Page 72 of The Birthday List (Maysen Jar 1)

“You got a tattoo today?”

She nodded and peered over her shoulder. “My first and only. That thing hurt like a mother.”

I grinned. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“No tattoos?”

I shook my head. “Not yet. I just can’t think of anything I’d want to get inked.” I pointed to her shirt, wanting to hold it down so I could get a closer look. “May I?”

“Go ahead.”

My fingers replaced hers at the collar and I gently tugged it lower. I was careful not to touch her skin, knowing it would be tender, but also so my dick wouldn’t get any ideas about where this was going.

On her right shoulder, covered in plastic wrap, was a long string of delicate script—the rest is still unwritten.

“I like it.” I had expected any tattoo she’d get to be something about Jamie, but this seemed more like something just for her. “What does it mean?”

“It’s a song lyric. Something that has always stayed with me.” She adjusted her shirt back over her shoulder as my fingers let it go. “The first few years after Jamie died were hard. I didn’t see any of our old friends much. Mostly I just kept to myself. I worked as a receptionist for a dentist’s office until I bought the restaurant, and if I wasn’t at work, then I spent my time at home or with Finn and Molly.”

I nodded and stayed quiet, not wanting her to stop.

“But after three years or so, I started to get out more. I started running into old friends. They’d always chat with me like old times, but as soon as I’d turn away, I’d hear them whisper widow. That was the first word they used to describe me behind my back. That poor widow, Poppy Maysen.”

She stared, unblinking, at the truck as she spoke, while the anger flashed in her eyes.

“I hate that word. Widow.” Her hands balled into fists on the workbench. “Every time I hear it I want to scream. People say widow like that’s who I am now. Like it’s expected that I stay in this permanent state of grief. Like it’s unacceptable that I’d consider moving on with my life.”

She didn’t have to say their names, but I knew she was referring to Jamie’s parents.

“Anyway.” She relaxed her hands. “That’s when I started to think about doing Jamie’s birthday list. And that’s what my tattoo means.”

“That the rest of your life is still unwritten.”

She nodded and locked her blue gaze with mine. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot these last couple of weeks.”

“Yeah??

?? My chest tightened as I braced for her to throw up that wall. As I waited for her to tell me I wouldn’t be part of her unwritten.

“Yeah.” She looked to her lap. “You scare the hell out of me, Cole,” she whispered.

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“I’m sorry. I just needed some time to think.”

I wanted to touch her, to tip her chin up so she’d look at me, but I kept my hands tight to my sides. “And what did you come up with?”

“I like you,” she told her fingers. “I like you a lot.”

The tension rushed out of my shoulders and I let out a breath. She likes me. This was good. No, this was fucking great. If she was actually willing to acknowledge her feelings for me, my uphill battle might start to level out. “I like you a lot too.”

“But I—”

“Wait.” My finger flew to her lips. “Let me say something before you take away the best feeling I’ve had in weeks.”

She smiled against my skin.

“I’m not trying to take Jamie’s place or erase his memory or make you forget that you loved him. I’m just trying to explore this thing between us.” I stepped closer, resting my hip against her thigh.