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“I didn’t say rattoos. I said rattoos.” She hiccupped. “Oh my God! I did say rattoos. Why can’t I say rattoos?”

I scooped the key off the floor and squinted as I tried for the third time to get it in the lock. “Got it!” I pushed the door open to let Molly walk inside ahead of me.

In the doorway, she turned to face me. Her mouth overexaggerated every syllable as she slowly formed each sound. “Tat-tooo. Do you have any tat-toos?”

“Ah. Tattoos. Yes, I do. But I don’t have any rattoos yet.”

Molly kicked off her shoes just inside the front door and went straight to the kitchen. “What do you have in here today? I’m starving.”

“I think there’s some leftover penne alla vodka.”

She ripped open the refrigerator door and grabbed the Tupperware. “Let’s eat it cold.”

I chuckled and plucked the container from her hands. “How about I heat it up for us. It’ll only take five minutes.”

Molly pouted. “That’s four-and-a-half minutes too long.”

I dumped the pasta into a small pot and turned on the stove. We’d both had way too much to drink, but Molly was leaning on the kitchen counter, and it looked like she might need it to keep herself upright.

“Why don’t you go get comfy in the living room?”

“I want to watch you cook. It’s sexy having a man make me food.”

“Oh yeah?”

I turned to look at her just as her elbow on the counter slipped and she almost toppled over. “Whoa there. Be careful.” I caught her waist and lifted her up onto the counter. “How about you sit up here then?”

Molly grabbed the glass jar of pink M&Ms next to her. She pulled out a handful and popped some into her mouth before holding out her hand to me. “Want some?”

“No, thanks. I can handle the five-minute wait.”

She stuck her tongue out, which made me smile.

“So, where is it?” she asked with her mouth full.

“Where’s what?”

“Your tat-too.”

“Ah. It’s a secret. If you want to know, I’ll need to know something personal about you. A secret for a secret.”

“Okay!” Her face lit up. “You go first.”

“Alright. I actually have two tattoos: one on my left shoulder blade and the other on my side, on my rib cage.”

“Oh wow. What are they?”

I wagged a finger at her. “Not so fast, Miss Nosypants. That’s a second secret. You have to share a secret first.”

Molly tapped her pointer finger to her lip. “Oh! I know! I have a tattoo, too!”

My brows jumped. “You do?”

She nodded. “I do.”

“Where is it?”

She grinned. “Not so fast, Mr. Nosypants. That’s a second secret. You’ll have to share a second secret first.”

I smiled. “Nice. Okay. The tattoo on my back is a compass. Don’t ask why a compass, because I have no goddamn clue. I was eighteen when I got it and just liked it. The one on my ribs is a cross with the words Dimittas tua consilia—it’s Latin. It translates to Let go of your plans. I got it the night my sister became a nun. They had a nice ceremony the afternoon she took her vows. Before that, I couldn’t understand how someone could wake up one morning and just decide to become a nun. But the priest who officiated the ceremony talked a lot about how one of the biggest obstacles we have in life is overcoming our perceived plans for our future. He said if we can let go of our plans, we can do anything.” I shook my head. “It helped me figure out that not everyone’s plans in life need to be the same. I was so proud of Catherine that day. I wanted to honor her in some way.”

“That’s beautiful.”

“Thanks. But let’s get to the good shit.” I lifted my chin. “Where’s your tattoo?”

She laughed. “It’s on my hip. It’s three small blackbirds. I got it after my grandmother died. We were really close, and she was a huge Beatles fan. ‘Blackbird’ was her favorite song. They played it at her wake. I knew all the words, but I never understood them until that afternoon. I got it a few days later.”

“That’s really cool.”

The sauce in the pot started to bubble, so I lowered the flame and stirred.

“Can I see yours?” Molly asked.

I set the spoon down on top of a paper towel next to the stove, making a mental note for the tenth time that I needed to pick her up one of those spoon-rest things, and turned around. “You can… But you know what that means? If I show you mine, you’ll have to show me yours.”

Molly bit her bottom lip and debated that for a moment. The thought of her unzipping her pants and showing me her hip bone had my pulse speeding up. It was probably best we didn’t start undressing.

Though, just as I accepted that wisdom, Molly said, “You go first.”