Page 16 of A Love That Saved Us

Then I close my eyes and repeat the lie?—

I don’t love you anymore.

I don’t love you anymore.

I don’t love you anymore…

Until I finally fall asleep.

Chapter Four

JENSEN

The restaurant’s dimly lit—candlelightand low music, the kind of place you take someone when you’re hoping to get laid afterward. It’s romantic as hell, and most of the tables are filled with couples. Definitely the kind of place Alley would love.

I’m here with Matt—and I am most definitelynotgetting laid tonight. But we couldn’t come to Zermatt and not eat here. It’s Michelin-starred, and Matt has a thing for hunting those down everywhere we go.

As we follow the hostess to our table, I nudge him. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask, would you mind reaching out to your tattoo guy? See if I can get a consult when we get back?”

He glances at me. “Really?”

“Yeah. I’ve been thinking about it for weeks.”

“Alright, man. I’ll message him now. How soon you talking?”

We slide into our seats as the hostess pours water into our glasses and tells us our server will be over shortly.

“As soon as possible.”

“Could be a while. He’s usually booked months in advance.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Just whatever you can get.”

“Okay.” He pulls out his phone, grinning. “I can’t believe you’re serious. You always said you’d never get one. What are you wanting? Maybe he could squeeze you in if it’s something simple.”

“I want a full sleeve.”

He looks up from his phone, staring at me like I’ve lost my mind. “No you fucking don’t.”

I nod, chuckling. “Yeah, I do. I want a reminder, a permanent commitment to staying clean. Something that I can see every day. I even had a friend in rehab who’s an artist help me plan it out. He sketched a rough draft. But I know your guy’s really good, so I’m sure he’ll make it even better.”

Matt’s covered in tats—two full sleeves, a full leg, and pieces scattered across his chest, back, and side. He’s been going to this guy for years.

“Shit. You’re serious.” He starts typing. “That might be harder to squeeze in, but I’m pumped about this. I’ll see what I can do.”

Matt’s fingers move fast over his phone. When he sayssee what I can do,what he really means isthrow some money at it until it happens.I could tell him not to bother, but it’d be pointless. He’s going to do it anyway. That’s just who he is.

“I know it’ll probably take a few sessions so just whatever he has. Even if it’s piece by piece.”

Matt sets his phone down. “I bet he can do it all in three or four. You’ll have to show me the sketch when we get back.”

Our server walks up and introduces himself. “What can I get you two to drink?”

“I’ll take a whiskey neat,” Matt says.

“I’ll just stick with water,” I tell him.

Alcohol’s no longer an option for me. My counselors told me to stay away from it for at least a couple years—give my braintime to rewire. I honestly can’t remember the last time I went for a nice dinner and didn’t order a drink.