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“You two are gonna have to be careful in bed for a bit,” Moose says.
I roll my eyes, but then my dad’s there with his phone, wedging himself between us and snapping a photo.
“Oh yeah, I need my photo too.” I grab my phone and snap a photo of Van’s newest addition to his tattoo collection, proud of the work I did at covering up his scar. It feels good to cover something that only brought bad memories with what I hope only brings him happy ones now.
“Every time I look at it, I’ll always think of you.” Van kisses me again.
“Let’s get it covered.”
He lies back on the table, and I put the ointment and plastic wrap on it. When we’re finishing up, the door to the shop opens and my mom walks in with a big chocolate cake. Easton and Lance are with her, along with a good portion of my huge family.
“Congratulations!” My mom sets the cake on the counter where people pay in the lobby area and slides through the half door. “My baby, a tattoo artist,” she says, shaking her head.
Everyone congratulates me, and we chat and eat cake for a while. Halfway through the party, I see Van talking to my uncles and cousin. They’re laughing, having a great time, and warmth spreads through my chest. He’s one of us now, and hopefully he’ll never feel alone in this world again. The Baileys have taken him in as one of our own.
Later on, we take the rest of the chocolate cake home, but this time I smear the icing up and down his cock, bringing him to the edge with my mouth as his hands grip my hair. Life doesn’t get any better than this. Turns out you can have your dessert and eat it too.
* * *
Four days later…
* * *
I’m sitting in the taxi in New York on our way to meet Lance. Van’s hand is on my thigh, and he keeps running circles with his fingers and then running his palm up and down. I finally put my hand on his to stop him.
He looks at me quizzically and I tilt my head. Our nonverbal way of saying “What” and “You know what.”
I can’t wait until the damn tattoo is healed so we can go crazy again. We’ve had to be creative with our positions and keep things pretty tame.
We stop at a light outside a church where a bride and groom are walking out as people blow bubbles toward them. They look so happy and I silently wish them happiness for the rest of their lives together.
He leans over. “Do you want all that when we get married?”
“I don’t know. I had it once, but I can’t imagine my family not being there either and there’s so many of us it’s hard to travel.”
He nods. “Yeah, that’s true. But we could just have a small wedding on the grounds of the cabin.”
I took Van to my great-grandma’s cabin, and he fell in love with it. I had to explain to him that it’s not really ours and I think he was disappointed. Calista wants it passed to each cousin. In fact, she told me I have to figure out who the next person is to get it now that I’ve found love. Seems she’s really taking on Great-Grandma Dori’s mission as her own with our generation.
“Maybe we could ask,” he says.
I nod and hold up my left hand. “We’re missing a key item.”
“Don’t you worry about that.” I look at him long and hard because he’s got something up his sleeve. I can tell.
I wave myself with my hand. “It’s getting hot in here.”
I can’t stand it when taxi drivers don’t use the air conditioning. I get that it’s unusually hot right now for New York, but come on, my makeup is dripping down my face.
“We were supposed to be there like fifteen minutes ago,” I say.
Van shrugs. I wonder how he can be so high-strung sometimes but mellow other times.
We sit in traffic for another fifteen minutes when my phone vibrates in the small purse I have on my lap.
* * *
Lance: Stop fucking and get your ass to the restaurant.
