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I get off the bed and move around her to pull the blanket back, exposing the sheets. She all but dives beneath it and rubs her cheek over my pillow like a kitten trying to get comfortable. My chest grows tight at the sight.
“Lay with me,” she says, watching me watch her.
“Are you sure?”
She nods and pats the mattress, eyes fluttering shut. “We should talk.”
“We can talk when you aren’t half-asleep.”
“Just get over here, Sparrow. Maybe I want to spend my morning cuddling my husband.”
“It’s too soon to make jokes about that,” I mutter but slide in beside her anyway.
She sighs when I squeeze onto the double bed before tossing her leg over mine and folding her hands beneath her chin. I’m stiff as that warm, smooth leg of hers moves up and down along my shin, but she doesn’t say anything about it.
“It wasn’t a joke. Not completely. I get clingy when I’m hungover.”
I fold my arms across my chest and nod. “Alright.”
“My family is going to be really upset when they find out,” she breathes.
“Mine too.”
“We need to keep it a secret for now. At least until we find a way to get it taken care of.”
“You want an annulment?” I look at her and catch her already watching me curiously beneath blonde lashes. Turning onto my side, I trap her leg between mine and push up on my elbow. “I can call my father’s lawyer and see if he knows of anyone who specializes in this kind of thing.”
“I think that would be best. At least then it might not be such a big deal when everyone finds out. Just a drunken mistake we took care of like adults.”
The term “mistake” sounds wrong, almost dirty, but I shove that thought away.
“We still have a lot of time left on the trip. If we’re lucky, we might be able to get it figured out before we get back.”
“What do we do about these?” She lifts her hand and wiggles her ring finger. “Adding our names seems like something you would ask for, you big softie.”
I snort a laugh. “Big softie?”
“Your heart is the size of a dinner plate; I just know it. You’ve gotta have a sentimental side.”
“I can. Depending on the situation.”
She gives me a sleepy smile and shifts closer, her face just inches from my shoulder. I release a tight breath when she gets the nerve to lift her head, setting her cheek over my ribs. She smells like mint toothpaste and lingering perfume. Flowers and mint shouldn’t go together, but when it comes to her, they do.
“At least you’ll never forget this. Forget me. Tattoos are permanent.” She whispers the words, but they still rattle me inside.
I have a feeling every moment spent with Adalyn will be permanently engrained in my memory. Tattoo or no tattoo.
Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I unclasp my hands and move an arm over her, gently draping it over her back. She exhales a heavy breath and nuzzles further into my T-shirt.
I tear my eyes off her. “I won’t need a tattoo to remember everything about you, Adalyn.”
* * *
Three days later,I’m pulling Adalyn’s luggage into the elevator at our hotel in Paris while she prepares to FaceTime her parents. Somehow, she’s managed to hold them off for over a week, but they’ve become overly—and understandably—insistent.
The elevator doors have just shut us in when she says, “For the love of God, please don’t wave at them when we get in the room. There’s no way we could explain the tattoos if you did.”
“No waving. Got it.”
