Chapter 7
The Meeting
Mike
The sound of the front door opened and closing slowly, the chimes ringing through the empty shop, brought Mike’s head up from his sketch book. He was trying, and getting nowhere, to draw up a tattoo of a traditional pin up girl for a client.
He stood so quickly that his sketchbook, the page still white and empty, flew from his lap. He wondered if it was just someone walking in off the street again. That had happened twice in the past two nights. In hindsight, he should have left better directions in the letter. Like, knock and I’ll open the door. It wasn’t the smartest idea to keep it open after hours. It seemed to attract all sorts of vagrants walking in, wanting a tattoo, even though all the lights were off in front.
Yes, probably someone else I’m going to have to tell to leave. Mike stalked quickly down the hall, not wanting someone loitering around in the shop. Kian hated the idea of leaving it open as it was. If someone damaged something or stole anything…
Mike opened his mouth to tell the shadowy figure that they were closed, when he stopped short, a foot shy of the reception desk. Their receptionist, Heather, had left her laptop open, but the screen was black and dead. The appointment book was open as well, flipped neatly to the next day’s client bookings.
Savannah. He blinked. It was really her. She looked different than she had before. She spotted him and sent a nervous glance over her shoulder. Her eyes roamed the room and he could tell she was debating about leaving.
Because he was being awkward as hell standing there gaping at her.
“Savannah,” he finally ground out. “I… you came.”
She finally quit glancing behind her and her dark gaze locked on him. She slowly stepped forward, towards the desk. When the lights from the back hit her, casting a sweet glow over her profile, he realized how much she’d changed. God, she’s beautiful. She’d been pretty before, but now she looked like a woman. She was always curvy, but her hips and breasts were fuller. She’d got rid of the blonde hair and in its place was the deep, rich brown color, her natural color. She had on just a little makeup and her true, natural beauty shone through. She had flawless skin with that olive undertone that meant she bronzed in the sun and never burned like some people did.
She looked so fresh and clean, glowing with the radiance of mother hood and natural beauty, that Mike nearly had to look away. His body was reacting on all sorts of elemental levels and he wasn’t exactly proud of his flesh and blood reaction.
She’s a mother now. Maybe even the mother of my child. Mike tried to steer his thoughts in another direction, to stop the flow of blood to his damn groin. It didn’t work.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I’m here.”
Neither of them moved, both equally as transfixed. Is she feeling the same way? Probably not. Dolt. She’s not some hot blooded male that can’t control himself.
“Do you want something to drink? I can make coffee or tea or there’s water or juice.”
“Do you guys still have the orange juice mix? I always did like that.”
Mike grinned. In that moment it didn’t matter how much time had passed between them or what his body was doing or how much she’d changed and grown up. She was still the same Savannah, so much younger than him but with a zest for life she’d never lose, no matter how many years she’d age.
Her answering smile was pretty, almost hesitant, but finally blooming over her pale pink lips. She was entirely too beautiful and he realized that she’d gained a quiet confidence since he’d last met her. Wisdom. That’s what it is. She has a child now. It’s not just her she has to worry about any longer.
She followed him back to the break room. Of course she already knew where it was. She’d been to the shop so many times before that Mike had lost count. She seemed perfectly at home in the room. Her body visibly relaxed as the tension drained out of her shoulders. She took a seat on the couch and waited for him to mix up some orange juice crystals in one of the plastic jugs stashed in the bottom cupboards.
The break room wasn’t large and it wasn’t fancy, but their receptionist, Heather, always kept it well stocked with all sorts of food in the fridge and freezer and sugary items for clients who needed a pick me up during their tattoos. The orange juice crystals were a favorite among staff and clientele alike, probably because whenever he made it, the juice was so strong he could stand a wooden spoon up in it.
Mike finished, poured two tall glasses and set them both on the coffee table between the two couches in the room. He’d crashed on one of those couches more than once, though he had a perfectly good house to go home to. Sometimes it just felt better being at the shop.
Savannah reached for her glass and gulped down half of it in a few long pulls. After she wiped the orange mustache off her top lip and when she smiled, it reached her eyes. “Oh wow. That’s sweet. Same as I remember.”
“Not much has changed.”
One dark brow arched in question. “No?”
He shook his head. “I’m still working here. Still plugging away tattooing people.”
“And you don’t have anyone?” The question was asked with just the slightest amount of hesitation and forced boldness.
Mike’s heart started to hammer hard. Not that it hadn’t been already, but it picked up the pace big time. His poor ribs took a beating as he forced himself to swallow back a few sips of juice, just to wet a throat that was glued together.
“No.” He could tell Savannah was waiting for him to say something. She locked her hands together in her lap, but to her credit, her eyes remained glued to his face. “Uh- I was dating someone for a while, but it didn’t work out. I didn’t want it to.” He wanted to wince at his own bluntness, but Savannah just nodded, as though he’d just said the sky was blue. He could have waited, or been more subtle, but it just wasn’t his style. He’d been killing himself for over a week. He needed to know the truth. “Do you- uh- is there someone for you?”
Her gaze burned into him. She didn’t blink. Didn’t look away. “No,” she finally whispered. “There isn’t.”
“Has there been?” She didn’t start or try and evade him like he thought she might. Her composure never wavered, proving just how much she’d matured in the year since he’d seen her last.
“No.”
The old Savannah might have lied. She might have beat around the bush or led him on, or worse, not come at all. This new Savannah, the womanly, motherly, wise Savannah gave him the truth in one direct syllable.
And just like that, Mike knew his world would never again be the same.