I didn’t know what I was thinking.

I was getting married.

Last weekend was, I couldn’t say it was a mistake because nothing with Livy was ever a mistake, but it was a complete and utter cluster fuck.

After Livy disappeared into her hotel room that night, she kept her distance from me. She was friendly, in a way that made me feel like she felt sorry for me, but she was guarded.

She barely spoke to me all week at work. She nodded her head at me when I walked in the room, and she was fake friendly to me in front of my clients.

I needed a moment alone with her. I needed to talk to her. To see what was going on in that head of hers, but Emily made sure that I had absolutely no free time on my hands. We were having a pre-wedding celebration at the shop, whatever the fuck that meant, and Emily was in true bridezilla mode.

I had never seen anyone get so upset over appetizers or decorations, and with every word that came out of her mouth, I felt myself moving further away from her inch by inch.

By the time the party finally arrived, I was stressed out, confused as fuck, and in desperate need for a drink.

But even the whiskey couldn’t wash down the taste of Livy.

Guilt flooded me whenever I was with Emily. I wanted to tell her the truth. I did, but selfishly, I was scared. What if I chose Livy, but she didn’t choose me? I knew she was furious with me. It would take an idiot not to see that, but deep down, I knew that fire came from somewhere deeper than hate. What if she ran again? The last time she left, I was a complete fucking wreck.

I partied, I slept with more women than I should have, and every part of me ached with memories of her.

I couldn’t be that guy again.

I refused to.

So instead of telling Emily that although I loved her, I was still insanely in love with Livy, I stood in my shop and sipped whiskey as if it would somehow be the answer to my problems.

Emily was in the corner talking to a group of her girlfriends, and as I watched them, I took in how vastly different we were. They were all a flourish of pastels and manners. My friends and I? We were on the complete other side of the spectrum. We looked as dark as the ink that marked our skin. Instead of glasses of champagne, I looked around at my friends and their hard liquor and beers.

Instead of the polite smiles that hid judgment of others, I watched Livy as she belly laughed at something Brandon was telling her. She didn’t care who was watching. She didn’t care how she looked, and there was something about it that made her the most beautiful thing in the room.

I made my way over to them subconsciously, but Livy quit laughing as soon as she spotted me.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“Inside joke,” Livy replied instantly, and I watched my best friend try to conceal his smile.

A tiny hand made its way across my chest and a moment later, Emily stood at my side. She lifted her chin to me, and I made the mistake of glancing at Livy right before my lips pressed against my fiancée’s. She looked completely gutted, and it made me feel like the biggest piece of shit in the world to know that I was hurting her and Emily.

“So Emily…” Livy’s face no longer had a trace of hurt on it. She was smiling as she looked at Emily. “Do you have any tattoos?”

“Oh, no.” Emily chuckled.

“Why not?” Livy chuckled with her, a fake laugh that I fucking hated. “You’re about to be married to one of the greatest tattoo artists on this side of the Mississippi. Surely, he isn’t trying to charge you, is he?”

Emily smiled up at me, and I could see the pride in her eyes.

“No. He won’t charge me. I’m just not sure that I ever want a tattoo.”

That was news to me. Emily had never really shown an interest in my work, but I thought that eventually she would let me mark her with my art.

“Really?” Livy asked curiously. “I feel honored to have Parker’s art on me.”

She was fucking with my head. I wasn’t sure if it was on purpose or not, but it didn’t matter. She was making me question everything.

“Parker’s tattooed you?” Emily actually seemed interested in the answer. More interested than she had ever been in my work before.

“Yeah.” Livy nodded. “Hold this, Parker.” She placed her cranberry and vodka in my hand before she started pulling up her shirt to show her tattoo.

Emily tensed as the tattoo came into view and so did I. When Emily and I met, I was constantly drawing. Every free second of the day my hands were covered in pencil lead. I would constantly wake up in the middle of the night to draw, to clear my head, and there were too many occasions to count when Emily would wake up to me drawing.

To me drawing the tattoo that was now permanently a part of Livy.

Emily glanced up at me with accusation in her eyes before she looked back at Livy. “I love it.”

“Me too. Could you imagine going through life without having something this beautiful from Parker on your skin?”

“No. You’re right. I couldn’t.” Emily’s hand squeezed around mine. “Parker, I think we should go mingle with the other guests.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” I handed Livy back her drink, and her eyes went from mine and Emily’s clasped hands to look up at me.

“Have fun.” She smiled, but I could see past it. I could see her falling apart in front of me, and I wanted nothing more than to reach out and catch her.

But Emily pulled on my hand in that moment, and Livy looked away.