“I became fluent in Cooper a long time ago. Reading you and meeting your needs became a central part of who I am before I even understood why it mattered to me.”
“Ugh, no. Lie down before you make me cry. I’ve cried enough this past year to last the rest of my life.”
I chuckle but give in to his demands. I go to lay on my stomach automatically, as his favorite canvas tends to be my back. A soft hand on my waist makes me pause, and I glance at LB over my shoulder.
“Can you lie on your back? I want to draw on your front this time.”
Adjusting, I lie down the way he asks and close my eyes, enjoying the quiet comfort we share as he works. A few hours pass before his soft voice pulls me out of the half-sleep I’d slipped into.
“I’m done. I want you to go look in the mirror, but no peeking before you get there.”
Confusion further clouds my sleep-fogged brain. He’s normally so excited by his latest creation that he wants immediate feedback, but I don’t ask any questions, choosing, instead, to simply follow his instructions.
Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, I notice him shifting nervously in the doorway behind me. I turn slightly. “What’s wrong, babe?”
“Nothing,” he squeaks. “Just…uh…what do you think?” He steps closer until he’s pressed up against my back with his hands on my hips.
Turning my attention back to the mirror, I get my first look at the artwork he’s created on my body, and my breath hitches. A stunning blanket of flowers covers my left shoulder before spilling over onto my chest. It’s a bouquet of blue, white, and yellow. As stunning and realistic as the flowers are, it’s the words written directly over my heart that leave me breathless.
Spinning, I grasp his face between my shaking hands. “Do you mean it?” My eyes sting, and I can barely breathe. While logically, I know he’d never put it there if he wasn’t serious, emotionally, I need to hear the words from his mouth.
His eyes are swimming as he bites his lip. “Yes.”
That one word is all he gets out before my lips smash against his. The kiss is rough and hungry. Breathy and slow. Tender and passionate. The kiss is everything and then some. Tears are pouring down both of our faces when we finally part.
“So…is that a yes?” he asks hesitantly.
“That is absolutely a yes.”
After a few more minutes spent kissing and just breathing each other in, I turn back to the mirror. My fingers trace over the four little words that promise the happily ever after I’ve spent my entire life longing for.
Will You Marry Me?
Cooper
The next day, Teddy is sitting in my chair at the studio. I can’t believe he’s letting me tattoo him. When he asked me to make my drawing permanent yesterday, I thought he was joking. When it became clear that he was serious, my heart almost exploded. I’ve created a lot of art. I’ve done a lot of tattoos. Nothing,and I do mean nothing, that I have created or will ever create will be able to top this moment here.
I’m extra cautious with every step. From mixing the colors to each line I place on his body. I need this to be perfect. Eventually I get lost in the buzz of my tattoo gun.
Once the last bit of shading is done, I feel myself coming up out of the fog. There, in my face—my proposal forever inked on the man I’ve spent my entire life loving. There are no words to describe the emotions rolling through me in this moment. My eyes start to sting, but I blink back the tears. I swore I wouldn’t cry today.Ugh. Who knew that after years of repressing my emotions, I’d turn out to be the biggest crybaby to ever exist?
Asking Teddy to marry me was the scariest thing I’ve ever done. Realistically, I knew he would most likely say yes, but anxiety is a bitch. No matter how small, there was a chance he might say no, and my brain took that microscopic chance and turned it into Mt. Everest. While asking was terrifying and hard as fuck, marking him as mine is ridiculously easy.
From this day forward, there will be physical proof that this man is mine. The primal part of my brain is doing cartwheels as I scoot back so Teddy can make his way over to the mirror hanging on the wall. His face softens when he sees it, and there’s a suspicious sheen to his eyes. Reverently, his hand reaches up, but I’m up and out of my chair, smacking his hand away before he can make contact.
Shock overtakes his face. “You’ll introduce bacteria and risk an infection if you touch it,” I explain, so he doesn’t think I’m just a crazy person.
“I should know better, but I was caught up in the moment.” He leans down and kisses my forehead. “Thank you for stopping me.”
“No way would I let you put that masterpiece at risk.”
He just smiles and turns his focus back to the mirror while I move to collect the supplies I need to cover it properly. When I return to his side, he turns to face me and lets me seal my work behind the protective barrier.
“Do you like it?” I can hear the vulnerability in my own voice.
“I love it.”
“Really?”
