixture of shock and awe as she looks at the gifts in front of her.
My mom waves her off. “Oh, it’s nothing. Now open, everyone.”
My daughter can’t help herself and starts tearing at the gifts in front of her. I move from the recliner to sit next to her on the floor, watching the awe on her face as she opens the gifts from my parents and me. The two that I saw Kate unloading from her stack are last, and one is a trendy, pink leatherbackpack with a big bow on the back that Autumn raves over as soon as she opens it.
“Look, mommy! A new backpack. I love it!” she exclaims, and I laugh when she hugs it and then puts it on to wear.
When she finally opens the last gift, her eyes widen. “A unicorn! It’s so pretty.” The eight-by-eleven drawing is… indescribable. The most realistic unicorn I’ve ever seen is shaded in pastel pinks, purples, and blues, and is framed in a pink sparkly frame.
My eyes snap to Declan, and he’s watching Autumn fawn over the drawing with a small smile on his face.
I swallow hard at the thought that he drew this especially for her, and I look away because otherwise, I’ll do something stupid. Like tell him I have a crush on him. Even though I don’t.
I move to open my gifts, grateful that my parents got me an air fryer to make my life easier, and that Kate got me a gorgeous oversized chunky cardigan that just so happens to be in my size.
When I tear at the gift that’s the same size as the one Declan gave Autumn, a small gasp leaves my lips. It’s a framed photo; the one from my dating profile. The one that Jordan took of me from behind, sitting in the sand while I watched the waves crash at sunset. But in this picture, Autumn is with me, her small form leaning against my shoulder. But this isn’t a photo, it’s a drawing.
It’s probably the most heartfelt gift someone has ever given me.
I wipe my under eye, getting rid of the lone tear that strayed down my cheek, and set the drawing down, excusing myself without saying a word.
I head to the bathroom down the hallway and lock myself inside.
When the hell did he have time to draw that?
I look at myself in the mirror and take a deep breath. “It’s just a drawing, Penny. It means nothing,” I tell the reflection looking back at me. I blink away any redness from the lingering tears, gather my wits, and open the door, running into what feels like a wall.
Large hands land on my shoulders, steadying me, and I look up into the eyes of the man who just made me cry.
“Are you okay?” he asks, concern lacing his tone.
I nod and give him a tight-lipped smile. “I’m good. Just needed to use the bathroom.”
