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Tate didn’t respond, but I felt his fingers stroking over the tattoo on my chest. His tattoo.
“There’s no rush, Tate. You can call her whenever you’re ready. And if you’re never ready, that’s okay too.”
Another round of silence and then Tate lifted up on his elbow and kissed me. “I’m ready,” he whispered. I nodded and reached for my phone. I pulled up the number from my call list, but didn’t hit the dial button. Instead, I handed it to him.
“I love you, Tate.”
A broad smile spread across Tate’s mouth and he leaned in to kiss me again. “I love you, Michael. Forever and ever.”
He glanced down at the phone, took a deep breath and then hit dial. When I shifted so I could see his reactions better, he put his hand on my chest and said, “Stay with me?”
I ran my fingers through his hair and whispered, “Forever and ever.”
And when I heard a woman’s voice on the phone answer, I drew Tate against me just as Tate said, “Um, hi, this is Tate.”
I dropped a kiss to his head when I heard crying on other end of the phone and I held him tight when his own tears started to fall.
The End
