What About Now (Everlasting Ink #4)

Chapter 6

CHAPTER

SIX

Maddox

Stepping into the shop with a bag of fast food in my hand feels different. I’ve done this exact thing more times than I can count, but this time, I’m a married man. A married man that ignores the two ladies in the waiting room making eyes at me. I pretend like I don’t see them. I’m not interested.

Just like that.

Overnight, my world has changed, and I’m embracing it. “Hey,” I greet Drake, who is working at the front desk today. “I still have a two o’clock, right?” I ask.

He glances down at the computer. “Still on the books. No calls yet, and they’re not here.”

We don’t have no-shows often, but we do require a deposit to schedule, and if they are a no-show, that deposit is nonrefundable. It helps offset the loss of income. However, we all have waiting lists, and our number of walk-ins grows every day. Some more than others. Today, though, I’m good with my client not showing up. That means I get to go home to my wife earlier than expected.

“There he is!” Lachlan says, stepping out of his office, following a client to the front desk to check out. He shakes his client's hand and follows me into my office. “How’s married life?” he asks, amusement in his tone.

“Fucking fantastic.” I grin as I pull food out of the bag.

“And then there was one.” He laughs.

I shrug. “How’s your day been?”

“Fine as frog hair. That was my last client of the day. My afternoon rescheduled.”

“You taking walk-ins?” I ask, biting into my burger.

“I might. Drake said there were two out in the waiting room. What about you?”

“My two o’clock isn’t here yet. If they don’t show, I’m going back home. Which reminds me, I’m going to need a ride to my place.”

“Your place or Brogan’s?”

“Mine. I packed up my things today to move in, but left my truck parked in the garage. I didn’t have time to unload it, and I didn’t want it sitting outside in the weather. Brogan offered to drive it home for me, but I know she’d be trying to unload it all for me, and I don’t want her lifting all those heavy-ass boxes. It’s mostly clothes, but still.”

“You called her place home.”

“That’s where she is. That’s home.”

“Damn, you’ve got it bad, huh?”

“I’ve wanted her for a long time, Lach. I thought it would complicate things between our group with Forrest and Briar getting married, but when I woke up next to her… when I found out she was my wife, well, I changed my mind. She’s already mine, so I convinced her that we give this a shot.”

“Yeah? You’re going for it.”

I nod. “With everything I got.”

“Well, if you’re anything like the first three, I’m certain you’ll come out with a win.”

“Just her. Win or lose, I just want her. I know we can make this work.”

“Make what work?” Roman asks from the doorway of my office.

“My marriage.”

Roman nods. “I’m an old pro. Hit me up if you need any advice.”

“Who needs advice?” Legend asks, stepping into the room next to Roman.

Before I can answer, Forrest joins in. “What is this? A meeting without me?”

“What are you doing here?” I ask him. “You’re supposed to be at home with your wife and daughters.”

Forrest grins. “My girls are just fine, thank you very much. I ran out to grab everything we need to make homemade potato soup because Briar’s been craving it and thought I’d stop in to see how everything’s going.”

“Is she pregnant?” Roman asks.

“Nah, but if she were, that would be fucking amazing.” Forrest’s smile grows, thinking about expanding their family.

“Well, you’re just in time. I was telling Maddox if he needs any marriage advice to come see me.” Roman fills him and Legend in on our conversation.

“Me too,” Legend speaks up.

“I’m new at this,” Forrest admits, “but I’m here if you need to talk.”

“Thanks.” I nod, making eye contact with my four best friends. “We’re giving this a shot. I have six months to make her fall in love with me.”

“Meh, you won’t need six weeks.” Legend waves his hand in the air.

“Right? It’s obvious there’s chemistry,” Roman agrees.

“Love me. I need to make her fall in love with me.”

“Just be you, Mad. Brogan is a lot like Briar. They value trust over everything, and it takes a good pair of hiking boots and a lot of fucking resilience to scale that mountain, but when you do, I promise you that you’ll have no regrets,” Forrest says.

“Thanks, man.”

“Hey, Maddox, your client just canceled. Car trouble. I worked him back in, but it’s not for a few months from now. He was fine with that. Do you want walk-ins today?” Drake asks, stepping into the now crowded room.

“No. I’m going home to my wife.”

Drake’s eyes widen, and I laugh. “I guess these jokers didn’t tell you that Forrest wasn’t the only one who got married over the weekend.”

“They did not. Who’s the lucky girl?” Drake asks.

“Brogan.” I’m smiling just from saying her name, but I can’t seem to help myself.

“No shit. A double wedding to twin sisters?”

“Not exactly, but yeah, two weddings, and twin sisters.” I raise my hand and wiggle my ring finger, showing him the proof. This ring already feels like it’s a part of me, as if I’ve been wearing it for years.

“I didn’t even know you and Brogan were dating,” Drake comments.

“Well, now, we’re married.” I don’t bother to tell him we weren’t. He’ll figure it out, and if not, that’s fine too. She’s my wife, and she’s going to stay my wife, so how we came to be married is a non-issue at this stage in the game.

“I better get these groceries home.”

“Hey, man, you mind dropping by my place?” I ask Forrest. “My truck is loaded with my things and in the garage. I ran out of time to take it home before I had to come in today.”

“Sure. You ready now?”

“Yep.” I gather my trash from the food I inhaled and toss it into the can. “We’re out,” I tell my friends.

“Enjoy the honeymoon, fellas!” Roman calls after us.

“Don’t want to hear about yours!” Forrest calls back to Roman, making us all laugh.

“You can’t push her too hard,” Forrest says once we’re in his truck.

“I know. But I can fight for both of us while she’s taking the time to get caught up to where I am with this.”

“They’re a lot alike, and therapy has helped, but there are still old scars that will take some time to heal.”

“I know.”

“My wife is happy about this union of yours. She thinks you’ll be good for Brogan.”

His words take root in my mind, and I let them wash over me. Her sister thinks I’m good for her. The fact of the matter is that Brogan is good for me too. I feel lighter than I have in years, just knowing that as soon as I get into my truck, I’m going home to her. I’ve never had someone to come home to, and damn, it’s a feeling like nothing else.

“She’s good for me,” I finally answer as he pulls his truck into the driveway.

“Happy for you, man.”

“You too. Tell the girls, all three of them, I said hello.”

“You and Brogan should come to dinner one night. My wife would love to see her sister, and you too.”

“We’ll do that. Let me talk to my wife, and I’ll let you know.”

He chuckles. “You think we’ll ever get tired of saying it?”

“Not if Roman and Legend are our examples. Thanks for the lift, man.”

“Anytime.”

Hopping out of the truck, I don’t even bother going into the house. I head straight for the detached garage, entering through the side entry door and start my truck. I sit inside and shiver until it’s warm, and pull out, hit the garage door opener, and head toward home.

When I get halfway home, I know I need to turn around. I need to tell my parents I’m married, and that’s a conversation we need to have face-to-face. Fifteen minutes later, I’m pulling into their driveway. I keep the truck running because I don’t plan to stay long. My wife is waiting for me, and I’m anxious to get home to her.

“Mom! Dad!” I call out as I step through the door. I don’t bother knocking because my parents have told me more times than I can count that I don’t need to—that this will always be my home.

“In the kitchen!” Dad calls back.

I stride down the hall and step into the kitchen to see Mom sitting at the island while Dad slices a loaf of homemade bread. “Hey.” I hug my mom and kiss her cheek.

“What brings you here?” she asks, returning my hug.

“Oh, you know, I thought I should drop in to tell you that I got married.”

Dad stops what he’s doing and his eyes find mine. “For real?”

I nod. “Yeah, she’s incredible.”

“We didn’t even know you were dating anyone,” Mom says.

“I wasn’t.” I go on to tell her how I’ve been interested in Brogan for months and why I never took my shot.

“You always take the shot, son,” Dad tells me after I’ve explained my current situation.

“I know, and the one time I didn’t, I regretted it. I learned from that mistake.”

“How does she feel about all of this? Your wife, Brogan, right?” Mom clarifies.

“Yeah, Brogan,” I say, not holding back the smile just saying her name brings to my face. “She’s worried I’ll change my mind. She has a past that’s shaped her feelings. She wants this to work.”

Mom nods. “When do we get to meet her?”

“Soon, but I’m going to leave that up to her. I’m going to give her some time before I bring it up. I need to get going. She’s at home waiting for me.”

“And where is home?” Dad asks.

“Wherever she is,” I answer automatically.

“Good answer, son. Give your wife our best, and let her know we can’t wait to meet her, but she can take all the time she needs.”

“It’s poetic, really,” Mom says. “We met and fell in love quickly. You grew up hearing our love story; it’s only natural you’d have one similar.”

Love.

“Love you, Mom.”

“Love you too.”

“Hey!” Dad pretends to pout.

“Love you too, old man.” I wave, and then I’m rushing out the door. Rushing home to my wife.

At the front door with a bouquet of flowers in hand, I hesitate. This is my home now, but am I supposed to knock? Deciding to just walk on in, I turn the handle and call out, “Honey, I’m home!” Kicking off my shoes, I go in search of my wife.

I find her in the living room curled up with a blanket, watching TV. “Hey. You’re back early.”

“Yeah, my client canceled, so I stopped by my parents’ and then came straight home.” I sit next to her on the couch and lean in to kiss her cheek. “These are for you.”

“What? You bought me flowers?”

“I did.”

“Why?” She glances from the flowers in my hands back to me.

“Can a husband not buy flowers for his wife?” I ask, tilting my head to the side. I study her and watch as tears well in her eyes. This was meant to be a good surprise, not one to cause her tears.

“I don’t know,” she answers. “My dad, he was only with my mom, and she passed away when we were babies.”

My fucking chest cracks, seeing the sadness and hearing her talk about all that she’s lost. “Well, life is what we make it. I’ve never been a husband before, but I wanted to bring my wife flowers. Not because I want something or need to apologize. I just wanted to make you smile.”

She flashes me a watery grin and reaches for the bouquet. She smells them before replying softly, “Thank you, Maddox.”

“You’re welcome. Let me put them in water for you, and then I’ll start packing all of my things in.”

“I can do it.”

“Finish your movie,” I tell her.

“It’s a rerun of a Christmas movie. I’ve already seen it.” She tosses the cover off her lap, and stands, making her way to the kitchen. I follow her and watch as she pulls open the cabinet doors and searches. “I don’t know if I have something to put them in.” She rummages some more and comes up with a plastic pitcher. “This will have to do.”

“I’ll do better next time,” I tell her. I’m already kicking myself in the ass for not buying the huge bouquet with the vase. I didn’t even think about her needing one.

“There,” she says, stepping back to survey her work. “Thank you, Maddox. They’re beautiful, and I’ll always remember the first time I ever got flowers.” She pulls her phone out of her pocket and snaps a picture.

“Perfect.” I wink.

“You went to see your parents?”

“Yeah, I thought I should tell them in person that I got married.”

“How did that go?” she asks. I can hear the worry in her voice.

“Good.” I nod. “They trust me, and I told them how amazing you are. They can’t wait to meet you.”

“Can we maybe give it a little more time?”

“Absolutely.” I smile, letting her know I mean what I say. She can take all the time she needs. Sure, my parents are eager to meet her, but I explained our situation and told them we needed some time. I knew Brogan wasn’t ready yet. “I’m going to go grab some boxes.” I need to step away before I grab her and haul her off to our room to do things I know she’s not ready for. Something about knowing that I’m the first man to treat this woman like the queen she is lights a fire inside my soul. I want all of her firsts, everything she’s never had or experienced. I want her to share all of them with me.

“Let me get my shoes on.”

“Why don’t you just stand by the door and hold it open for me? That way, we’re not letting all of the heat out. I don’t have too many and it’s cold as hell outside.”

“I have a coat and boots.” She laughs.

“Yeah, but you’re all warm and snuggly in here. Just watch for me and open the door.” I place a kiss on her temple, move back to the front door to slide into my shoes, and head outside to grab my things.

Thirty minutes later, my hands are like ice cubes, even with my gloves. My cheeks are red, my lips feel chapped, and my ears are numb, but all of my things are in the house.

“So, I cleaned out a couple of drawers for you and some space in the closet. I assumed you didn’t want to take Briar’s old room?” She laughs nervously.

“Nah, not unless you plan on moving in there with me.”

“Come on back. I’ll show you.” She turns to move down the hall, and I follow her with a box in my hands. “That dresser. I gave you the left-side three drawers, and then the left side of the closet too.”

“What did you do with all of your things?”

“I was long overdue for a closet clean out.”

“Fair enough. I’ll get this unpacked and we can talk about what we’re going to make for dinner.”

“Oh, I can handle dinner.”

“Brogan, this is a partnership. I don’t expect you to do all the cooking and cleaning. Just go relax and we’ll figure it out together. You’re not my maid. You’re my wife.”

“Together.” She nods and leaves the room.

I get busy unpacking the first two boxes when she appears with another in her arms. “I’m helping so shush it,” she says, before I can tell her she doesn’t need to help me. It’s not because I don’t want her in here with me or that I have anything to hide. I don’t want her to think that she has to help me.

“How was the rest of your day?” I ask, as we work to fold and hang up clothes.

“Good. I came home and did some cleaning, as you know, and had only been sitting for maybe ten minutes when you got here.”

“You went through your clothes fast.”

“Yeah, it’s easy. If I have not worn it in ages, and have no desire to, it went to the donate pile.”

I hold up a shirt that fits that description perfectly. “Where is this donate pile?” I ask, wadding up the shirt.

She points to the corner of the room where three large clothes baskets sit filled to the brim. I toss my shirt into one of the baskets and keep working. Together, we make quick work of getting me moved in, and the donate pile grows by another full basket.

“Thank you,” I say, pulling her into my arms, and hugging her tightly. “Now, let’s eat. I’ve worked up an appetite.” Releasing her from my hold, I lace my fingers with hers and lead us to the kitchen. “What sounds good to you?” I ask her.

“Honestly, tuna casserole. I’ve been craving it. Do you eat tuna?”

“Yep. I’m not a picky eater. I’ve never made it, so tell me what I need to do.”

“I can make it.”

“You can, and we can also make it together. Teach me your ways.” I bow to her, making her laugh.

“Okay, I’ll grab the ingredients. We need a baking dish and a mixing bowl. Both are in those cabinets.” She points to the lower cabinets next to the stove as she makes her way to the other side of the kitchen to grab the ingredients.

“What now?”

“Well, we open and drain the tuna, which is the worst part, but this is so good.”

“I can handle that.” I grab the two cans of tuna and get to work.

“Now dump them in the bowl, and I usually rinse the can out with soapy water so it’s not stinking up the entire house for days.”

“Good thinking.” I do as she suggests, and then toss the cans. She’s already got a mixture of the rest of the ingredients going into the bowl.

“What now?”

She instructs me, and we work in tandem to make dinner. “How long should I set the timer for?” I ask, sliding the casserole dish into the oven.

“Twenty minutes.”

“Great. I’ll wash up these dishes while it cooks. Go finish your movie.”

“Maddox”—she shakes her head—“it was one I’ve seen before.”

“Fine, pick one out for us to watch after dinner.”

“You want to watch a movie with me?”

“I do.”

“And you’re letting me choose?”

“I am. Why is that so surprising?”

“Aren’t men supposed to command the remote?”

I shrug. “Not me. I don’t give a single fuck what’s playing on that screen as long as I’m snuggled up with you.”

“You’ve been reading your swoon manual again, I see.” She smiles, and turns on her heel, heading to the living room.

“There is no manual!” I call after her.

“I call bullshit, Lanigan. There is no man on this planet with lines that smooth all on his own.”

I chuckle to myself as I take care of the dishes and wipe down the counter. I have just enough time to pour us both a glass of sweet tea and carry them to the living room when the timer goes off.

“I’ll be right back with our plates.”

“I can make mine.”

“Let me take care of you, Brogan.” I see indecision on her face, but she eventually nods and settles back onto the couch. Dipping out two helpings of dinner, I grab two forks, some napkins, and make my way back to her.

“Thank you.”

“This is so good,” I say, after taking my first bite. She beams at me, and that’s how we eat the first meal we cooked together as husband and wife.

“I’ll take care of these,” she says, taking my empty bowl out of my hands. “Do you want more?”

“No, I’m stuffed. Did you see how full my bowl was?”

“Let me clean up and I’ll be in for the movie.”

“I’m going to grab a quick shower.” I’m all sweaty from lifting those boxes. I rush through my shower because I have a cuddle movie date with my wife.

I find her in the living room, with the remote in hand, and both of our glasses of tea refilled.

“Ready?”

“Not yet.” I take a seat on the opposite end of the couch. “Come here.” She raises her brow in question, but does as I ask, and moves closer. I pull her into my arms, and drape the blanket over her lap. “Now I’m ready.”

I don’t know what I expected, but it’s not her relaxing into me and starting the movie. If this is what the next fifty or so years are going to be like, I hope time drags so I can enjoy every second with her.