Pure Belleza | ✔️

(42)

Kyla always said to me that she wanted me to move on after she was gone. She repeated it and I was adamant it couldn't be done.

Or more to the point, I wasn't sure she meant it. But after reading her thoughts, her words, I know she was being genuine.

A journal was a place that was personal. A place to reveal what was in someone's heart and mind.

If she was scared about the fact that I would move on, that's where she would have voiced it.

And after reading her journal, it was like a weight had been lifted. She would always hold a special place in my heart. That would never change.

She was my first love. My first loss. She taught me so much about who I am as a partner and I would never forget that.

But I no longer felt gut wrenching guilt when I thought about Amalia. When I thought about kissing her and spending time with her and doing other things with her.

It made a huge difference. I was grateful that Justine took the time to bring me the journal. She's a good woman.

On Wednesday, my second day working at the gallery, I locked up at four and started down the road.

What appealed to Elias about the location for his second Delgado gallery was that it was close to his daughter's place of work.

That meant it was easy for him to go and see her if he was in New York and she didn't have far to go if she needed to come in and help.

It also made it easier for me to go a block over after I was done for the day. She had a late night booking with a customer who couldn't get time off during the day.

He paid a little extra for her to remain open late. But I knew she had to hang around for a couple of hours in between.

So I opened the door at the small parlour with a carton of hot noodles and wontons.

I hadn't been in here before but it was a standard establishment with art on the walls and pictures of client tattoos.

A desk extended from the left wall and created an L shape. It was covered in pamphlets of information, small steel figures of dragons and a rack of tattoo aftercare ointment.

The door closed behind me and the man behind the counter who was counting cash, peered up.

He was tall and lean with a slight hunch in his shoulders, more piercings on his face than skin and blonde frazzled hair that was down to his shoulders.

"How's it going mate?" He had a thick Australian accent.

He must have been in his mid thirties but he had tan skin. Like he'd spent a lot of time in the sun and I wondered if that aged him.

"Hey, good thanks," I said and let my eyes sweep the area. Before I could ask for Amalia, the tall Australian bellowed out for her.

"Mal," he shouted over his shoulder towards the back area. "Mal you have a guest, chick."

He looked at me as he opened a deposit bag and started slipping the money into it. "The good looking blokes are always here for Mal."

The abrupt bout of envy startled me. But I couldn't help it.

I imagined all of the men she would tattoo. The fact she'd have to be up close and personal with them.

I'd never given it much thought until now. But I shook it off. I didn't have the right to be jealous. I also wondered what kind of relationship this guy had with her.