Page 43 of The Trouble with Love and Ink
But then Beck caught me looking, and it was suddenly not fine, not at all, that I was smiling at his smile. I wanted to avert my gaze, look at other guests, check my outfit, and pretend to be busy. Something. Anything. But his gaze pinned me. I expected him to roll his eyes or stick out his tongue. Instead, his smile wavered slightly—as if he’d been ensnared by me as well.
“Oh wow! You do calligraphy?” My first guest snapped me out of whatever the hell that little staring contest had been.
“Yes!” I picked up a Capiz shell. “I can do a name, a favorite word, a phrase—if it’s three words or less.”
“Cool! Can you put my name? Lindsay—with an A.”
And that’s how my work began. It didn’t take long for Lindsay to go back to show her friends the Capiz shell, and then I had a steady stream of guests at my table. I didn’t know what I’d been worried about. Victoria may have been paying me through the nose for the service, but she was too busy to quality-check my work, and the guests were just thrilled to get something cute and personalized for free.
After the guests feasted on lunch and dessert, my line started winding around tables. It should have unnerved me: so many people, so many chances to disappoint. Not to mention, I needed to hurry to get the line down but give each shell enough care to meet Atteridge-level expectations.
But once I got in my groove, I let go of all the anxiety and found I was actually enjoying myself. Usually, I saved my talents for close friends and family, but here, the guests made me feel like what I did was a big deal.
Mostly, people wanted their first or last name. One elderly lady wanted the name of a recently deceased pet on her shell. Some people wanted words like hope or faith. Sometimes, they requested tiny mantras: be bold or choose happy.
One man in line introduced himself as the groom’s brother’s boyfriend, Sebastian Gomez. He told me he owned a shoe store on the north side of Houston and wanted to know if I had a business card so we could be in touch for a live lettering event at his store.
I’d done it. I had snagged a new client. The request sent my heart fluttering until I reached for said business card and realized the only ones I had were Hailey’s. Because I couldn’t advertise as anyone else at this event. If I took his job, I’d have to keep lying about my identity. My heart went from fluttering to a clumsy fall, hitting every branch on the way down.
I was seriously weighing the pros and cons of legally changing my first name to my sister’s when a familiar, smug face popped up next in my line. Beck had his hands in his pockets, that lazy smile on his face.
“What will it be? Beckett or Atteridge?”
I expected the names to land with bruising force. Instead, he only cocked his head to the side, letting out a contemplative, “Hmmm . . . How about Senior Analyst?”
I bristled. Another point awarded to Beck. I tried my best not to let it show as I dipped my nib in the gold ink and set to work on his shell.
Beck tsked. “I see you’re still picking up that pen.”
“You know, you talk a lot of shit for someone who waited in a long ass line to get something lettered by me.” I handed over the shell for his inspection.
Senior-Level Asshole glittered under the chandelier lights.
His half-grin cracked into that full-on smile he wore so well, little crinkle lines appearing near his eyes. “I think you misspelled senior analyst.”
“Sorry. No returns. Next!”
Beck didn’t grace me with his presence again until guests began a steady trickle out the door. My table had been empty for about half an hour when he stopped by with a cupcake.
“I thought you might be hungry,” he said.
“Thank you,” I said, a little hesitant as I realized he’d brought me food twice now.
I bit into decadent vanilla, piled high with buttercream frosting, and licked my bottom lip with a small moan.
Beck leaned against my table, watching and waving at family and friends as they passed to leave. “So, you pulled it off, Lane.”
“No one is more surprised than me,” I said before taking another bite of heavenly cupcake.
“I’m not surprised at all,” Beck said. My cheeks warmed at that, and it made me glad he had his back to me.
“So, are we staying until the very end?”
I noticed the vendors packing up and figured it was a sign that I could go ahead and do the same. A glance at my watch told me I needed to get my ass home so I could complete my timesheet and reply to someone from accounting about a question they had the day before. Also, Wesley wanted me to review the parameters we set for Frank one more time before we had our meeting with him the next day.
“Victoria asked the bridal party to stay until everyone else is gone.” I looked at the remaining guests, who were all about our age: late twenties to early thirties. Every one of them dressed to the nines. “Probably wants to make sure everyone is on the same page about the rehearsal dinner. Or something to that effect. Shouldn’t take long.”
Victoria waved Beck over while Doug addressed the group. When I hung back to organize my pens, she called out, “Hailey, I want you here for this.”
