Old Ink (Get Ink'd #3) - Ali Lyda Page 0,64
He was taking a break with his client and came over to the desk. “Reagan texted me to say he’s taking a personal day today and tomorrow.”
“Okay—” I started, unsure of how I felt about the fact that Reagan had texted Dane and not me.
Actually, no, that wasn’t true—I knew how I felt, and it sure as fuck wasn’t good.
“I just saw you over here all droopy, and I figured that’s what you were worrying over. The big man needed to take a break, like, five years ago. So it’s a good thing he’s willing to start carving out some time for himself. You should call him later, okay?”
I nodded, but anxiety about Reagan’s silence was clawing its way through my chest. Because why in the fuck had Reagan texted Dane and not me? His boyfriend? What did that mean? Dane gave me a knowing look then went back to his client, joking and getting ready to launch into another three-hour push on the mammoth back piece.
After a few more minutes of stewing, I stepped out and called Reagan, leaving a message when it rolled over to voicemail. “Reagan, I’d hoped to tell you in person, but I talked to Christian and Dane about changing majors. You were right about them being cool with it, so, uh, feel free to gloat later. But I got an email from my advisor and it’s going to mean a lot more school to graduate. We should talk about that. Whenever, you know, I see you again.”
It was anticlimactic as hell, and I probably sounded needy as hell, and I was peeved that I missed seeing his reaction—but it also felt pleasantly vindictive leaving a bomb of an announcement on voicemail. It was the first thing to help curb my anxiety. Text Dane and ignore me? Well, eat that, buster. And you’d better have a good excuse for this.
Except then I couldn’t help but start spiraling about how much of a kid that probably made me look like to Reagan, acting so spitefully because he hadn’t texted me?
In a way I was lucky. After lunch, phone calls started pouring in. We had scheduled customers booked back to back as well as walk-ins, so I never got a chance to sit and mope until long after the sun had gone down and the last clients were close to finished. I was counting the drawer and making notes for the next day when the front door pinged.
Without looking up from what I was doing, I said, “Thanks for coming to Get Ink’d, but we’re closing up for the night. You’re welcome to call tomorrow or step in earlier if you’d like to discuss a tattoo.”
A deep laugh hooked my attention. My heart stuttered, and I glanced up to see Reagan, wry amusement plastered on his face. “I guess I’ll have to wait until tomorrow, then.”
I couldn’t help it. Just the sight of him had me running around the desk to fly into his arms, hitting him with a monster hug. “Where have you been all day? Why didn’t you text me, or call me back? I’ve been crawling out of my skin today trying not to be a crazy boyfriend texting you every five minutes, asshole!”
He held me, the vibrations of his laughter and warmth from his body a quick balm to all my worries. “I’m sorry. And congratulations on your news—we definitely should talk about that later. But for now, does it help to know I’ve been working on a surprise for you?”
I pulled back just a bit to look into his eyes, which were twinkling in amusement. I felt a little guilty, but also a little excited, my earlier anger ebbing away completely. “It helps, yes. What is it?”
“I want to show you. Do you...do you want to come home with me? The surprise is there.”
Oh. My cheeks burned and my belly squirmed with heat and want. I didn’t stop staring into his eyes as I yelled, “Dane, I’m leaving with Reagan. Don’t wait up for me.”
“Oh, Jesus Christ, you two are so gross,” Dane mumbled. “Get out of here before I barf from all the sweetness.”
We smiled and I let Reagan take my hand, leading me out into the night.
17
Reagan
I took a deep breath as I parked in the lot for my condo’s building. Channing was looking at it with wide eyes. It was one of the nicer condominiums in the area, a splurge I’d made years ago when Get Ink’d had been