Page 32 of The Trouble with Love and Ink
God. What is wrong with you? I internally shouted at myself, then made myself busy cleaning up the mirror. Beck increased the distance, going to my desk to get his backpack.
“So, you are encouraging me to lie to your sister?” I finally asked.
He slipped his laptop into his backpack, but not before tilting his head in contemplation. “No. You already did that yourself. I’m simply telling you to keep it up.”
I scoffed.
“Look.” He shouldered his bag. “You enjoy calligraphy. Enough to fake your identity at the chance to keep at it.”
I gave him a look.
“I guess I’m just saying that this seems like your chance. Why don’t you see what you can get away with?”
He grabbed the cardboard slats and a roll of packing tape from his bag, getting to work on wrapping up the mirror.
I thought about it. I had the live lettering left for Victoria’s wedding as well as the signage: menu on a chalkboard, directions to the reception, and things like that. It would be difficult to finish them because work was the crying baby that always wanted to be held, but if I managed my time and skipped out on some sleep, I could get it done. It was possible.
The idea of the live lettering made my stomach somersault, but if I quit now, with the shower being in two weeks, Victoria might be unable to find a replacement in time. At this point, staying on as her calligrapher seemed like the right thing to do. Even if it meant I had to keep lying.
But then there was Beck. I didn’t know if I could trust him to keep my identity a secret.
“So, you’re not going to tell your sister about me?” I asked after he finished rolling the tape vertically.
“No.”
I eyed him, suspicion swelling at the glint in his eyes. “That seems awfully generous of you, Beckett.”
He winced at that. “Please. Only my father and my ex call me Beckett. And no. Not generous.” He took his time lifting the mirror, a smile widening on his face. “You’ll just owe me one.”
Chapter 11
After Beck’s dare to keep up the façade, I texted my sister and mom, letting them know my decision to stay on as Victoria’s calligrapher.
Hailey turned my phone into a tiny fiesta. Celebratory emojis popped up like confetti on the screen.
Mom: In case you get nervous about where you are going, remember where you’ve been.
I cocked my head at my mom’s proverb-like message, but then the pictures started rolling in. First, it was of a book held open to reveal a quote written in bold—something I’d lettered a few years ago. Then came the picture of the pumpkin with our last name across the folds. And on and on the pictures came of all the work I’d done in the past: a mug for my choir director, a globe with a quote about wandering, and a chalkboard sign for my mom’s art classes.
By the time I reached the last picture, a set of ornaments with jolly phrases, my eyes stung. I could do this. I knew because I’d been doing it for years.
Mom’s texts powered me through the next week and a half when I worked on a drink menu board for the wedding. Progress was achingly slow, but I worked on it whenever I had a little extra time after work, sometimes sacrificing sleep to finish bigger chunks. One morning, I woke before my alarm—something that never happened—and seized the opportunity to finish it.
As I sat back and examined the board with its swooping subsections and severely straight drink options, I allowed myself a moment to appreciate my work. It had come out better than I expected.
Then, I looked at the time and jumped up. I had about seven minutes to squeeze my ass into my swimsuit and fire up the Keurig.
Beck inched his way into the water as I approached the lane. Feeling on top of the world for finishing a project and still making it to the pool mostly on time, I dove right in.
When I came up, adjusting my goggles, he stared at me. “God!”
“What?” I asked. It was an effort to force my mouth open, muscles steeled with the shock of the cold water.
“How do you do that?”
“Do what?” I barely managed to keep the shivering under control.
“Just dive in. I have to let each inch adjust to the temperature. And even then, it’s a struggle.”
