He was pointing lower, toward her belly.
“Ellie,” I said lightly, “can you come inside for a second? I need help with something.”
“Sure!”
She set down her drink and followed me into the house. The second the sliding door shut behind us, I panicked a little. I needed to see the full tattoo, but Will’s words, “Dad’s there,” echoed through my thoughts.
I couldn’t just ask her to show it to me. I needed a plan.
“What’s up, Marla?” Ellie asked. “You need help with the cake?”
I needed to see the full tattoo.
“Uh…” I scanned the kitchen. I pointed toward the shelf over the refrigerator. “Can you grab that box for me? I… hurt my back a little. I can’t reach it.”
“Ouch! When did you hurt yourself?” She glanced at me over her shoulder as she moved toward the fridge.
“Preparing for the party. It’s not bad, I just don’t want to make it worse.”
She stepped up on her toes, stretching her arms overhead.
Her shirt lifted. It was enough to show me all I needed to see.
“Can you grab that box for me?”
A fine-line black ink portrait of a man with a dimpled smile, almond-shaped eyes, a strong jawline, and an aquiline nose. It was Brad. My husband’s face was tattooed on my best friend’s body like a private shrine.
I couldn’t stop staring at it.
Behind me, from outside, people cheered.
“We’re ready for cake!” someone shouted.
Ellie got the box down and turned around.
Brad’s voice called from outside, warm and easy. “Babe? You okay in there?”
My husband’s face was tattooed on my best friend’s body.
I closed my eyes.
