“What do you mean?” Jiyong said, blanching. “We’re not here for me?”

The tattoo artist stared at us both, a little surprised at Jiyong’s surprise.

The entire taxi ride over, Jiyong assumed I was buying him a new tattoo as a wedding present. When I told the driver our destination, it never occurred to Jiyong that I would be the one getting inked. He talked about tattooing DARA somewhere on him, but since he already had BUTTERFLY on his wrist, I thought it would be redundant.

“It’s my turn,” I said, turning to the tattoo artist. “What’s your name?”

“Jay,” he said in a monotone.

“Of course,” I said. “I want MRS. KWON here.” I touched my finger to my jeans on the right side of my lower abdomen, just low enough not to be seen, even in a bikini. I wanted Jiyong to be the only one privy to my ink, a nice surprise every time he undressed me.

Jiyong beamed. “Mrs. Kwon?”

“Yes, in this font,” I said, pointing to a laminated poster on the wall featuring sample tattoos.

Jiyong smiled. “That fits you. It’s elegant, but not fussy.”

“Exactly. Can you do that?”

“I can. It’ll be about an hour. We have a couple people ahead of you. It’ll be two fifty.”

“Two fifty? For a few scribbles?” Jiyong said, his mouth falling open. “What the , chuck?”

“It’s Jay,” he said, unaffected.

“I know, but—”

“It’s okay, babe,” I said. “Everything is more in Vegas.”

“Let’s just wait until we get home, Butterfly.”

“Butterfly?” Jay said.

Jiyong sent him a death glare. “Shut up,” he warned, looking back at me. “This’ll be two hundred bucks cheaper back home.”

“If I wait, I won’t do it.”

Jay shrugged. “Then maybe you should wait.”

I glared at Jiyong and Jay. “I’m not waiting. I’m doing this.” I pulled out my wallet and shoved three bills at Jay. “So you take my money”—I frowned at Jiyong—“and you hush. It’s my money, my body, and this is what I want to do.”

Jiyong seemed to weigh what he was about to say. “But . . . it’s going to hurt.”

I smiled. “Me? Or you?”

“Both.”

Jay took my money and then disappeared. Jiyong paced the floor like a nervous expectant father. He peeked down the hall, and then paced some more. It was as cute as it was annoying. At one point he begged me not to do it, and then became impressed and touched that I was so hell-bent on going through with it.

“Pull down your jeans,” Jay said, getting his equipment ready.

Jiyong shot a piercing look at the short, muscular man from under his brow, but Jay was too busy to notice Jiyong’s most frightening expression.

I sat on the chair, and Jay pushed buttons. As the chair reclined, Jiyong sat on a stool on the other side of me. He was fidgeting.

“Ji,” I said in a soft voice. “Sit down.” I held out my hand and he took it, also taking a seat. He kissed my fingers, and offered a sweet but nervous smile.

Just when I thought he couldn’t take the waiting anymore, my cell phone buzzed in my purse.

Oh, God. What if it was a text message from Jo? Jiyong was already digging for it, grateful for the distraction.

“Leave it, Ji.”

He looked at the display and frowned. My breath caught. He held out the phone for me to take. “It’s Bom.”

I grabbed it from him and would’ve felt relief if it weren’t for the cold cotton swab running over my hip bone. “Hello?”

“Dara?” Bom said. “Where are you? Top and I just got home. The car is gone.”

“Oh,” I said, my voice an octave higher. I hadn’t planned on telling her yet. I wasn’t sure how to break the news, but I was sure she was going to hate me. At least for a little while.

“We’re . . . in Vegas.”

Bom laughed. “Shut up.”

“I’m totally serious.”

Bom grew quiet, and then her voice was so loud, I flinched. “WHY are you in Vegas? It’s not like you had a good time when you were there last!”

“Jiyong and I decided to . . . we kind of got married, Bommie.”

“What! This isn’t funny, Dara! You better be ing joking!”

Jay placed the transfer onto my skin and pressed. Jiyong looked like he wanted to kill him for touching me.

“You’re silly,” I said, but when the tattoo machine began to hum my entire body tensed.

“What’s that noise?” Bom said, steaming.

“We’re at the tattoo parlor.”

“Is Jiyong getting branded with your real name this time?”

“Not exactly . . .”