Emmie was going through the motions at the shop. Luckily it was a busy day. Like insanely busy. She was already considering another cookbook order and another big order of contemporary romances. Books were a very popular gift this year, but so were the notebook-and-pen sets Tayla had ordered and the selection of ironic book T-shirts Emmie had finally gotten in. She was wearing one of them this morning. Boys in Books Are Better.

It had seemed appropriate.

Tayla had been at her side all day, asking a few questions but mostly leaving her alone, which was highly appreciated. Daisy had walked in around two thirty to bring her a sandwich, glanced at her shirt, then winced before she walked out.

Ginger walked in around three, glanced over at Ox’s empty chair, then she rolled her eyes and picked up the thriller Mr. Read Not Buy had left on the coffee table. She walked to the counter and set the book down.

“Hey,” Emmie said.

“Hey.” Ginger nodded at Ox’s corner. “For what it’s worth, I honestly hoped he was going to get his shit together, because everyone says you’re a nice person.”

Emmie blinked. “Thanks. Did you want to buy this one? I think that guy bent the pages and stuff. I can get you a new one.”

“I heard this book is super generic and predictable even though the author’s really famous.”

“Honestly? Yeah. But like you said, the author is really popular, so I’ve been selling a lot of them. I have other copies.”

“Nah. This is for my stepdad, who’s the most generic and predictable person I know. So a used copy is fine.”

Emmie nodded. “Fair enough. Would you like that gift wrapped? We can make it generic and predictable.”

Ginger gave her a smirk. “Perfect.”

Emmie went to the counter where they’d set up the wrapping station for the season. She glanced over her shoulder when the bell rang on the door. Adrian Saroyan walked into the shop carrying the umbrella she and Ox had both completely forgotten about. He caught her eye and waved.

“Hey, Emmie.”

“Hey.” Of course Adrian was here because the day could just not get any more wonderful. Perfect.

Emmie finished wrapping Ginger’s book in plain red paper with a plain green bow placed exactly in the center of the book. She headed back to the counter to ring her up. She was scanning the credit card when she heard Adrian speak.

“Excuse me, but are you the owner of Bombshell Tattoos?”

Ginger glanced at Adrian. “Yeah.”

“Would you be interested—”

“No.”

Adrian nodded. “Okay then.” He tapped on the counter. “I don’t suppose you’d—”

“You wish, honey.” Ginger signed the receipt Emmie handed her and reached for the book. “Merry Christmas and bah humbug and to all a good night.”

“See you later, Ginger.”

“Tell Ox I said hello and to call that fucking client back. I don’t want to keep making excuses for his ass.”

“Will do.” Emmie tried to wipe even the hint of an expression off her face when she turned to Adrian. “That was Ginger.”

“I figured. I hung your umbrella over on the stand.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.” They’d gotten a little more rain since the storm when she and Ox… Better not to think about that. “So how’ve you been?”

“Good. I switched to historical fiction instead of more Jane Austen, but I’ve been reading more. My mom is very proud. And since I’m watching less news, my stress levels have probably gone down.”

Emmie smiled. “I’m glad. I have a great biography of John Adams if you’re looking for a new read.”

“That sounds good, but how about I send my mom in for it since she’s always asking me what I want for Christmas?”

“I’ll set one aside.”

Adrian turned away and turned back. “Are you okay?”

No, I’m not okay, but you’re the last person I want to talk to about it.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Just busy. Work.”

Thank God for work.

“Okay. If you ever want to talk, you have my number.”

“Thanks, Adrian. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”

It was four o’clock and the shop was busier than ever. Someone down at Pacific Kitchen Supply had mentioned the ten percent-off-coupon for red enamelware they could grab if they bought a book at INK, so it seemed like most of Emmie’s cookbook section was slowly being emptied out. Luckily, lots of avid cooks had decided that their friends and coworkers needed books for presents, so the shop was packed.

Both Tayla and Emmie were working the register, Tayla using her phone for mobile checkout around the shop. Daisy was at the wrapping station, and she’d brought her cook Eddie to work the complimentary holiday coffee and hot chocolate station. Of course, Eddie didn’t work without his mini-television playing telenovelas. Emmie wasn’t sure what he was watching, but it lent a dramatic and oddly appropriate backdrop to the overall cacophony of noise in the shop. Emmie was thinking about getting her own mini-television when Ox walked through the Main Street door.

She froze for a moment, then she put her brain on autopilot and got back to work. She saw Tayla walk over to Ox and say something, but Emmie wasn’t thinking about Ox. She wasn’t thinking about her trampled heart or the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach when he walked in the front door instead of his own shop door.

He wasn’t here to work. He was here to talk to her.

And Emmie had a feeling she knew what it would be about.

She started mentally preparing a list of people who might be interested in the odd arrangement she and Ox had worked out.

Sure, you can do tattoos here, but only during these hours and oh, can you keep the language to a minimum while the bookshop is open?

I’d really prefer you leave the superviolent or dark flash off the walls please.

No, I pick the music and it’s not classic rock. If I hear the Eagles played one more time—

“Emmie.”

Fuck fuck fuck. She’d been checking out customers on autopilot and hadn’t noticed he’d gotten in line.

“I’m really busy right now,” she said. “So unless you want to buy something, we’ll have to talk later.” How about never?

Ox grabbed a pen-and-notebook set from the stand by the counter, ripped the outer wrapping off, and handed her the piece with the bar code on it. Emmie started to scan it while he opened the book and wrote.

“That’ll be sixteen dollars and twenty-six cents,” she said. “How would you like to pay today?”

He was still writing. “Which takes longer?”

“I don’t… What are you doing?”

He’d flipped the notebook around and propped it in front of her register. It read:

I’m sorry.

I fucked up.

I love you.

Put this in your romance novel.

He pulled off his T-shirt, ignoring the gasps of the people around him, and tossed it over Emmie’s head and onto the floor. Directly over his heart, he had a piece of white gauze secured with four strips of tape.

There were Spanish voices in the background and a dramatic orchestral swell. Eddie wasn’t watching the telenovela anymore. No one was.

Ricardo! ¿Puedes ser tú?

Camila, ¿cómo pudiste hacerme esto?

The telenovela music dropped to a minor key, and Emmie’s heart dropped to her feet. “What did you do?”

Ox walked around the counter. “Take off the bandage.”

“Tell me you didn’t put my name on your chest.”

“I am committed to this. I am not walking out on you or the shop. I want you to know. I want the whole world to know.”

Emmie’s eyes went wide and a weeping violin played in the background.

¡Pensé que estabas muerto!

Ni siquiera la muerte podría alejarme de ti.

“You did not,” she said. “You said yourself it’s the kiss of death.”

“Take off the bandage and find out.”

“Ox, you better not have.” Emmie stepped forward and started to peel off the bandage. Not a single person in the shop was talking. The only sound was Eddie’s telenovela.

Emmie pulled back the gauze, but her name was nowhere in sight. Instead, on the grey-and-black expanse of Ox’s chest, she saw a single butterfly resting on the anchor over his heart. The lines were delicate and strong, and the wings were inked in the vivid burgundy red Spider had used on her back.

“It’s my butterfly.”

“Spider helped me out.”

Emmie looked up and couldn’t fight the tears at the corner of her eyes. “You don’t do color.”

“Just once,” he said quietly. “Just this.”

She spread her hand over the anchor, carefully avoiding the newly tattooed skin. “It’s beautiful.”

Ox pressed his hand over hers as he bent down. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know I messed up, and I’m sorry. I didn’t know what I wanted for a long time, but helping you here showed me. I know what I want now. I want to be your partner. Everything else comes second. Can you give me another chance?”

Emmie nodded. “I can do that. I love you.”

The smile that spread over his face was brilliant. “I love you too.” He kissed her, and every person in the shop applauded. Emmie was pretty sure she heard Eddie crying, but that may have been about the telenovela.

Ox whispered, “I walked out. I shouldn’t have done that, and it won’t happen again. I’m sure I’ll fuck up in other ways, but I won’t do that again, okay?”

Emmie nodded and pressed her face to his chest. “Everyone is looking at us, aren’t they?”

“Fuck no, they all made a run for the romance section, Buttons. Best marketing ploy ever.”

Emmie burst into laughter and felt Ox’s arms come around her. She decided that for once, being the center of attention wasn’t too bad.

And she was definitely putting this in her romance novel.

At the end of the night, it was the single busiest day they’d had at INK. Once Emmie wiped her eyes and took a moment to kiss Ox in private, they both got back to work. After all, it was the holiday season. No one had time to drag their feet.

Ox booked two walk-ins on the spot and sold six hours’ worth of gift certificates. One of the walk-ins had the audacity to ask for Ox to keep his shirt off, but he gave her a half smile, pulled on his shirt, and told the girl he wouldn’t want his girlfriend to beat her up.

Emmie changed her T-shirt after deciding that nonfictional boys were having a good night and I Tried to Form a Gang but It Turned into a Book Club was a better choice for the evening. She also had several sign-ups for the romance book club, which probably wasn’t a coincidence.

Spider dropped in to see Daisy and bring her a hamburger a little after seven. He sidled up to Emmie, who was wrapping books while Daisy took a turn on the register.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” She bumped his shoulder. “I like it.”

“Yeah? Good. I’d hate to have to hold him down and cover that shit, because he’s a big fucker.”

“Was it your idea or his?”

“His. But he wanted the same style as yours and he doesn’t know shit about color, so he was smart enough to come to me. Unlike somebody who didn’t trust me enough for her first tattoo.”

“I’m never going to hear the end of that, am I?”

“No.” He turned and leaned against the counter. “I like him for you. I wasn’t sure at first, but he figured it out.”

She turned and kissed his cheek. “Thanks, Spider.”

Emmie stared at him long enough that Spider frowned. “What?”

“Ox was having a hard time letting go of stuff with his sister and the ranch. And I was feeling jealous of that, but at the same time kind of not getting it. But I just realized that’s bullshit, because if you needed anything from me, I’d give it to you. You never ask me for anything, but if you did, I’d give it without any conditions. And if I thought you needed something and you didn’t ask for it, I might try to force it on you.”

Spider smiled a little. “Same.”

“You’re the only person who never left, Spider.”

“And I never will.” His smile turned sad. “You know Betsy didn’t want to.”

“I know. Some things we don’t choose.”

“And some things we do.” He leaned over and kissed her temple. “Love you, Mimi.”

“Love you too.”