The next day, I take a break in the afternoon to pop in at the tattoo parlor to see Chloe. I find her sitting on a tall stool behind the sales counter sketching an intricately detailed picture of a rose on a sheet of drawing paper. Her long, dark hair is braided into pigtails, and she’s wearing a loose-fitting bohemian-style dress. She reminds me of an exotic gypsy princess.

“That’s really pretty,” I tell her, watching as she eyes her sketch critically.

She scowls. “I can’t get the perspective right. I have a customer who wants a rose on her breast.” She eyes me critically. “If it’s going on her boob, it’s got to be absolutely perfect, right?”

She tears the page out of her sketchbook and wads it up, then tosses it in the trashcan. Then her expression brightens as she lays her pencil down and gives me her full attention. “Good afternoon, cupcake.” She smiles brightly. “What’s new with you?”

“Not much. I just wanted to stop in and say hi.”

She gives me a knowing grin. “I saw your hottie walk by a few minutes ago with his dog.”

Reflexively, I glance out the front windows, but of course he’s not there. “He’s not my hottie.”

Chloe looks at me, a skeptical expression on her pretty face. Her big eyes are so dark and expressive, and so diabolically cynical. “So, anything going on there?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean with the hot neighbor. Is anything going on?”

“No. We’re just friends.”

Chloe shrugs. “I’m just wondering if you have dibs on him.”

I laugh, hoping to mask the swift surge of panic I feel. “Dibs? Of course I don’t have dibs on him.”

“So, you don’t mind if I ask him out then?”

Yes, I mind! “No. Not at all.”

“You are such a liar, Molly!” Chloe picks up her pencil and starts sketching the outline of a rose on the pristine white sheet of paper. “So, when are you going to let me ink you?” she says.

I frown. “I’m not really the tattoo type.”

“Oh, come on! Just a tiny one. How about a tramp stamp, just above your ass? No one will ever see it – well, except for your hottie. No, scratch that – he wouldn’t be able to see it anyway.”

“Chloe!” I say, shocked. “That’s an awful thing to say.”

“Oh, come on, it was funny. So, why not get a tattoo?”

“Because – they hurt.”

She laughs. “So? The pain is only temporary, but the artwork lasts for a lifetime.”

I shake my head, smiling apologetically. “I don’t think so.”

“How about a piercing then? Perhaps a belly button ring, since nipple rings are clearly out.”

“Chloe!” I cry, nearly choking on my laughter. Chloe’s irreverent humor is exactly what I need sometimes to keep from taking myself too seriously.

She rips the sheet of paper containing her latest attempt off her sketchpad, balls it up, and throws it at me.

* * *

When I return to my shop, I’m greeted by a trio of tourists peeking through the front windows. I unlock the door and invite them in. While they’re browsing, especially interested in my collection of Chicago postcards based on photographs I took, the bell over the door rings. I glance up, and my heart skips a beat when I see Jamie and Gus coming inside.

“Go to Molly,” Jamie says, and Gus leads him right to me.

My gaze eats Jamie up as I reach down to pet Gus. “Hey, guys!”

“Hi, yourself,” Jamie says. He cocks his head, as if listening to the chatter of the three tourists. “You have company?”

“Just a few customers browsing.”

He nods. “I came to talk to you about doing a commission.”

“You want to commission a painting?”

“Yes.”

I feel a warm rush of pleasure knowing that he’s not holding a grudge because I said no to dinner. “What do you want me to paint?”

“The beach view outside my brother’s estate in Kenilworth. I’d like to commission you to paint it for their wedding gift. The lake view from the back of the house is spectacular, and I know they’d be thrilled to have a painting of it.”

I’m totally bowled over by his request. “I’d love to do it,” I tell him, giddy with relief and excitement. Painting a commission for Jamie means I’ll get to spend time with him. A lot of time. “I’ll need to see the view, of course,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant. “I’ll need to take some photographs for reference. Can I visit the property?”

“Of course. I’ll take you out there myself, and you can look around all you want.”

My pulse starts racing at the thought of having a legitimate excuse to spend time with Jamie... just the two of us on a road trip, going out of town. Well, not far, but it’s at least a forty minute drive from Wicker Park. “When are they getting married?”

“In a couple weeks. But you don’t have to have the painting done by then. I realize this is rather short notice, and I know you’re booked up with other commissions. I’ve been wracking my brain for an idea for a wedding gift, and this occurred to me last night. I know they’d love it.”

“Jamie, I’m flattered. Yes, I’d love to go see the property.”

“Great. I’ll take care of the arrangements. My brother Jake has offered to drive us.”

“My goodness, how many brothers do you have?”

“Three. And three sisters. I wouldn’t be standing here today – I probably wouldn’t still be alive – if it weren’t for them.”

My heart contracts painfully at his admission. The explosion that cost him his eyesight must have been a nightmare. Maybe someday he’ll feel comfortable telling me about it.