"Only ten more minutes until the new year!" she says excitedly.
"Thanks, Auntie," I say.
"When do we get to start planning the wedding?" she asks grinning from ear to ear.
"You mean when do you get to start?" I ask.
"You, me, us. It takes a village. Especially if we're short on time," she says rubbing my stomach.
"I think we'll wait until after the baby is born. I'd like a flat stomach in my wedding pictures," I joke (but not really).
"I don't see why we have to wait," Roman pouts.
"Because it's the bride's day," I respond. "And I want to look stunning."
He threads his fingers in my hair. "You already do, Duchess."
"Okay love birds, I see you may need to iron out the details, before I get involved."
We watch my aunt flit away as if she's walking on sunshine over to both of my parents. They exchange a few words that I can't hear but then start laughing together. Actually laughing. And then she places her hand on my father's upper arm as they continue smiling, and for once I'm hopeful that our union may bring the family finally together. They all seem so genuinely happy for us. Happy to be together.
I didn't notice earlier, but at some point Roman must have pulled one of the smaller sunflowers from one of the vases. It's in his hand. He snaps half of the stem off and places the remaining flower behind my ear.
"You've grown as tall as a sunflower, Duchess."
I know what he means. I'm excited about who I'm becoming too.
I'm growing, evolving, and blossoming.
A business owner. A mother. A wife.
"That's because you watered me and I grew," I say.
"Happy New Year, baby."
Then my fiancé pulls me in tightly and kisses me senseless as our friends and family begin cheering and roaring the new year in.
"HAPPY NEW YEAR!!"
"And don't worry," he says after breaking off our kiss and savoring it a little further by licking his bottom lip. "I was just messing with you earlier today. I'm going to fuck you senseless as soon as we get home."
"Promises. Promises."
EPILOGUE
Zoe Clarkson
I'm an artist, and I'm sensitive about my shit. I specialize in creating meaningful, permanent works of art on the human canvas. Some people call them tattoos, ink, or body art.
I require every client to have a thirty minute, consultation with me before I design any permanent art for them. After the consultation, I immediately start drawing the design in my head while the inspiration is fresh. While clients are waiting I prep them for their experience.
They relax in my sitting area where they can eat, listen to music, watch television or just nap. Due to the nature of my work I prefer to take only three clients a day. Elizabeth and Roman are my last appointment.
I tend to work a lot with couples. Couples seem to be more drawn to the type of work that I do, because my art has to mean something. It has to be important to the person first and foremost, to the couple secondly, and then to me third. Everyone has to be in agreement with the design or it doesn't work.
After listening to Roman and Elizabeth's story during our consult, I am very clear about what I will create for these complicated lovers. Especially after reading Elizabeth's email that she sent me prior to this session.
She's quite pregnant, which I knew beforehand, so I've made especially sure to make the accommodations soothing and comfortable. This needs to be a totally pleasant experience. Especially with that huge fiancé of hers out there stewing. He isn't happy, but he will be when he sees the final result.
I've decided that he has to stay outside of my workspace tonight because for one, the permanent art is a surprise for him, and two because his energy consumes the oxygen in the room. It's very important for me that I have a clear space to concentrate on my design, and Elizabeth needs to just be. Not fret after him.
I prep the room and have her lie in my elevated, oversized chaise lounger. After approving the design, she's ready. Sometimes I create intricate, painstaking works of art that take many sessions to complete, and other times I just etch a few meaningful words that take an hour tops. She has chosen the latter.
"Turn on your side, Elizabeth. This won't take long."
I stick my earbuds in my ears and get to work.
Then after about an hour of careful writing and shading it's done. Etched above Elizabeth's right buttock and a little to the right, close to her hip, are the words she selected in a midnight blue script with a variety of swirls and shadows of lighter shades of blue highlighting it.
"Masterson Made"
Evidently her guy mentioned to her a dream he had about tatting the words Masterson Made on both of her butt cheeks. Something about him being totally responsible for her new and improved hips and butt. Unbeknownst to either of them at the time though, the real reason why Elizabeth was spreading is because she is pregnant with their first child.
A boy.
And now she's won some sort of bet between the two of them.
"How do you feel?" I ask her. Spreading a little salve on the design and covering it temporarily with gauze before the big reveal.
"It stung, but it wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be."
"Exactly what I wanted to hear. Here, let me help you up so you can take a look. Here's a mirror."
She smiles brightly, and I know that I've done well.
"I love it," she says to me.
"I'm so glad. Should you bring your fiancé in now?"
"Yep, let's do it."
I go out to the waiting area to get her guy. He's big in stature and in presence. Right now he's sitting in one of my chairs with his legs spread wide, and his body bent over with his elbows and forearms on his knees, staring absentmindedly at his phone.
"She's finished, Mr. Masterson."
His head pops up as if he's been on the edge the entire time we've been in here. God help them (or really her) when it's time for that baby to come. He's going to be a nervous wreck.
"Did you hurt her?" he asks gruffly.
Like I would say yes if I did. Puh-lease.
"No, sir. She barely felt a thing."
"I don't know why I couldn't be in there," he grumbles.
"It's a surprise," I say excitedly. "Of course you couldn't be in there."
"Whatever."
Elizabeth's eyes almost shimmer when her man enters the room, as if their hour apart was excruciating for the both of them to bear.
"Are you still grumpy?" she asks him.
He stares at the gauze and shakes his head.
"What the fuck have you done, Elizabeth?"
I turn my back to the couple and start cleaning up my workspace to keep busy while the two of them spar.
"Lift the bandage, and take a look."
"Why are you so stubborn. If you had to get this damn tat while you're still pregnant, then why didn't you use my guy? No offense," he says to me.
"None taken," I reply.
"If you would stop grumbling for one second and take a look."
I love how this woman doesn't take his shit. They are a great match. I'm glad she trusted me to do this for them.
When he lifts the bandage and reads the words, he grins, and looks up at her as if she's the most amazing woman on the planet.
"Do you see the colors I used?" she asks him.
"Blue."
She waits a second for it to register.
"Blue? We're having a boy?"
"Yes!" she says excitedly.
He grabs her face with his palms and plants a huge kiss on her lips. I don't want to watch, but then again I can't look away. Their obvious connection makes my ovaries want to applaud.
"And you know what that means," she continues. "It means that I won the bet."
His face drops.
"Oh shit."
"Oh shit is right, Mr. Masterson." She smirks.
"What do you want?" he asks with a wariness to his voice.
>
"You have to give it to me. A bet is a bet."
"What. Do. You. Want. Nerd."
"I-want-us-to-get-married-in-Vegas-so-your-mother-can-come," she blurts out.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me."
"Uh-uh."
"Um, Zoe, we're going to need the room."
Is he kicking me out of my own space?
"Well, I'm going to be closing–" I say before he cuts me off.
"Here's a hundred as a tip for the nice work, but we'll be needing the fucking room, or you can stay and watch. Your choice."
Uh ...
"On your feet, Duchess."
"A bet is a bet," she says again teasingly.
I can't believe she's still egging this maniac on with a victorious look on her face. I was scared to leave her alone with him for a moment, but now I'm starting to think that she's totally got this. Maybe she does realize her own power over this man.
"And I'm going to honor your bullshit bet, because I love the ground that your pretty little ass walks on; but right now you're going to lean on the chaise, lift up your dress, and spread your fucking legs."
"Masterson," she exhales harshly.
"Good thing your panties are already off, or I'd rip those fuckers to shreds right now. Now let me have a taste," he growls.
And that's my cue to leave.
My work here is done.
Well done.
BONUS EPILOGUE
Jade & Camden
I'm doing something that I haven't done in a really long time, and I know I'm probably going to regret it tomorrow, but I'm meeting my younger sister Jana for lunch. I may be three years older than her, but she has always been smarter, more mature, and more successful than I ever have–and she never lets me forget it.
"Has a waiter come over yet?" she asks, while plopping her overpriced handbag on the table.
"Hello to you too, Jana."
"Oh yeah, hi. Happy New Year and all of that. Sorry that I'm a little snappy, but I'm hungry as hell. I had a really long class this morning and skipped breakfast. The professor I work for is so demanding. You're so lucky you didn't pursue this type of career path, Jade."
I have the strongest urge to pluck my sister in the middle of her forehead like I did when we were kids. Jana enjoys throwing in my face any chance she can how she's a teaching assistant for a prominent professor at Temple University, while passively aggressively reminding me of how I barely made it out of high school algebra.
"The server said he'd be right back," I say dryly.
"Is the service here okay?"
She looks around with her nose turned up as if my selection of restaurant is beneath her. As if she has no recollection of how our parents idea of dinner out was a Friday night at McDonald's.
"It's fine," I say with an attitude. "I've eaten here twice before with Roman. You know him right? My rich boss."
"Yes, yes Jade. I'm well aware."
After I flag down our server, a very sluggish boy with freckles and a sandy brown Mohawk (my sister probably isn't too far off about the service here) takes our order.
"Still eating salads every meal I see."
"That's right," I reply smirking. "I need to keep my girlish figure."
This is one of the other things between us. Jana is about twenty-five pounds overweight, and I've always been small and pretty fit, which I attribute equally to good genes, exercise and a decent diet.
"You could stand to eat a burger or two. You look thin. Too thin. Is that boss of yours working you too hard?"
She always tells me stuff like this. I'm used to it by now. That's Jana speak for you look better than me, bitch.
"I helped him plan a very romantic proposal to his girlfriend last week, but other than that, work is pretty easy going nowadays."
Our waiter brings us both glasses of ice water with lemon wedges and also a Sprite for Jana. I play around with the lemon inside of my glass as I wait for Jana to get to the real point of this lunch. There's always a point.
"So ... I saw Dad the other day."
I should have seen this coming, but if she was trying to spring a daddy conversation on me, she should have taken me out for drinks not lunch. I need to be totally trashed to talk about that bastard.
"So."
"I think he may be sick. Seriously sick."
I twirl the ice around in my water with the straw, watching as bits of lemon pulp swirl around inside, turning my water cloudy. Like my mood.
"So."
"So ... I think you should go see him."
"And why would I do that?"
"So he can apologize to you before he leaves this earth, which by the looks of him is going to be relatively soon."
I take a long sip of my water. Staring at my sister like the unbelievable turncoat that she is.
"Maybe you were too young to really remember him at his worst, Jana. So I'm going to chalk this conversation up to your youth and ignorance, but let me tell you something ..."
I pull my straw out and point it defiantly at her. She watches as drops of lemon water drip down on the table, driving her absolutely nuts.
"Our father is a motherfucker, and I don't care if he's gasping his last breaths right this very minute. I have no interest in visiting him, talking to him, and certainly no interest in forgiving him."
Her eyes bulge.
"Gosh, Jade, you're so nasty when you're hungry. Where is Mohawk dude with our food? This place is so slow."
"It's worth the wait."
I have a bad habit of sitting on my phone, and cracking the screen at least twice a year. I really need to carry a bag, but I'm a bit of a tomboy and never really got used to them. They just get in my way.
I feel my phone buzzing in the back pocket of my jeans. It's just a feeling, but I think I already know who it is. He's relentless.
KingKong: You still avoiding me?
Me: No
KingKong: You're not?
Me: I was never avoiding you. I haven't even been thinking about you.
KingKong: Now we both know that's a lie.
Me: I'm busy right now. Leave me alone.
KingKong: Busy doing what?
Me: Lunch
KingKong: With who?
Me: My lover. A famous Brazilian soccer player. You don't know him.
KingKong: That's a very specific fantasy lover :)
Me: Do you know a real one? I'd like to meet him.
KingKong: I'm going to ignore that.
"Are you going to text your fuck buddy during our entire lunch?" Jana interrupts like a splash of cold water.
"What are you talking about? Fuck buddy," I mutter.
"I can tell by your facial expressions that you're texting a man. A man whom you have either fucked or want to fuck. You're smiling quite devilishly."
"Lower your voice," I demand.
"Am I wrong?"
"It's just one of the other guys I work for."
"One of those hot twins? Are you sleeping with one of them now?"
"They aren't twins," I say flatly. "They're nothing alike."
"Oh. I just assumed. Well which one are you messing around with?"
"We're not messing around."
"Which one were you just angry texting then?"
I sigh.
"The older one."
KingKong: You still there?
Me: What. Do. You. Want.
KingKong: You know what I want.
Me: Is this about Baltimore?
KingKong: It's about me inside of you in Baltimore.
Ugh. He won't let this shit go, and I'm about sick of it. I went to Baltimore on a fool's errand, but still, it was completely my own business. Then here he comes running after me. Inserting himself in my damn business.
Okay so maybe I did slip and fall on his dick in a Baltimore hotel, but while I may not have Jana's book smarts, I have plenty of common sense, and I know better than to do that silly shit twice. Not going to happen. No matter how much he pushes the issue.
Me: Stop texting me about this. We have to work together.
KingKong: Or I can work that tight pussy of yours again.
I'm erasing these messages as soon as I get up from this table. He is so disgusting.
Me: You didn't work it well before. So I pass.
KingKong: Such the little liar. You better bring your sweet little ass to the club by nine, or you and I are going to have a much bigger problem than my dick in your mouth.
Oh my God. I can't stand him. The worst mistake I ever made was spreading my legs for that arrogant, computer hacking, asshole. I mean seriously. He's touched in the head. Completely nuts.
"Where is our damn food?" I slam my phone down on the table livid by the exchange I've just had with Camden and irritated that it takes thirty minutes to get a chicken Caesar salad in this place.
"Excuse me!" Jana turns around and yells at a group of servers who are by the register. "Somebody better bring us our food real soon or somebody's going to catch a murder charge."
I can't help but laugh. Jana can be pretentious, and a pain in my ass, but sometimes I forget that she and I were raised in the same dysfunctional home, and sometimes some of that fire kicks in. Her approach works though, because lo and behold our food, which evidently had been ready and waiting for Mohawk to pick up is delivered.
"Sorry 'bout that," Mohawk apologizes. "We're short staffed today."
"Uh, huh," my sister says unconvinced. "Can you please just bring us some ketchup and some extra napkins? Like right now?" she snaps.
"Of course." He raises one of his eyebrows at that finger snap. "I'll be right back with that."
"He's going to spit in your ketchup." I chuckle. "This is a nice restaurant. It will be easy for him to do because they bring it in a little dish, not a bottle, and he's pissed."
"Nice restaurant my ass."
I take a bite of my salad. It's delicious like I remembered. They make a great Caesar dressing here. No one can pick an out of the way restaurant with great food like Roman.
"So how's school?" I ask, sincerely wanting to know.
The Cousins Series Boxed Set Page 63
