Page 43

Tess
2018
When Henley askedme to take her to get a tattoo, I almost said no. Not because I didn’t want to or because I thought Con would get mad at me. I didn’t want to take her because I knew he’d get mad at me if I took her to anyone but Went.
Wentworth Fiorella.
My ex-boyfriend.
Even though that’s what he is, I still deny it when he tells Henley about us. That we saw each other for more than six months. He stops just short of telling her the whole truth. That he dumped me.
I like you—I really, really like you. Fuck, Tess, I might even let myself love you if I thought there’d ever be a chance of you letting your guard down and loving me back.
That was three years ago.
Right around the time Declan started seeing Jessica.
I don’t think too much about the timetable of it all. If I do, I have to admit that I used Went to make myself feel better about the fact that the guy I was in love with was with someone who tormented me every chance she got.
So, yeah.
Went dumped me after a few months and a year later, Declan put a ring on it and Jessica’s been flashing it in my face ever since, while I pretend that marrying her isn’t the worst form of betrayal. That I don’t give a shit when in reality, every time I see them together, I have to talk myself out of walking into traffic.
Okay, that’s a little over dramatic but you get what I’m saying.
That shit sucks balls.
I’m sitting on a hard plastic chair in the waiting area of Went’s shop while he goes over aftercare procedures with Henley for her new tat. I can see it from where I’m sitting, inked into her back, between her shoulder blades, beneath a thin layer of Aquaphor. It’s practically identical to the one Went slapped on Con’s chest a few years back, save for the fact that it’s smaller, there are daisies woven into the Claddagh’s crown and she had some weird number added to the inverted heart.
Con’s got a thing for numbers.
When Henley pulls out her wallet, Went laughs. “Put that thing away,” he says, shaking his head at her.
“But—” She shakes her head back at him before shooting me a puzzled look over her shoulder. When all I do is shrug at her, she turns back to him and sighs. “I have money,” she tells him.
“What a coincidence.” He folds his thick, tattooed arms over his chest and gives her a bland smile. “So do I.”
They stare at each other for a few seconds. Long enough for me to wonder if Went has finally met his match when it comes to thick-headed stubbornness. Finally, Henley, sighs and puts her wallet away.
“Thank you,” she says, her tone so formal and polite it’s like nails on a chalkboard. “It’s lovely.”
“I’m glad you like it,” he tells her, his tone just as formal. “If you have any aftercare questions, please don’t hesitate to call.”
Henley dips her chin and I swear to Christ she’s about to curtsey. If I ever needed proof that rich people can sniff each other out, this is it.
“Well, if the two of you are through measuring bank accounts, I’d like to leave,” I say, standing. “Because unlike the two of you, I actually have to work for a living.”
Went lifts his dark eyes to meet mine. “When are you coming in to let me finish your sleeve?” He asks, which is his way of shutting me up. I haven’t been in for work since he dumped me.
“As soon as I get the money together to pay you for it,” I say, giving him a sweet smile. Before he can give me the same, I’m as rich as God routine that he gave Henley, I latch a hand around her arm and drag her out the door.
“He seems nice.”
I look away from the passenger-side window and give Henley a non-committal shrug. “Went?” I say, even though I know damn well that’s who she’s talking about. “He’s okay.”
He’s more than okay.
If I weren’t so obviously in need of psychiatric help, I’d still be with him.