Bad decisions were being made all over. And honestly, they looked pretty fulfilling. Was it so wrong to just do what felt right in the moment?
I glanced up at Finn, drinking in his raffish good looks and his cheerful demeanour. It was so easy to be around him. You didn’t have to think about anything – not about work or family dynamics or the future. You could just have fun. And given this past year, which had taken Charlie from us, and had been so rife with confusion and change, was it so wrong to want to have fun?
I wouldn’t be young for ever. I wouldn’t be able to throw caution to the wind my whole life. There’d be a time when I’d have to get serious, the way Tiff had. The way Noah had. But until then, was it so wrong to just enjoy it?
‘C’mon,’ said Finn, squeezing my hand in his. Josephine’s ring crackled, but I didn’t pull away. ‘The best regrets are the ones you can enjoy for ever.’
We jumped off the golf cart, and I let him lead me down the backstreet that acted as a shortcut through the downtown, taking us past The Last Word and Pie in the Wall Pizza, and then the tiny post office that cornered the street where the laneway came out. ‘Wow, you should get that line tattooed.’
‘Don’t tempt me, Mol. There’s plenty of room left on this canvas.’ He tapped his chest.
We passed by a handful of quaint shops: the Chocolate Enchantress, the Bike and Boat, and Fun at Parties, all of which boasted beautifully painted facades and cute planters filled with chrysanthemums and decorative pumpkins. I stooped to pat a passing black cat, and Finn hopscotched along some mismatching cobblestones that had been installed precisely for that reason.
‘Nice moves there,’ I teased. ‘I won’t be writing about you being sidelined by a dud ankle any time soon.’
‘Is that a common theme in sports writing?’
‘Right up there with torn Achilles.’
He bent to clutch a hand protectively around his heel. ‘Even the thought of it strikes absolute fear into my heart. Howwould I valiantly whisk you away to eternal happiness with a torn Achilles?’
‘How indeed,’ I said, shaking my head.
‘Hey, you two!’ It was Pandora and her wife, Ulissa, out for a stroll. As much as you could stroll in platform sneakers, anyway, which was what Pandora was wearing.
‘Speaking of ankle injuries,’ said Finn, pointing to Pandora’s shoes.
‘She has preternatural ankle strength,’ said Ulissa, who’d apparently been talking to Lara about the perks of wearing ridiculous shoes. It was adorable the way Ulissa always stood up for Pandora.
‘Heels are a great way to build up your calves as well,’ said Pandora, nodding at Finn’s bare lower legs.
Finn gasped as though he’d been stabbed. ‘A mortal wound,’ he whispered.
‘Maybe we should stick to our original plan of superficial wounds,’ I suggested.
‘Superficial wounds? Ah, matching tattoos are on the menu, huh?’ Ulissa nodded at Spilled Ink, which we’d just pulled up outside. Where the other shops had pumpkin displays out the front, the tattoo parlour had a mix of jack-o’-lanterns and skulls. Its gilded sign glowed, softly backlit by interior lights.
‘We’re still in discussion about that,’ I said.
‘The earlier you get it, the longer you can enjoy it,’ pointed out Pandora.
‘Mm, babe, I think that’s questionable advice in general. Make smart choices, kids,’ called Ulissa as they strode off. ‘Use protection!’
Spluttering, I hid behind my purse.
We pushed our way through the door of Spilled Ink, a moody space with black-and-white penny tiling in a flower motif and Art Deco chandeliers that hung from a hammered-tin ceiling. Its walls brimmed with professionally framed photos of flash tattoos, but not the usual suspects you might find in a tattooshop – rather, they were nature-and magic-themed ones that spoke to the unique sensibilities of Whisperwind Cove.
‘See, even the tattoo shop sings the praises of Framing Device,’ I said, pointing out the placard on the frames.
‘Niko does a fine job,’ said Trent, the tattoo shop owner. I didn’t know him particularly well, but I’d bumped into him a few times at town events. With his shock of black hair and the colourful ink that peeked out from beneath the cuffs and collar of his shirt, he was easy to spot. He also had anextremelydistinctive and disarming laugh that made you immediately like him.
‘We’re here for some tattoos!’ said Finn cheerfully.
‘One of us is, at least,’ I said. ‘The other one is still on the fence.’
Finn groaned theatrically. ‘Molly, you’realwayson the fence. That’s like your entire personality. You’re a professional fence-sitter.’
‘Have you been drinking?’ asked Trent suspiciously. ‘Because I can’t tattoo you if you’ve been drinking.’
