Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63741 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63741 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
It’s a beautiful day, blue skies and fluffy white clouds. This being June in Las Vegas, it’s already too hot to hold the ceremony outdoors, so we’re inside an auditorium on campus. My mom and sisters are in the audience, cheering me on.
At home, tucked away in my nightstand, is the graduation card that Griffin, Frank, and Zeb got me. They each wrote a little note congratulating me and telling me I deserve this. I got so emotional reading what they said that I’m glad I didn’t open the card while I was with them. I did send them a group text afterward thanking them, though.
My mom, I know, is going to insist on taking us out to lunch after the ceremony, so I’ve got a handful of options available that won’t be too expensive. The announcer has just started calling the names; in a few more minutes, I’ll be holding my unofficial diploma and moving my tassel.
I wish the men were here. In a way, I’m glad they’re not, because I wouldn’t want to try to explain them to Mom. But I also wish they were, to share this moment with me.
I’ve been thinking about them nonstop since my lunch with Zeb. Not only what he shared, but what he asked for. Give us another chance.
Not him—them. All three of them.
Is it really possible this could work with all of us, like what Lexy and Ava have? That the three of them could get along that well?
Memories of my encounter with Frank and Zeb sear my body, making me squirm on my folding chair. The two of them certainly had no problem cooperating. And they gave me the most amazing, mind-blowing experience of my life.
My section stands and approaches the stage, and a few minutes later they announce my name. I’m both vividly present as I receive my handshake and diploma, and only partially there. A corner of my mind is far away, in a tattoo shop.
It’s when I’m leaving the auditorium with my family that it happens. Fifty feet away, at the edge of the building, stand three huge men. I freeze, staring at them.
They came. They’re here. Trying to be circumspect because of my family, but they came to support me.
I get teary. Why does everything make me cry these days?
“Who is that?” my mom asks.
“My coworkers,” I whisper, and Hazel whips her head around to stare at me.
“Well, why are they way over there? Introduce us.” Mom’s off without another word, and all I can do is try to catch up.
If I race ahead of her, I’ll be too obvious, so I have to settle for walking at her side. Hazel, not about to miss this, is right beside me, and my youngest sister Coral, not wanting to be left behind, is next to her. So we’re four abreast as we reach the men, like the heroes of some action film.
They’re in slacks and dress shirts. I’ve never seen them in anything but jeans and t-shirts, and to say they look nice is an understatement. Not that they ever don’t look good, but they clean up extremely well.
My mouth goes dry. I try to sound as normal as possible, but I’m not sure I succeed. “Mom, these are the artists who work at the tattoo shop I manage. Griffin, Zeb, and Frank. Guys, this is my family.”
Griffin’s charm is on full display, and I’ve never been more thankful for it. “We didn’t want to intrude on a family gathering,” he says with his most winning smile, “but we know Ember has worked hard to make today happen, and we’re very happy for her.”
“Oh, nonsense, you’re not intruding,” says my mother, who’s never met a stranger. “Why don’t you join us for lunch?”
“That’s very kind of you,” Griffin says. “Are you sure?”
I make big eyes at him. He ignores me.
“Of course I’m sure.” Mom turns to me. “Where are we going?”
I’m trapped. “Um …”
“What about La Cocina?” Frank says. Which is a great Mexican restaurant, and very pricey. Before I can make big eyes at him, I catch the look he’s giving me, which says very clearly the men are going to be buying lunch.
“Sure,” I say, resigning myself to the impending disaster. “That sounds good.”
Somehow, the disaster never materializes.
Griffin’s not the only one on his best behavior; Zeb and Frank do their part, too. All of them share their funniest and most outrageous client stories, and ask endless polite questions about my mom and my sisters.
And they don’t flirt with me. At all. There’s not a single innuendo or wink or meaningful look.
My entire family is dazzled. Hazel asks if she can get a tattoo before they go home; my baby sister blushes and stares at each of the men in turn; and my mother has the time of her life, laughing and telling her own stories—some of which, naturally, are about me and my youthful escapades.