"But you have superb penmanship. So write me something. Write me a love letter."

My mouth parts in wonder at the trust I see reflected in his gaze. Knowing I can't fail him, I grab the tattoo pen, getting used to the feel of it in my hand.

Without dwelling too much on it, I bring the tip to his skin. The machine vibrates slightly in my hand, releasing a humming sound as the tip penetrates his skin. I take my time, making sure each stroke is perfect.

"Does it hurt?" I suddenly ask when I feel him wince.

"No, keep going," he assures me.

I take a deep breath as I concentrate on my design, letting the letters curl in a beautiful ornament. I'm so focused on what I'm doing that I lose track of time.

Line after line, stroke after stroke, I only know that I can't afford to make even one small error. And after what seems like an eternity, I lean back, wiping my forehead with the back of my hand.

"I think I'm done." I smile as I regard my masterpiece.

His skin is red all around the new tattoo, and I grab the soothing gel, gently applying it to the sensitive area.

Nikki releases a big breath, and despite his assurances, I'm convinced it wasn't all that comfortable for him.

"So what did you write?"

"Go see for yourself." I point to the bathroom.

He gets up and, grabbing his cane, goes straight for the big mirror in the bathroom.

"Fucking hell," he mutters in awe.

At the top of his collarbone, I wrote:

Lucero's Lover

Underneath it, I put the first lines of my favorite poem by Pablo Neruda:

Cuántas veces, amor, te amé sin verte y tal vez sin recuerdo, sin reconocer tu mirada, sin mirarte.

"You like it?" I ask sheepishly as I lay my head on his back.

"I love it, Luce. This is... It's absolutely perfect." He swallows hard, his throat clogging with emotion.

I smile as I nuzzle my cheek against his skin.

"How many times, my love, I loved you without seeing and maybe without memory, without recognizing your gaze, without even looking," I whisper the words in English.

Meeting his gaze in the mirror, I notice the moisture clinging to his lashes and the heartfelt I love you that he softly mouths to me.

* * *

We start our morning with a hearty breakfast. Nikki takes his medicine while I tend to his tattoo, applying more cream and some foil on top of it so it won't get irritated by his clothes. Once that's done, we're back on the road.

"Tonight, I want you to tattoo something on me too," I tell him once we're back on the highway.

He looks at me in surprise.

"I know there isn't much space, but I'd love to have your words on me, too."