I gesture vaguely around the room.“It feels ...real.”
“Real?”
“People laughing.Music playing.No one pretending to be something they’re not.”
His expression softens slightly.“That’s kind of the whole vibe.”
“I can see why.”
He studies me for a moment.“You don’t get that feeling other places?”
The question catches me off guard.“I mean ...sometimes.”
“But not always.”
I hesitate.Because suddenly this conversation feels like it’s drifting somewhere deeper than I intended.But Damien’s watching me with that calm, patient expression that makes it hard to dodge the truth.
“Some places feel like work,” I admit.
“Even when they’re supposed to be fun.”
“Yeah.”
He nods slowly.“That makes sense.”
I swirl my coffee thoughtfully.“You guys are like a family.”
“Most of us are related in some way.But when Laine started House of Ink, that was the goal.Somewhere people can work and just be themselves.”
“Most workplaces don’t feel like that.”
“We’ve also been through a lot together.”
I believe that.You can see it in the way they interact.The teasing.The loyalty.The easy trust between them.
Skye suddenly pops back around the corner.“Lunch break!”she announces.
Alistair groans from his booth.“Already?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve been waiting for that moment all morning.”
“I regret nothing.”
She grabs her purse and turns to me.“Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“Sandwiches.”
I glance at Damien and he shrugs.“Food is always a good idea.”
Ten minutes later we’re sitting at one of the picnic tables outside the shop with sandwiches and chips spread across the table.The sun is warm overhead and a light breeze drifts down the street.It’s one of those perfect small-town afternoons where everything feels peaceful.
Skye is in the middle of telling some ridiculous story about a customer who fainted during a tattoo when something she says makes me laugh harder than I expected.
Like really laugh.The kind where you have to lean forward because your stomach hurts.For a moment I forget everything.Emette.The grocery store.The wordstupid.
