“Hey, gorgeous,” Cam greets me as he walks into the kitchen.
“Hey,you, gorgeous,” I reply, licking frosting off my fingertip as my eyes trail over all six and a half feet of his bare skin.
When we first moved in together, I thought Cam just loved walking around shirtless. Turns out I was wrong.The man loves to be naked.Shirtless, with sweatpants on, was a courtesy for me when I was his roommate and fake girlfriend. Now that I’m hisrealgirlfriend, he rarely bothers with pants—usually just boxer briefs, and sometimes—like right now—not even those.
I admire the muscular cut of his ass as he walks past me.Wait. Is that...? There’s black ink on it that I’ve never seen before.
“Did you get a new ass tattoo?” I ask, stepping closer for a better look.
“What do you mean?” he asks, spinning around like a dog chasing its tail.
“Stop being ridiculous,” I laugh, pressing a hand to his hip to still him. “You totally did. Right here,” I tap his ass cheek where there’s definitely a new tattoo—high up, just a few inches away from his pinup tattoo.
“Oh, that?” he says, his blue-green eyes lighting up, and a grin spreading wide across his face as he looks over his shoulder at me. “I’d almost forgotten. What do you think of it?”
The tattoo is still fresh, the black lettering large and swooping in script.It looks like it says—but that can’t be—would he? Does he? What else could it say,though? He’s really—he wants to—oh my word, I’m tearing up over a damn ass tattoo.After a few stunned moments, I finally admit it to myself. It really says what I’d hoped it would.
Marry me, sunshine?
My voice barely escapes, a stunned giggle accompanying my question. “Are you proposing to me with an ass tattoo?”
He turns around and drops to one knee. “I am. Didn’t want anyone else to see it and think it was for them.” His smile turns shy as he says, “Marry me, sunshine?”
I nod, tears welling up as I repeatedly nod, and finally, I find my voice. “Yes.” I fall into his arms, and we tumble to the kitchen floor, laughing and kissing. He’s stark naked, and I’m wearing an apron splattered with frosting.It’s perfect.
“There’s a ring, too,” he says, squeezing my hand and pulling it to his chest. “But I don’t have it on me.”
“I’d hope not,” I laugh.
Cam
Ten years later, a bowling alley –Palm Springs, California
The"Things I've Never Done"lists have become a family tradition. Sadie has one. I have one. We have a shared one, one for the whole family, and the kids even have their own. There are only two holdouts left from Sadie’s original list, and she’sso damn closeto crossing one of them off.
She’s one of the best bowlers in our league—a hell of a lot better than I am. Six months ago, she even bowled a 298.
We’ve been here a few times before in the last couple of years—only one strike to go—and every time, the pressure has been immense. I’ve tried offering encouraging words, standing by her side, even trying to quiet the alley, but nothing has helped.
Everyone knows what’s happening, and she’s gathered a crowd. The thing is—part of succeeding at thisispulling it off under pressure.
My heart races as she lines it up, swings the ball, and sends it down the lane. The two seconds it takes to reach the pins feel like an eternity, but it looksgood.It looks like she’s got it.
The ball hits, and all ten pins go flying.
My girl spins around, throwing her hands triumphantly in the air and screaming, “I did it!”
I rush to her and lift her up in a tight hug. “So fucking proud of you,” I whisper before setting her down so she can soak up the congratulations flooding in from everyone around us.
Hours later, when the celebrating has settled and we’re walking to our car, I squeeze her hand and say, “Now, if you’ll just let me cross ‘bake a perfect cookie’ off, your original list will be finished.”
“Maybe someday,” she giggles.
