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“I’m all out of guesses.” I place a dish under each end of the couch so Raven and Amber don’t fight over food.

“Have I told you today how much I love you?” Mav asks.

“I love you more.” Hugging his neck, I flop into his lap.

“This torture proves my love. I had to do something forever…” he trails off.

“Did it require liquid courage?” I ask, and the only thing that makes sense is a tattoo.

“You get me.” Mav raises his arm over his head as if I’ll peek before he’s ready. “This is my you’re-my-forever and I-was-a-dick ink.” His hazel eyes lock on mine, and I kiss him. “I’ll never stop loving you, especially knowing how much it hurts to get tattooed on the inside of your wrist. You did that when I was an asshole.” His heavy head tips forward.

“Will you show me?” The suspense is driving me mad.

“Voilà.” Mav rips off the gauze, and I tear up, taking in the details of an in-flight lark with large white angel wings and a halo. “It’s the best parts of you. My Angel and my Lark. I looked it up, and larks symbolize new beginnings, joy, and freedom.”

“It’s gorgeous,” I choke out, the sentiment overwhelming me. It’s our past, present, and future all in a tattoo. They unbelievably match when I hold my ink next to his. My horse on the waves could be running next to his flying lark. It’s incredible.

“Emmet did it. I asked him not to tell you. Did he tell you?” he asks, and I shake my head.

“The guys at Unframed Art are amazing. We’re thinking of getting a team tattoo,” King says, and Brant groans, throwing his forearm over his face.

Mav shakes his head at my questioning glance. “Let’s eat before it’s ice cold.” I hand out plates from the to-go box, and everyone serves themselves except Brant. Mav and I settle on the couch, and King and O’Keefe each sit in a club chair. Brant doesn’t move from the floor even though the double recliner is unoccupied.

We eat in silence until my phone buzzes and the doorbell rings. “Shit, I forgot Lo.” I jump up, carefully close the door, and sprint downstairs.

My apology starts before my front door is open. “I’m so sorry. The twins were in rare form, and they challenged us to a dance-off, and something is going on with Brant because he needs kitten time but won’t talk, and I forgot to text you. The guys also brought dinner.” I drag him up the stairs as I ramble. “Don’t let the fur babies escape.” I crack the living room door open and enter sideways to catch a cat if necessary.

“I only heard half of what you said.” Lo swings the door open, and Amber scampers out from the couch, beelining for the door.

I scoop her in one hand and slam the door with the other. “Usually, Raven is the first to escape.”

Lo holds up his bag. “I’ve got Top Notch Noodles if anyone is interested.”

“Pick me.” Brant sits up, and Lo bypasses the love seat to cross the room and sit on the floor by him.

We eat and Mav shows Lo his tattoo while King and O’Keefe give us the tea on how Mav did shots to calm himself and numb the pain.

I gather the paper plates and pack up the food when everyone is done. I’m too lazy to take them downstairs, so I set them high on a bookshelf, hopefully out of the kittens’ reach.

They also ate dinner and sniffed every body part their little noses could reach. King tries to cuddle them, but they want to explore. After a while, Raven lies across Brant’s throat, and Amber curls up over his heart. He’s motionless on the floor with his forearm once again covering his eyes as they purr on top of him.

“Cat therapy,” I whisper to Mav.

“I’m never leaving or stealing your cats. You pick,” Brant says from under his arm.

The guys give each other worried glances, and I make a joke. “FYI, you’re taking my babies over my cold, dead body.” When he doesn’t respond, I offer, “Lo and I can powder our faces if you need hockey bro and kitten time.”

“I’m fine,” Brant says.

“You’re not,” King huffs.

“But we won’t force you to talk.” O’Keefe sternly eyes his boyfriend.

“The trade deadline is next week,” Brant says, and everyone glances around with questioning looks.

“So?” King prompts.

“I was told in person by a very reliable source that my trade to this team was a mistake.” Brant scratches the kittens’ heads. “And I pissed off the person in charge of my fate.”