Over the years, I’ve accumulated some regulars—fans of my work who don’t care which studio I’m in. Holly’s marketing skills bring in new customers daily. Jamie and Ridley, the other two artists who joined our studio, have styles all their own, making sure we can serve a variety of clientele.

Some days get hectic and unstructured, but Holly just gives the reins a tug, and everything falls back into place. My girl is amazing, the way she makes sure everything runs how it should. Her mastery of the business side of this situation means I can concentrate on the customers and making their dreams a reality.

I love it.

I love her.

I finished up with my last appointment of the day a few minutes ago, giving them their tattoo care kit before letting them go. Ridley took the last walk-in, and the shop is set to close soon. As I set my station to rights, I observe Holly and her brother laughing together. He’s relaying some story as she adjusts a framed picture that has tilted off-balance.

The painting depicts a gorgeous forest scene. A Benjamin Gerhard the Second original. In fact, the shop houses a large amount of my grandfather’s art. Not all of it. Some we sold, donating the proceeds to a charity that supports cancer research. Holly’s idea. But many we haven’t put price tags on because I want a reminder of him when I walk into this shop. I wouldn’t have any of the things I love today if it wasn’t for him.

He taught me a love of art, which I’ve found a way to make a career of. And, in my grief over his death, I injured myself, which at first seemed like a cruel twist of fate but ended with me finding the love of my life.

I owe him everything.

Holly flips the front sign to inform everyone that we’re closed for the night. Then, she reaches for her purse under the front desk and walks over to me. I grab my water bottle and have my hand outstretched before she even asks. The daily pill container gives a little pop as she pushes the Thursday lid open and dumps out the colorful tablets into my palm.

I can handle my medications on my own, but Holly is calmer when she’s sure beyond a doubt that I’ve taken them. Gives her a sense of control.

After the transplant, we still had to deal with the waiting to see if my body would reject the donation. Luckily, nothing went wrong. Her little kidney is still chugging away nicely in my abdomen. Maybe it’s weird, seeing as how I’ve had it for years now, but I still think of the kidney as Holly’s. I always have a piece of her with me.

“Marcus wants to take us out to eat to celebrate my bravery.” She puffs out her chest in an overly exaggerated display, making me chuckle.

“By all means, let’s take advantage of your brother’s generosity.”