A few minutes later, Stephan comes back with a tray full of things needed for inking, I assume.
“What do you want?” he sits in his chair and asks gruffly, still grouchy from us tricking him.
“Surprise me.” I give him my best megawatt smile I know he can’t resist. If he learned I say ‘yes’ every time he gives me a bad-boy smile, I totally figured out his vice.
His face brightens as he pats the table in front of him. “C’mere.”
“And this is where I leave you to it. Remember,” Cherry lifts her pointer finger in the air in a warning while she walks outside, “the walls are thin.”
“Ready?” he asks me with a boyish smile. His face is free of worries, and now I see why Cherry wanted him to ink again—it’s his place of happiness. He might not notice, but he transforms into real Stephan. Archie’s mask of a tough guy drops, and he is just Stephan. I think I’ll be walking with ninety-nine percent of my body covered in ink if it would put that happy smile on his face.
“I am.” I prop myself on the table, lie on my stomach, and pull my pants down.
“You weren’t joking about the spot, huh.”
“Nope.” I accept the pillow he passes me and put it under my face. “Told you I want it on my ass.”
A few painful hours later, when he starts cleaning the tattoo, I hop off the table and walk to the mirror. When I see what he’s done, my eyes go all watery, and a tear slips down my cheek.
“It’s perfect,” I whisper.
“I know,” he says with a proud smile in his voice.
Here is this arrogant man that charmed everyone.
Myself included.
A tattoo of a tiny, black panther gently touching a tiny squirrel with its paw looks back at me from the mirror. The details are amazing, considering the piece is small by itself. He truly has amazing talent.
On the drive back home, Stephan holds my hand the whole time. It’s cute and adorable. I bet people who see his mask—Archie—wouldn’t expect him to be so sweet, but he is. So sweet and so very gentle.
“What was that about?” he asks, referring to our hug. I think.
“Nothing. Just two women bonding.”
“With Cherry?” He sends me a quizzical look. “I love Cherry. Adore her. She is my family. But she’s a total bitch, and she doesn’t like anyone. I haven’t seen her bonding with someone right off the bat. What did you promise her? Our firstborn?”
I chuckle, “She’s cool.”
He sends me another quizzical look and keeps driving. He doesn’t know the extent of things she does for him, and I’ll make sure she gets noticed more, because I think she’s been that person who’d been holding him together before me.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
ARCHIE
To say things begin moving fast would be a major understatement. And to say that I’m happy with that would be the same. I’m fucking ecstatic. And very scared that one day I’ll wake up and realize that all these positive feelings and fullness in my life have been a dream.
Every day since she’s come here, my head is brighter in the mornings, and my heart lighter every time it beats. I like to watch her sleep, like I’m doing right now. Her mouth is always ajar, and she makes cute noises while she sleeps. I tried telling her about that yesterday, but her nose scrunched while she tried to prove me wrong, her eyes full of horror as if making sounds at night is something shameful. It’s not, and she’s adorable.
This house feels more like a home than just the giant monstrosity it was before. All she did was throw her socks everywhere, and chip the new cup we bought, and the house suddenly became cozy. We go to some department store and buy cheap stuff that we definitely don’t need. She puts it everywhere, and the level of coziness increases before my very own eyes. She replaced my designer pillows with some bright plush ones, adds throw blankets to every chair, and bought fake house plants. She wanted the real deal, but I convinced her that the poor plants would die when I’m out of town. Even with everything out of place, it all works somehow. My designer, Josie, would have a stroke if she saw the house right now, but it’s never been cozier for me.
Maybe it’s her presence and not just the little things I notice everywhere now. Or maybe it’s both. Regardless, I’m in a state of constant terror every single minute of my life, terrified that it will be ripped away from me because someone out there will remember that I don’t deserve any of it.
She stirs and stretches her arm out, looking for me even in her sleep. I pull her into me and make her my small spoon. My dick stirs too, of course. How could it not when her plump, warm ass is pressing against it. I bury my nose into her hair and breathe her in. Her scent became so familiar and so calming. I’d be an idiot if I thought I could be cured from all the shit that’s been happening in my head in a week. The truth about the operation and my involvement in it hit hard, but it also relieved some of the guilt. Only some of it—I’m still here and they’re still not. But it’s easier to breathe now. I can say their names without reaching for a bottle and maybe, one day, I will be courageous enough to talk to their families.
Leila’s been here for a week, and I feel like it’s been a year. I don’t want her to ever leave my side. Kenneth called me yesterday, laughing that she hijacked his truck and asking if I’mever planning on returning his car and his sister. I told him no. He called me a motherfucker and asked to take care of them both because it took him a hot minute to save up enough to get the truck, so he’s expecting it back, but I could keep the sister though—she’s for free. I know it’s a joke because he loves her to death, but his approval means more than I care to admit.
I know that it would be selfish to keep her all to myself—she’s young and she hasn’t seen the world yet. But she sure as fuck won’t see any other dick—I’ll make sure she’s so satisfied she can’t even think of sex. Especially, with someone other than me.
