One year later…

The buzz of the needle pierced my skin for the millionth time that day. My lower back and hip were sensitive, but for the most part I’d been fine. I enjoyed the bite of the tattoo needle. There was something sexy and illicit about the pleasure pain of each new pinprick. I could see why people would get obsessed with getting them. Except, for me, this was my fourth and last session.

I found through my sessions under the needle that individuals came to get tattoos for different reasons. Some to sleeve their arms and legs with splendid things that reminded them of good times, or cherished totems, maybe even hope for the future. Some came to commemorate an important event or were symbols of unity and friendship. Then there were the people like me. The patrons who were getting something appealing to cover something ugly, to wash away the past.

Each new lily and leaf added to the vine of flowers on my back took another piece of Kyle’s mark away and replaced it with beauty. Just like Clayton suggested. Once we’d become engaged, I immediately started the process of covering up the damage Kyle had done to me. Amazingly, it was extremely cathartic. Every inch that was covered took another pound of weight off my chest and released me from my past. Today it would be finished. Kyle erased from my life forever.

Besides marrying my man in a small wedding on the beach in Maui a few months ago, nothing could make me happier.

“How’s it going over here, beautiful?” Clayton walked over to me, shirtless, cellophane wrapped around his own fresh artwork.

“Let me see?” I asked.

He got closer to where I lay on the table so I could take in the majestic art. He was adamant about getting the same lily flowers over his scar that he’d gotten from Kyle. Lilies for our daughter, the same flowers I had running up the entire right side of my back. He said it united us in letting go of our past. United in all things.

Two lilies, pale lavender with black trim, and swirls of black lines and leaves wove up the side of his waist and onto his ribcage. The flowers had yellow centers that burst with color, giving the flowers a very realistic appeal to them.

“Pretty cool, yeah?” He checked it out himself in the long mirror across from me.

“Very cool.” I wanted to wax poetic about how much it meant to me, but he knew. I didn’t need to say anything to show my love and appreciation. My husband just knew. Like he always did when it came to me. To us.

“All right, Moe, you’re done.” The tattoo artist rolled his chair back and put down his gun. “I’m going to slap some salve on it and wrap you. Go ahead and take a look. I went over everywhere thoroughly, but if you feel anything needs a touch-up, you let me know and we’ll knock it out free of charge.”

I nodded. “All I want to know is if you covered every single inch of the scar. Entirely.” I was adamant about that. Every speck had to be covered.

“I knew the rules. It’s covered. Clay, man, take a look.” He gestured to my newly tatted skin.

Clayton bent over me and ran his finger down the healed parts of the tattoo, sending a shiver of delight rippling through me. He glanced up at my face, knowing what he’d done, and gave me a wink. Then he focused on the new ink. He got close and inspected it thoroughly, knowing if he said it was covered, I’d believe him.

“Nothing to see here, beautiful, but a sexy-as-fuck tattoo down my woman’s back.” He shot me one of his sinful smiles that spoke of long mornings in bed and long nights of the same.

I shimmied up to a standing position. The artist handed me a mirror, and for the first time ever, I was excited to see my back. Usually the sight of the scar instantly took me back to that horrible day and the pain Kyle caused. Now I had something to look forward to.

I lifted the mirror and checked it out. Running from my hip all the way up in a wide, sweeping trail were bunches of lilies in varying sizes and shapes. Black lines swirled magically around the flowers, flowing in and out. Leaves of a bright green hugged the edges here and there, and the centers were a startling yellow as if, when touched, pollen would stick to my fingertips. Nothing had ever been so life-changing except my baby when the nurse handed her to me after her birth.

“My goodness, Clay.” I reached for his arm to steady myself, gratitude and acceptance rolling over me in waves.

“Monet. Baby, do you see now how gorgeous you are to me?” He asked the question he repeated every day. My answer was always the same. No. Today, and every day after, that would change.

He wrapped an arm around me, his hand coming close to the new design but not touching it. I memorized that moment, seeing his tanned hand against my skin and the colorful flowers sweeping along my back.

“Yes, Clay. I finally do see.” Because I was beautiful. Now I could look at myself with pride. I could wear a strapless dress and show off the beauty I’d given myself. “Thank you. Thank you for making me see.”

He smiled and kissed me. “Love you, Mrs. Hart.”

“I love you, Mr. Hart.”

“So, Clay, man, when’s your next one?” the tattoo artist inquired.

Clayton chuckled and twined his fingers with mine. “Don’t know. Probably when I have another kid and need to add another flower.” He shrugged.

The man laughed, and I clenched Clay’s hand. His eyes flashed to mine.

“Better make your appointment soon, then.” I lifted his hand to my belly.

His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying? That I should plan to make an appointment or I already need an appointment?”

I laughed and shook my head. Men could be so dense sometimes. We women always had to lay it all out for them.

“I’m saying in about seven months, you’re going to be a daddy…well, a daddy again.”

His mouth opened and closed. “I’m going to be a…” He ran his hands through his spiked hair twice and then turned to me. “You’re carrying my baby?” he asked, awe coating every word.

I smiled wide. “I am. That’s why I had to rush this appointment. I just found out and didn’t want to wait to finish the last of the tattoo, so we’d be free.”

“She’s carrying my baby,” he announced to the tattoo artist.

The man just laughed and walked away, giving us our space.

Clayton looked like he was completely mystified.

“You gonna hug me or what?” I laughed.

“Fuck yeah!” He pulled me in his arms. “You’re carrying my baby,” he whispered into my neck. “We’re going to have a baby. Lily’s going to be a big sister.”

“I can’t wait,” I admitted, as happy as I could ever be.

Clayton pulled back and stared deeply into my eyes, and I saw it all. Our future was endless blue skies.

“Monet, before you, I was going through the motions. Work, gym, a couple of friends. Nothing gave me joy. Not like we have now. I had love in my life but not the love of a good woman. You came along and filled my heart with love, my days with laughter, my bed with a beautiful woman.” He gripped me more firmly and brought his face a scant inch from mine so nothing could intrude on this moment.

“For you, my wife…my love is limitless.”