“You hate it,” he says. “I knew you wouldn’t like it. I’m sorry. I should have asked you first. I’ll turn it into a bird or something. All I need to do is add some feathers and a beak. And a couple of little feet.” He makes a face. “I don’t know. That probably won’t work. A walrus might be better.”

I grab his arm so he’ll stop talking. “Sam, it’s perfect. Better than perfect. I love it.”

His face breaks into a huge smile of relief. “You really like it? I’ve been thinking about it for days. I wanted it to be perfect. Hop down and come over here to the full-length mirror so you can see it better.”

I jump up quickly from the chair and everything goes black.

***

“Lila!” Sam’s voice is calling me from far away. “Lila! Open your eyes.”

I try to open my eyes and can’t. They feel so heavy. My ass hurts, too.

“Lila, come on, baby,” Sam says again. I can feel him sliding his arms under my legs and neck. What is he doing? He lifts me up and I struggle again to open my eyes.

“Sam,” I mumble against his neck. “What are you doing?”

He backs down into a chair and holds me cuddled on his lap. Carefully, he brushes the hair back from my face.

“You fainted,” he says. “Don’t try to talk. Sit still a minute. I’ve got you.”

His steady heartbeat under my ear is comforting, and I don’t want to move.

“What happened?” I ask after a minute. “I’ve never fainted in my life.”

“I don’t know,” he says, kissing the top of my head. “You jumped up to go look in the mirror and dropped straight down on the floor. I tried to catch you and barely managed to break your fall. Are you hurt anywhere?”

“My ass hurts.”

“That’s because of the tattoo. Do you remember that?”

I smile against his shirt.

“Yeah, I remember. I still love it.”

“The tattoo must have caused you to faint. I’m sorry if I hurt you. When you passed out, it scared the living shit out of me.” He tilts my face up. “Or are you sick and not telling me? If you are, you have to tell me.”

He’s worried I’m sick. Like his mom.

“I promise you, I’m not sick. I ran three miles today. How sick could I be? Don’t worry. I’m feeling better now.”

He doesn’t look convinced.

“I’m afraid to put you on the back of the bike for the ride home. What if you fall off? I should call Jesse and have him bring a car.”

“I’m fine,” I say. “All I need to do is put my clothes back on. First though, I want to look at the tattoo again. Stop worrying.”