by Anna Brooks
“He’s right,” Charlotte chimes in. “The snow was starting on the way back here. I’m not comfortable being out in it with the baby.”
Mary nods but disappointment sits on her face. We say goodbye, and as soon as I shut the door, she plops down on the couch and flips through the channels. I stand there and watch her. Her left leg bounces up and down. She twirls her hair. Her eyes are on the TV, but she’s not actually watching it.
I stand in front of her, blocking the screen. “Talk to me.”
“What have you done the past ten years?”
“What do you mean?”
“Exactly that. What have you done with your life?
I rub my hand over the scruff on my face and contemplate my answer. What I’ve done since I was eighteen is look for her. I’ve been lonely. I was running with no end in sight . . . until I found her. But I don’t think that’s what she wants to hear.
“I went to college and got a job.”
“No . . .” She stands and paces in a circle around the couch then sits on the armrest. “I mean what have you done? Did you go on a vacation, clubbing, get a tattoo?”
“Yes, yes, and yes.”
“See? Guess what I’ve done? Nothing. None of them.” She stands again and walks around to grab my hands, smiling. “Let’s go get tattoos.”
“Uhh . . . I’m not so sure that’s a good idea . . .”
“Why? I think it’s a great idea! I’ve missed out on so much, and when I was sitting there having my nails done, I realized just how much.”
Instead of the normal sadness or disappointment she usually has when talking about the last decade, she actually seems happy right now. “So something did happen at the salon?”
“No. Well, kind of. I was getting my nails done and a bunch of young girls were talking about all this cool stuff they did. I realized that I haven’t done any of it. I’m going to be thirty-one next month. I want some damn life experiences!” She jumps up and down and kisses my cheek. “Come on. You don’t have to, but I want a tattoo.”
I can’t deny her so I nod and we drive to the tattoo shop. The entire time, she can’t stop smiling. When we walk inside, every person turns to see who walked in, and she squeezes my hand a little tighter. I make sure to look at every dude in the place, and make my possession known when I wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her into me to kiss her head then step up to the counter.
I haven’t been in many tattoo shops, but this one looks like all the others. Artistic drawings on the walls, heavy metal music playing, and the buzz of tattoo guns vibrating.
A young woman with spiky bleach blond hair and more rings than I can count in her face smiles at us. “Hi. Can I help you?”
“Hey,” I answer, then wait for Mary. She’s the one getting ink, not me. I already have one I got on my arm when I was eighteen.
I nudge Mary when she still hasn’t said anything, too busy looking at all the jewelry in the counter. “Hi. Umm. I want to get a tattoo.”
“Okay. Do you know what and where?”
“Yes.”
Her response shocks me, and I raise my eyebrows at her. “You do?” I thought this was a split second decision.
“Yeah.”
She turns back to the girl and lifts her shirt up, exposing her ribs. Hell no. I grab the material and pull it back down, glancing around the room to make sure none of these fuckers saw her. “Leave your shirt down and just point to it,” I whisper.
The girl behind the counter laughs. “Don’t worry. The guys are all really professional. And trust me, a ribcage is about one of the least exciting places they look at.” She raises her eyebrows, and I laugh, my mood immediately lightening.
I can’t help the fierce possessiveness I feel, though. It’s been rooted in me since the moment I met her and has only intensified as the years went on. And now? Now, I don’t want any other man looking at her, let alone touching her soft skin.
“Do you do tattoos?” I ask.
“I do.”
“I want you doing hers.”
Mary laughs and gives me a little push. “If you’re available.”
She looks at the clock then at the appointment book. “I’ve got a couple of hours. What do you want done?”
Mary points to the spot right on her ribcage under the side of her right breast. “I want a stem of sweet peas.”
I try to hide my shock. Sweet peas are our flower.
“Cool. Do you have an image or do you want me to draw one?”
“Can you draw one? I think that’d be cool.”
“Sure. I’ll have you sign the paperwork while I get everything set up.”
I have to give my girl credit. She wanted something and she went for it. Instead of being bummed about missing out, she’s doing something. And I couldn’t be more proud of her.
We wait for about fifteen minutes before someone leads us to a room. I hold Mary’s hand and flinch every time her nails dig into my flesh. Seeing her in pain is the absolute last thing I want. If it were up to me, I’d take her away right now, but she insists she’s fine, so I have to deal with it. Over an hour later, my hand has indentations that I’m not sure will ever go away.
“Okay. All done.”
Mary hops off the chair and turns sideways in the mirror. “I love it,” she whispers. “It’s perfect. Thank you so much.”
“It looks great, babe. Just adds to your hotness.” I stand behind her and run my fingers over her pink skin, careful not to hurt her, and step back when the artist applies a bandage. I kiss Mary’s neck, and she melts into me.
“Yeah, so. I’ll just meet you guys up front.”
The door closes and I run my hand down her other side, clad in only her bra and a small towel, which I rip away and toss on the ground. “You’re so sexy. You know that, right?”
She gives a noncommittal grunt, and I grab her hair and tilt her head, allowing me access to the sensitive skin on her neck. Not giving a shit that we’re in a tattoo parlor, I kiss my way from behind her ear, down to her shoulder and back up again. “God,” I growl into her neck. “How do you always do this to me? Make me want to fuck you wherever we are. I want to sit in that chair and have you ride me.”
She sags back a bit and moans under her breath.
“Yeah. You’d like that wouldn’t you?” I squeeze her ass. “As much as I’d love nothing more than to have your tight pussy wrapped around my dick while you slide up and down until I explode inside you, I can’t risk someone else seeing you. It wouldn’t end well for them.”
She sighs deeply and turns around. “Let’s go.”
I have no choice but to follow her out. I grip the back of her jacket and give a little tug, halting her movements until she’s next to me again.
She absolutely refuses to let me pay, so I begrudgingly watch as she forks over some cash. As soon as I open the door, a wave of snow hits us.
“Oh, shit!” She jumps back and pushes me ahead of her so she can bury her head in my back.
I wrap an arm around her from behind and shuffle my feet as fast as I can to my car. After I help her get inside, I reach over her and start the car. Then I give her a kiss before I grab the snow brush from my trunk and wipe my windows off.
“How did it get so bad so fast?” she asks, when I finally get inside.
“We were in there for almost two hours and it was already started.” I shrug.
“Yeah, I guess.”
I concentrate on not sliding off the road and getting us home safely. Mary runs to the bathroom, and by the time I get in there, her jacket and shirt are already off and she’s staring at the tattoo in the mirror. She was supposed to leave the bandage on a little while longer, but apparently, she was too excited.
“Don’t you just love it?” Her fingers gently trace the green stem.
“I do. It’s beautiful.” I lean on the doorjamb.
“You know why I got this, right?”
“It’s our flower.” I sound like a little bitch, but whateve
r.
“It is.” She catches my eyes in the mirror. “Thank you for taking me.”
“You’re welcome.”
“And for everything else.”
“Really haven’t done much.”
She turns and hops up on the counter. My eyes fly to her breasts hidden beneath the black bra. I lick my lips, craving them, craving her.
Her throat clears, and when I make my way up to her face again, she’s smiling. “You helped me get my driver’s license reinstated, gave me a place to live, brought happiness back into my life, and gave me a future.” She jumps down and I straighten as she makes her way to me. Her hands land on my chest. “You love me, despite every single mistake I’ve made. I can’t help but worry, though.”
“Worry about what?” I rest my hands on her hips.
She hangs her head. “You’ll get sick of—”
I slam my mouth to hers, shutting her up. There is nothing about her I could get sick of. I back her into the sink until her ass hits the ledge then hold her face. “Shut up. I’m a grown ass man who knows what he wants. I fucking want you. Always have. No mistake you have made or will make will change that. I don’t want to hear that shit anymore. All right?”
“You can’t know that.”
Time to turn the tables. “What would make you leave me?”
She pulls her head back and grips the side of the counter. “What?”
“Right now. Are you happy with me? Do you want to be with me?”
“Of course,” she snaps.
“What is something that I could do that would make you not want to be with me?”
“I don’t know.”
“Nothing? I can do absolutely no wrong? I could beat you, and you’d stay?”
She gasps. “No. But you’d never do that.”
“Right. So give me an example. What is a mistake I could make that would cause you to leave me?”
She thinks for a moment. “If you cheated on me. I couldn’t forgive that.”
“And you know that would never fucking happen, right?”
“Well . . . yeah.”
“Would you ever cheat on me?” I love her more than the air I breathe, but cheating is an absolute no-go.
Her eyes narrow. “No.”
I growl just thinking about another man fucking her. “That’s the only thing you could do to push me away. Are you going to?”
“No.”
“See, then. Nothing you could do would make me leave you. Nothing you’ve done in the past, either. Don’t you understand that by now?”
Her shoulders slump. “Can’t you see that I don’t understand how you can still want the damaged girl you used to know? I’m trying here, Brandon. I really am. But I think it’s normal to have these doubts. Can you at least get that?”
If I step back and look at where she’s coming from, I guess I can. It only means I need to do more to prove I’m committed to her and only her for the rest of my life. To appease her, I nod my head. Her eyes lighten, and I know all she wants is to have her feelings validated.
I pick her up and carry her to the couch. “I believe you owe me a ride.”
Chapter 18
Mary
I KNOCK ON KELSEY’S door and wring my fingers together, waiting for her to answer.
“Who is it?” she yells.
“It’s me. Mary.”
The locks click and the door opens; she looks confused to see me. “Hi.”
“Hi. Umm . . .” I’m no good at this. “Brandon has a late shift tonight. I was thinking about going to a club and wanted to know if you want to go with me.” I want to do things. Experience stuff. I’d never go by myself, and since Char just had a baby, I know she won’t want to go. Kelsey is the only other person my age I know, so if she doesn’t agree, I’ll find something else.
“Oh.” Her confusion turns to happiness and she smiles. “Yeah. That would be fun. I could use a night out.”
“Really?” I ask, genuinely surprised. I expected a brush-off. This is only the second time I’ve seen her since I moved in.
After I got my tattoo and the conversation Brandon and I had in the bathroom a couple of weeks ago, I’ve felt freer than I have in years. He’s taken me to do a couple of the things on my mental list of stuff I missed out on in my twenties. We went to an outdoor movie theater and stayed up all night after. I joined his gym and took a kickboxing class, rode the subway to downtown and went shopping. And yesterday, I enrolled in college. I don’t have a major, but I’m taking an Intro to College course, just to see if it’s something I’d want to pursue.
I have a lot of money saved up and instead of keeping it hidden in socks, Brandon made me deposit it. I use that money to buy clothes, but he refuses to let me pay for food or bills. I order food and have it delivered before he gets home sometimes so I can pay for it. When shopping, I always make sure to pick something up for him, whether it’s a candy bar or a new outfit. I need to feel like I’m doing something for him.
“Yeah, really. I think it’ll be fun.”
“Awesome. Do you want to grab a bite to eat first?”
“That sounds great. I’ll finish what I’m working on and take a shower. I’ll come over at say, seven?”
I was thinking dinner at like five. But I’ll trust she knows more than me about these things. “Sure. See you then.”
I step out of the shower and run a brush through my hair. I’m not a very girly girl, so I redo my ponytail with the exception of teasing it a bit on top. I bought a new outfit the other day when I went shopping, and I eagerly rip the tags off my new items. The skinny black pants are skintight and have a bit of a sparkle to them. I purchased a pair of thigh-high gray boots and a deep purple tank top and sweater set. The tank has sequins on it and dresses up the outfit.
I apply some smoky eyeshadow and mascara, along with a little blush and lip-gloss, thankful I remembered Elizabeth’s lessons. Kelsey should be here in about ten minutes, so I call Brandon before I leave.
“Hey, babe.”
“Hi. I just wanted to say goodnight before I went out.”
“You sure you’re comfortable doing this?” The concern in his voice makes my heart flutter. He wants me to make friends and have fun but is worried something bad will happen. Frankly, I am too. But I need to do this. If girls who are twenty-one can go to a club, certainly I can as well. I told him the name of the club just to be on the safe side, too.
“Yes. I’m sure.”
“Call me if you need anything. I’m working that case, but I think it should be wrapped up tonight.”
“Okay. Stay safe.”
He laughs. “Babe, I’ve got seventeen more files to go through. Unless you’re worried about me getting a paper cut, fear not. You’re the one who needs to be safe. A hot piece of ass like you.” He curses under his breath. “I should be there; assholes are gonna be all over you.”
“Pshh. No way. I’ll stick out like a sore thumb, the old lady who can’t dance.”
“What are you wearing?”
“Black pants and a purple shirt.”
“Tight pants?”
“Yes.”
“Shoes?”
“Boots. Gray ones.”
“Short or tall?”
I finger the top, just above my knee. “Tall. Past my knee.”
He sucks in a breath and I laugh. “What are you wearing?”
He chuckles this time. “You saw me this morning. I haven’t changed.”
“Mmm. Yes.” I moan thinking about how hot he is in his work clothes. A knock at the door shakes me from my thoughts. “I’ve gotta go. Kelsey’s here.”
“Okay. Call me if you need anything. Love you.”
“I will. Love you, too.”
I open the door and motion for her to come in. “Sorry about that.” I grab my coat.
“Dang. You look hot. Brandon’s letting you go out in this?”
“Letting me?”
She raises her eyebrows. “You know what I mean.”
/> “He’s at work, so he hasn’t seen it.” I look down and tug at the fabric. “Don’t you think he’ll like it?”
“Oh, honey.” She laughs. “He’s going to like it . . . probably too much.”
I follow her out and we catch a cab to downtown. The area looks familiar to me, but I don’t remember where everything is. I’m so absorbed in taking in my surroundings that I don’t notice when the cab stops. Kelsey has to tug on my arm to get my attention.
“We’re here.”
“Sorry.”
“I thought we could go to a pizza place. Split a deep dish? We’ll need the sustenance.”
“That sounds great.”
After we’re seated in the fifties-style diner, I ask her if she grew up in Chicago.
“Yup. Did you?”
“Yeah. I’ve never lived anywhere else.”
“You guys grew up near here?”
I nod and take a sip of my water. “We did.”
“He’s a great guy.”
My hackles rise, and I sit up straighter in my seat. “I know.”
She takes in my defensive posture and laughs. “You really don’t need to worry about that with me. I have my own drama. I don’t need or want another man in my life.”
“I’m sorry.” I take a deep breath and wait until the waiter brings our pizza before finishing. “I don’t know what Brandon has told you about me.”
“Nothing. Just that you guys grew up together. Now you’re his woman.” She ends in a deep voice, mocking him.
I laugh and take a bite of my pizza. “Damn, this is good.”
“I know, right?”
Thankfully, the rest of the meal goes smoothly. I feel like an idiot for getting so defensive, but at the same time, I just got him back. If I need to fight for him, I will.
“You ready to get your dance on?” Kelsey asks me as we walk in the crowded club with our arms linked together.
“I don’t know about that.” I haven’t danced since my senior year in high school at the prom. With Brandon. Twelve years ago.
“How about some liquid courage?”
“Yes!”
* * *
“Hands off, asshole.” I push another drunk guy away and roll my eyes.
