Sketch (6 page)

“Nina and I have decided to try and work things out.”

It’s the first time I’ve said those words to anyone, and I still kind of can’t believe I’m saying them. I’ve worn this hurt for so long, I’m not sure I can let it go. That’s why I was beating on the bag so hard. I don’t want to continue taking this shit out on Nina, because if she’s willing to work at it, then so am I, but dealing with the hurt she caused is hard.

“Whaaaattttt?” Trace whistles.

He was privy to the first few weeks of me drowning myself in a bottle of Jack and cursing the day I met her.

“Yeah,” I confirm. He is the only one I talk to like this. I’m not a big “sharing my feelings” type of person to most of my friends, but Trace gets me. “There was a chain of events that led to me fucking her in my office…and when I say fucking her in my office I mean I used her. I’m really not proud of it, but I felt how I felt at the time, and I think it was the catalyst that broke us both through the shock of what we were doing to our marriage.”

Trace wraps his own hands up and motions for me to hold the bag for him. “You know you’ve got to go all in with that, right? The way you’ve gone all in with being shitty to her.”

I sigh. “I know, that’s what worries me. Like, how do I turn this off? How do I turn off the feeling of complete devastation I felt and the fear she’s going to do it again?”

“Bro. I know you. You’re one of the most driven and successful people I know. If you want this, you’re gonna figure it out.” He hits the bag hard enough for me to take a step back and center myself again. “Look at how you’ve attacked working out. You sure you don’t want to join me in the ring?”

I shake my head, grinning at him. “I love working with my hands too much.”

“Stay true to you, Dev, and whatever happens with Nina will happen. Don’t let yourself cater to her again. A marriage is a partnership. She’s got to meet you halfway, but you’ve got to meet her halfway and stop. Don’t let what her dad told you all those years ago keep fucking you up. You’re good enough. You’ve made that shop into one of the most successful tattoo shops we’ve ever had in Tennessee. You have people coming from across the country to sit in your chair. She’s lucky to have you,” he takes a deep breath, “and I think she’s beginning to realize that. Don’t force or push anything, and I think it’ll be all good.”

He stops, catching his breath, and I readjust the hat on my head, pulling the hem of my shirt up to wipe my forehead. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and realize that no matter how hard the circumstances were that brought about the change—the change has been good. I’m no longer focused on work all the time. Not having Nina around meant I didn’t need as much money. I’m taking care of myself like I never have before. In that moment I make a promise that I’m not going back to the person I was before. I like this Sketch—and maybe this is the Sketch Nina has needed all along.

*

I’m getting out
of the shower, enjoying the way the steam relaxes my muscles after a long workout. I haven’t punched the bag in a long time, and my biceps and forearms are telling me just how long it’s been. I need dinner, I know I do, I need to replenish the calories I’ve expended, but damn I’m lazy tonight.

It’s at that moment the smell of food assails my senses. A meal I haven’t smelled in a long time. If my sniffer is correct, it’s baked pork chops, homemade mac and cheese, and green beans; if I’m lucky there will be rolls too. My freakin’ favorite meal that Nina used to make me when I was apprenticing and we had the money for it. I’d come home dog-tired, and she’d have cooked it for me. I swallow roughly; it’s been years since she made it for me. I’m almost scared to walk out into the kitchen to see that what I’m thinking isn’t true.

C’mon, Dev,
I tell myself. You’ve done a lot in the past few months you never thought you would. Just walk the fuck out there and either face the fact you’re definitely losing your mind or Nina’s really here. One foot in the front of the other is how I’ve lived my life lately, so I do that. One foot in front of the other until I make it to the kitchen.

There she is, bent over the oven, checking those pork chops I love so much.

“What are you doing here?” The question comes out much harsher than I intend for it to, but I want to know, and I hope it means what I think it does.

SKETCH

S
he pops up,
the oven door closing with a loud snap as she turns around, her face red that I’ve caught her bent over.

“I wasn’t sure you were really here or if your truck was just here. Back in the day, there was no way you’d be home before ten, much less seven, but I heard the shower running, so I went ahead and got dinner started.”

I try to ignore the comment about me being home before seven, but I can’t. “Since I don’t have to worry about making all that money to keep you in your lifestyle anymore, I try to cut out around five. Sometimes I have to work later—like if there’s a walk-in, or if one of the other artists have something going on, but they’re learning to run the shop on their own.” I admit something to her that I should have done a long time ago. “And I’m learning to give up some control of the shop too. It’s not going to burn down just because I’m not there. The people I’ve hired are pretty fucking capable individuals.”

Her eyes are lowered, checking on the mac and cheese she’s just taken out of the oven, making sure it is done. Her voice is low as she speaks. “That money became important when I realized I wasn’t going to get to spend it with you. The shopping trips, the spa treatments, the new hair, the new car. They were there because you weren’t.”

It isn’t an accusation, like me telling her I didn’t need to work long hours because she wasn’t around anymore. It’s obvious that it’s the truth. I’m feeling generous, and quite frankly, I need to move on. “Then we can agree that me not being around and you being a spoiled brat is in our past?”

She smiles up at me. One I haven’t seen in years. There’s hope in her eyes, and the smile reaches to the edges of her lips, showing me the two dimples I almost forgot she has. “I can’t promise I won’t ever be a spoiled brat again, Sketch, but I can try my best.”

“And I can try my best to put us before the shop instead of using the shop as a way to make our marriage better,” I tell her truthfully.

“Is that really what you were doing?” she asks in a scared voice.

I turn away from her and go over to the fridge, taking out a bottle of water, and twist the cap off and drain it before I turn back to her. “I thought the status symbols were worth it, ya know? Giving you everything I thought you deserved. I never asked what you wanted. That hit me today. I never did; I just handed you shit and told you to be happy.”

“And I accepted it with a smile on my face until I expected it, and in the long run, I forgot to appreciate you. We’ve both been dumbasses,” she tells me as she turns around to grab the pork chops out of the oven and green beans from the stove.

I help her carry everything over to the dinner table she’s already set.

“I mean, take this for example,” she says as she has a seat beside me. “When was the last time I cooked your favorite meal and we sat down and ate together?”

I think back, a long way back, and it’s hard, but there’s a memory. “Six years ago,” I tell her as I take a bite of my pork chop, almost moaning as the flavor hits my tongue. “We bought this house, and it was our first meal here.”

“Wow.” She looks at me with wonder on her face. “I didn’t realize it had been that long.”

Neither had I.

“I’m sorry, Sketch. That’s all I can say. I’m sorry, and I want to give this a shot.”

It means a lot to hear her say that. “I’m sorry too. As long as we both put the work in, this will end up how it’s supposed to.” I don’t offer her promises, because I have none. Now, all I can offer her is the reality.

Beside me, my phone rings and I see her glance down at it, her body tense. The Sketch of before would have taken this call, left her alone for thirty minutes, and come back to a fuming wife. This time, I silence it, get up, walk over to the counter, and set it there before walking back over to the table. “How’s work going?” I ask.

The smile on her face is breathtaking, and the relaxing of her shoulders is the best gift I’ve ever been given.

“It’s going pretty well.” She takes a drink of the wine in front of her. “You don’t know this, but I changed positions.”

Back when she’d left me, Nina was an administrative coordinator for a Montessori School in the area. “Oh really?”

“Yeah.” She nods. “I hated being cooped up in that office all the time, running errands because no one else had the time. I have my own class now.” She beams at me with pride.

“For real?” I’m amazed. I never knew she wanted to teach, and I tell her so.

“I’ve been thinking about it for the past two years. When it seemed like we were never going to get around to trying for those kids we always talked about.” She slaps her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry.” Her face reddens.

I reach over and grab her hand. “I’m not going to say that doesn’t sting, but we can’t automatically change ourselves. There’s going to be some growing pains.”

She takes a breath. “Anyway, I started helping out in classes every once in a while. Two months ago, a full-time position opened up and I applied. I love it! I see why you want to go to work every day when you love what you do. It’s something new each day—of course, there are times when those kids are crazy, but I love that I’m making a difference.”

“I’m happy for you,” I tell her, and I am. “It means something when you go into work and you know you’re going to make a difference. It may be a small one, but it’s pretty damn sweet.”

I take the last bite of food on my plate and lean back against the chair. “I think I have a food baby in my belly.” I laugh. “Jesus, I normally don’t eat that much in a week anymore. I’m definitely gonna have to get my run in, in the morning,” I tell her as I lift up my shirt, showing how full I am.

Her lids get heavy, and a small smile tilts the edges of her mouth. “I noticed that about you. You’ve been working out.”

I feel the pull of her, I feel the pleasure she’s taking in looking at me, and it makes me feel ten feet tall and like the strongest motherfucker in the world. “I have,” I confirm. “It started out as a way to get rid of the anger. I found out I love running, but lately I’ve been doing more than cardio. I lost twenty-five pounds, and now I’ve put back on ten of muscle,” I tell her, the side of my own mouth kicking up in a grin.

“I like it.”

I can tell by the interest in her eyes that she does. Leaning over, I cup the back of her neck in my hand and pull her lips to mine. The pace I set is slow, leisurely, the way I want to fuck her next time. I pull back and get up from the chair, grabbing her hand. “C’mon.”

SKETCH

N
ina doesn’t comment
when I take us into the living room. The bedroom is still too intimate for me. It’s still a place I’m not sure I can go with her yet. I need to know she’s not going to change her mind before I take her there.

The two of us don’t say anything as I have a seat on the couch, leaning my back against the plush cushions and getting comfortable, placing my feet on the floor and widening my knees.

“C’mere.” I motion to her with my finger. She’s wearing a dress, so this is perfect.

When she gets close enough, I grab her around the waist and pull her so that she has to straddle my lap.

“What are we doing, Sketch?” she asks, biting her bottom lip.

“We’re seeing where it goes,” I tell her as I move my hands up from her waist and push them into her hair, tilting her head back on her shoulders.

Leaning forward, I kiss the pulse point there, sucking the skin and nipping it slightly with my teeth before running my tongue over the sting. She moans, tightening her fingers on my shoulders, grinding her hips against me. I’m already hard, but I’m ignoring it tonight. Tonight I want the tease.

Pushing my fingers further up into her hair, I tilt her head so that I can capture her lips, thrusting my tongue past hers, as she meets me halfway. She’s eating me up, just like I’m eating her up. I toy with the straps of her dress, taking them off her shoulders and pulling the material down to her stomach, taking the strapless bra with me. I spend a couple of minutes there, manipulating her perky breasts with my hands, punishing the skin, and plucking at her nipples.

My hands abandon her tits as I run them down her body, encountering the hem of the dress she’s wearing. My fingers trail up her thighs, and I feel her tremble in my arms. I push my hands up; bringing the dress with me until I feel the ties of the g-string she’s wearing at her hips. Quickly, I untie both sides and pull the material from between her legs.

“God, Sketch.” She pulls her lips away from mine, moaning as she buries her head in my neck. “I’m so wet, so hot, that almost made me come.”

I know exactly how she feels. The tease has always been the biggest turn on for me, and this is the biggest tease in the world, because tonight, I don’t plan on fucking her. I’m holding it from not only her but from me too. I want the next time we come together to be for the right reasons.