Forged with Ink (London Inked Boys Book 3)

by Marissa Farrar

  Sophia grinned. “You sound like my mother.”

  Her lips pursed. “You know we don’t recommend tattoos for dialysis patients. What if the needle was dirty and you contracted Hepatitis B or C? You know that would put you off the waiting list for a new kidney.”

  Sophia exhaled a sigh. “If I lived my life around waiting for a kidney that never seems to be coming, then I’d never do anything I wanted. Anyway, the place was reputable. I did my research, and actually, the guy who did it was my best friend from childhood.” A smile crept across her face as she remembered.

  Linda studied her expression. “Was he now? From the way you’re blushing, I’d say he was more than a friend.”

  The heat in her face deepened. “Yeah, he was actually. He was my first boyfriend—my only real boyfriend. He was my first everything, really.”

  “But the two of you stayed friends all this time? How come you never mentioned him before?”

  She flapped a hand. “Oh, we lost touch. I moved away suddenly with my family, and then I started getting sick. I didn’t want to burden him with all that.”

  “So are you staying in touch now?”

  She shrugged. “I’m not sure. We swapped numbers, but I didn’t tell him about all of this. It’s a bit much to dump on someone you haven’t seen for ten years.”

  Her voice softened. “Not if that someone cares about you, Sophia.”

  She shrugged and glanced away. “Maybe.”

  But he couldn’t still care about her after all these years. Perhaps he had, once upon a time, but not anymore. And even if he did, she wasn’t sure she’d even let him.

  Chapter Five

  Rocco finished his day’s work.

  He’d been distracted at every moment, struggling to focus on his art when all he could think about was how Sophia Alexander had walked back into his life. His phone had been taunting him all day, and he’d had to stop his fingers from creeping across to it and sending her a text message. It felt bizarre, to know someone so completely, and yet for that same person to be a stranger. A part of him just wanted for them to fall straight back into how they’d been ten years ago, while the other part knew doing such a thing wasn’t that easy. He’d been so angry with her for so long, just skipping out on his life like that when they’d meant the whole world to each other, and it was an anger he hadn’t thought he’d ever have been able to let go of. But now she was here, in London, he found somewhere along the line, that anger had completely evaporated. All he wanted was to be back in her company, to laugh with her, to touch her, to kiss her mouth.

  But just because he felt that way, didn’t mean she did, too. He’d seen the way she’d hesitated when he’d asked for them to stay in touch, and he had to keep reminding himself that she was the one who’d not stayed in touch with him. She could have tracked him down, if she’d wanted to, but she hadn’t.

  Was it possible that all those years of growing up together, becoming adults together, and exploring all the intensity of young love simply hadn’t meant as much to her as it had to him?

  He packed up for the day, ready to head home. He shared a flat with a couple of other guys. Things had been different since Art had hooked up with Tess, and now Kane had met Holly. The three of them used to finish work and then kick back with some beers, listening to music, or playing Xbox, just ribbing each other and hanging out. He knew they’d each meet someone eventually—it wasn’t as though the single life was still fun when you were heading into your thirties and forties—but he hadn’t expected for him to be the one on his own. Art had been the biggest player out of all of them, and Rocco had been amazed when his boss had settled down with Tess. But Tess was cool, and Art seemed happy, so there wasn’t much Rocco could do about it.

  “Hey,” Tess called over to him when he left his studio. She was behind the reception desk, filling out some paperwork. “How did you leave things with the redhead? The pair of you looked like you were both seeing ghosts earlier.”

  He shrugged. “We exchanged numbers, that’s all.”

  Her eyebrows lifted. “That’s all? The tension between the two of you was insane. I’m surprised the shop didn’t spontaneously combust. You need to call her.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “No, not ‘we’ll see’. You need to call her.”

  “Fucking hell, Tess, what are you, Cupid all of a sudden?”

  “I’m happy, and I want to see other people happy. The two of you clearly have history, and if you just let her go, you’ll be kicking yourself.” She pointed the pen she was holding at him. “You’ll regret not doing something more than you’ll regret doing it.”

  He thought back to the heartache he’d suffered at seventeen, when Sophia had vanished from his life. It had been a long time since he’d even looked at girls again after that. “I’m not so sure about that.”

  But she was on his mind, consuming his thoughts. Could he really just let her go?

  “You’re in tomorrow, aren’t you?” Tess called to him.

  “Yep, bright and early.”

  “Make sure you’ve called her by then. I’ll expect a progress report.”

  He lifted a hand in a wave as he exited the building. Tess could be really pushy at times. She’d done the same thing with Kane and Holly, but then he guessed that had worked out for them, even if Kane had ended up having to figure out how to make things work with Holly when she had a six-year-old son on board and a dickhead of an ex-husband. The heart wanted what the heart wanted, and common sense didn’t always come into things.

  Fuck. When had he become a romantic?

  He caught the Tube home and let himself into the flat. The trouble with living with two other guys was that none of them were exactly house-proud.

  What would Sophia think if she came back here and saw all the empty pizza boxes and the rubbish piled high with empty beer cans? He’d be ashamed of the way they lived.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why did he care what a woman he hadn’t even seen for ten years thought of him? He shouldn’t, he knew that. He’d never cared what a woman thought before. Even the ones he’d dated for a while had simply had to put up with him the way he was, yet now he found himself picking up the pizza boxes and hauling the full black bag out of the bin to put in the communal rubbish downstairs. She’d taken over his mind, and he’d only spent an hour in her company. He remembered how it had felt to hold her ankle in his hand, how much he’d wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her tight and tell her how much he’d missed her. He wanted to know if her hair still smelled the same and if she still made that sexy little groaning sound when he went down on her.

  Rocco stopped what he was doing and put his face in his hands. Shit. He was going to have to call her. Tess was right. He’d regret not doing it more than he’d ever regret calling her. Perhaps he felt as though she should be the one doing the calling, considering she’d been the one who’d dumped him when they’d been teenagers, but they weren’t teenagers any longer. They were adults now, and adults didn’t hold ten-year-old grudges.

  He took his phone out of his pocket, surprised to find nerves skittering in his chest. This was crazy. He didn’t get nervous calling women either. Was he worried she wouldn’t answer? Or was it that he knew this phone call could be the start of something that would be like an earthquake shattering through his life?

  “Come on, Rocco,” he said to himself, “stop being such a pussy.”

  He took a breath and scrolled down the screen until he reached her name and then hit the green button to dial.

  He put the phone to his ear and waited while it rang. She might not even answer, could even be screening his calls. He didn’t think he’d misread the tension between them earlier that day, but it wasn’t as though she’d jumped at the chance of giving him her number. All his muscles were taut, his biceps bunched and his shoulders hunched, and he forced himself to relax.

  “Rocco?”

  So lost in thought, he’d almost missed her answer.

  “Sop
hia. Yeah, hi, it’s me. I hope you don’t mind me calling.”

  “No, of course not. I’ve kind of been wondering if you would.”

  “You have?”

  “Yeah, of course. I still can’t believe we ran into each other today, after all these years.”

  Her voice was so sweet. Now he couldn’t see her, it was easy to believe they’d been transported back in time, and they were both seventeen again.

  “I know. Crazy, right.” He cleared his throat. “So, how’s the tattoo?”

  “It’s fine at the moment. Only a little sore.”

  “It’ll be when it starts to heal that it’ll get itchy and drive you crazy.”

  “I’m sure I can survive a little itching,” she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

  He just needed to dive in and ask her. “I wondered if you wanted to grab a drink some time, you know, catch up?”

  “Umm...”

  There she went again, hesitating, and he didn’t know why.

  “It’s fine if you don’t want to,” he rushed on. “I just thought it might be fun.”

  “You know what? You’re right, it would be fun. Where do you want to meet?”

  “Dinner, tomorrow,” he suggested. “I’ll take you out. My treat.”

  “That sounds lovely. Where?”

  He wanted to take her out as an experience. One of those pop-up restaurants in people’s homes. It was supposed to be incredible food, and he knew someone who was friends with them and would hopefully be able to book them a table at such short notice.

  “I’ll text you the address,” he said. “Seven p.m. okay?”

  “Sure, I can do seven.”

  He pressed the phone closer to his ear, a wide smile plastered across his face. “Great. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Chapter Six

  “I’m going out tonight, Mum,” she called as her mother banged around the kitchen.

  The banging stopped. “You are? Where?”

  “Into the city. I have a date.”

  “A date? With who?”

  “Well, you’re never going to believe it, but with Richard from when we were growing up.”

  Her mother, Diane, frowned. “The boy with the alcoholic father?”

  “Yes, Mum. My first love. The boy I grew up with.”

  “I know who he is, Sophia,” her mum sniped. “I’m just surprised to hear you use his name. I figured the two of you had fallen out since you never made any mention of him after we’d moved.”

  “After you tore me away from him, you mean?” How had her mother ended up with such a warped view of what had happened? “I cried for weeks after that move.”

  “You weren’t well.”

  “I know that, but I was also heartbroken. He meant everything to me, and you made me leave him.”

  “He wasn’t the right sort of boy for you anyway, Sophia. He came from a rough background.”

  Her mouth dropped. She had no idea her mother had felt that way about him. They’d always been hanging around together, and she’d assumed her mother had liked him.

  “Wow, judgemental much?”

  Her mum tutted and rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t like that, and you know it wasn’t. It was fine when the two of you were small children, but then when you were teens he wasn’t exactly a good influence. The pair of you were always staying out too late, and there was the sex and the drinking...”

  “We were teenagers. We were in love. That’s what teenagers do.”

  “How do you know if all that bad behaviour wasn’t the cause of your illness? Perhaps if you hadn’t been drinking so much, then your kidneys wouldn’t have started to fail.”

  “Oh, my God, Mum. It was ten years ago, and my kidneys are defective, whether I drank back then or not. And even if I did, it was the odd cider at the weekend in the park. It’s not like I was drinking a bottle of vodka a day.”

  Her eyebrows lifted. “Unlike that boy’s dad. What’s Richard doing now then, anyway?”

  She almost didn’t want to tell her, already knowing what the response would be. “He’s a tattoo artist.”

  “Oh, Sophia. Really?” She exhaled a breath of disappointment. “I assume he was the one who put that monstrosity on your ankle? It really does make you look cheap.”

  “I don’t care. It’s my body, and there isn’t exactly much I have control over these days, so if I want to get a tattoo, then I will.”

  “Don’t come crying to me if the donor board bumps you down the list because you’re not taking care of yourself like you should. You know they can do that if they want to.”

  “Mum, there’s no chance I’m getting a donor any time soon. I only just started dialysis. I’ve got years to wait, and there’s no way in hell I’m not going to live my life while I’m waiting. I’ve already put my life on hold for so long.”

  She knew her mother cared and was protective of her—and Sophia would probably be exactly the same way if she had a sick daughter—but that didn’t stop the anger rising inside her. “I’m twenty-seven years old, Mum. I don’t need your permission to do anything. Now, I’m going out, and I’ll give Richard—or Rocco as he’s now called—your love, shall I?”

  With that, feeling exactly like a teenager again, she slammed out of the house.

  She’d gone for a casual look, in a long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans, even though the weather was warm. She knew there was a chance she’d end up having to tell Rocco about her kidney failure at some point that evening, but she didn’t want to. She liked him seeing her as that seventeen-year-old girl he’d once known. Now everyone saw her as the sick girl, the one they felt sorry for and talked to her mother about, saying things like ‘such a shame’ and ‘she’s so young’, as though she was already dead.

  She caught the train into the city and then the nearest Tube to the address Rocco had texted her. It didn’t mention the name of a restaurant, so she wondered if it was actually his address and he was going to cook for her. He’d never shown any interest in cooking before, but things changed.

  She left the Tube station and walked down the road, following the map on Google.

  She saw him, standing out in the street, holding a bunch of flowers. He wore a shirt and a smart pair of jeans, though the tattoos were still visible on his wrists and neck. It was an alarmingly attractive combination, and she found her stomach flipping and her pulse rate taking off. Oh, no. She couldn’t allow herself to react to him that way. He was an old friend, and they were catching up, that was all.

  Something occurred to her. If this was his address, why was he standing outside?

  He spotted her, and a wide smile spread across his face, and he lifted his hand in a half wave.

  “Hi.” His arm slipped around her waist as he leaned in to kiss her cheek.

  Her heart caught at the proximity of him, and the scent of his cologne sent her pulse racing afresh.

  “Hi,” she replied. He pushed the small bunch of flowers into her arms. She glanced down at them. “Daisies! You remembered.”

  He shrugged, embarrassed. “I’m not going to forget your favourite flower. Assuming they’re still your favourite, of course.”

  She grinned. “Yes, they are. Thanks, Rocco.”

  “It’s weird hearing you call me that.”

  She laughed. “It’s weird calling you that.”

  “You can keep calling me Richard, if you want.”

  “Nah, I think Rocco suits you better now.” She took in their location. “So, where have you brought me?”

  “It’s a pop-up restaurant. The couple who live here open up their front room once a month and serve guests. The husband does all the cooking, and she is front of house. It’s got great reviews, and I know someone who knows them, and they were able to get us a table.”

  “I’ve never been to anything like this before,” she said.

  “No, me neither, but I thought it would be more chilled out than going to a regular restaurant.”

  “You know, when I saw the
address on your text, I thought you might have invited me to your place for dinner.”

  It was his turn to laugh. “No, I can’t cook for shit. Sorry.”

  “That’s okay. I can be the one to do the cooking.” She realised what she’d said. It implied they would be spending the sort of time together that meant one of them would need to be cooking.

  Automatically, she wanted to glance away, but he was looking at her so intently, the ghost of a smile on his lips, that she couldn’t help but stare back. She didn’t think she’d ever get over how strange it felt to see him again, like he was a time travel portal and she could use him to transport her back to a time before her illness had taken over everything.

  “We’d better go in,” he said, breaking the moment. “We don’t want to miss the first course.”

  She smiled, and they turned together, walking side by side towards the house where the pop-up restaurant was taking place. She was so conscious of where his body was in relation to hers, and, as their arms brushed, she had to physically hold herself back from reaching out and clinging tight to his biceps and telling him how much she’d missed him and how sorry she was.

  He held the door open for her, and she stepped inside. Music was playing in the background, something soft, and the living room had been set out with a number of chairs and tables, each with a crisp white tablecloth, polished glasses, and heavy silver wear. Several other people were already in the room—another couple and a table of four. Everyone looked up as they walked in, and she smiled around, suddenly shy and tempted to hide behind Rocco.

  A woman in her thirties rushed up to them from the back of the house. “Hi, and welcome! You must be... Hmm... Let me guess.” She paused and tapped her finger to her lips. “Sophia and Rocco.”

  Sophia smiled, immediately warming to the woman. “That’s right.”

  “I have a talent for matching faces to names.”

  “Oh, right,” Sophia said.

  “I’m only joking. You’re our last table in tonight.”

  She surprised a laugh from Sophia. “Of course. We’re not too late, are we? That’s my fault.”