Seven Weeks Later
I grinned at my new ink, proud to finally have my brand and beyond excited to show it off to Rex. I’d wanted to do this on my own so that, A, it came as a surprise, and B, he could look after Sommer.
A girl needed a break every now and then.
“I don’t know why you wanted it there,” Giulia mused, staring at my chest in a manner that would have been creepy if she hadn’t already seen my tits before.
Hey, we nursed together, and she was the only reason I hadn’t given up on breastfeeding Sommer after I’d nearly lost my shit when she refused to latch. Nothing funky.
“Why wouldn’t I want it there?”
“You know they say it’s the new tramp stamp, don’t you?”
“I’ve never been a tramp in my life, and even if I were, I think that’s very sexist of you to say, Giulia.”
She sniffed. “I’m not the one who goes into fancy courtrooms.” She grabbed the neckline of her shirt, jerked it down. “Matching ink, baby.”
I laughed at the sight of one of Indy’s mandalas right between her tits, just low enough that a bra would cover it. “And here was me thinking you’d turned into a bitch.”
“I didn’t turn into anything.” She winked at me. “I was born that way.”
Indy snorted. “Since when would a fancy pants lawyer go into a courtroom with her tits out?”
Giulia mused, “You have a point. You’ll just have to contain yourself, Rach.”
Laughing, I shook my head at the pair of them.
Indy gave me the aftercare instructions, and once I settled my bill, I stared at the certificate and the photos on the wall of her primetime feature that had made her famous and had put the tattoo shop on the map.
“I’m grateful you could fit me in.”
“Her schedule’s rammed solid,” Giulia said proudly. “We even have some crazy asses flying in from France to get matching tattoos.”
“Hey, they appreciate my genius,” Indy mocked, but she was beaming.
I couldn’t blame her.
She’d won her competition, had been featured on several shows, and now, she and Cruz were planning on moving out from above the shop and were going to build a place on the compound once Nyx and Giulia’s home was complete.
I went to use the restroom, and on my way back, I greeted Amara and Quin, who was busy with another client. Amara was helping him, but every task he gave her she completed with such a look of love in her eyes that it warmed my heart.
She was so crazy that it was easy to forget that she could love so fiercely.
“I need you guys to come around sometime this week,” I told them upon my return, trying not to sniffle. Sommer had made me such a sap.
“Why?” Giulia asked suspiciously.
She still didn’t trust me not to retaliate for the baby shower.
“Because Rex and I decided on a date and I need to plan the ceremony.”
I totally was working on a way to get Parker and her back, but she didn’t need to know that.
Indy and I shared a bland smile—she was in on it.
When the next client came in, I left Giulia and Indy to it and headed outside.
We’d had a cold squall, but the sun was shining today.
The US was in chaos. The First Lady had been assassinated while visiting a mobster’s grave at Greenwood Cemetery, and this wasn’t information available to the public but I knew Aidan Sr. had died that day too.
I wasn’t sure if that relieved me or not. He’d been a monster. Unconscionable. But there’d been something I liked about him. Something raw and real.
Amid the manhunt for an assassin who’d murdered the First Lady, the country had locked down over the Sparrows and deep investigations were being made into all aspects of government as President Davidson, grieving, his approval rating never higher, weeded the wheat from the chaff.
For all that America would never be the same again, my family had come together.
Wynter was at a charter school a couple towns over, Sommer had finally started to sleep at night, Rain had been a doofus and had enlisted after the First Lady’s death, and as for Priest, I didn’t want to think about him.
Somehow, he’d become family.
And Rex hated it because Wynter only had eyes for him. Well, him and the baby grand that had finally arrived after months of our being waitlisted.
Apparently, she was like her mom in more ways than just her smarts.
My phone buzzed.
Parker: Are you still in town?
Me: I am.
Parker: Fair warning, Rex is looking for you.
Me: Why do I need the warning?
Parker: I’ve been told not to disturb either of you, lol.
A grin creased my jaw.
Me: Well, you have your orders for the afternoon then, don’t you?
Parker: I’ll make sure I wear earplugs.
Me: LMAO. Sorry not sorry.
I snorted as I tucked my cell back in my purse.
The limpid sun warmed my bones, but what really heated up my blood?
The sight of Rex, holding our baby, sitting in the passenger seat of the SUV he loathed and that I’d ridden to Verona in after my last OB/GYN appointment.
“How did you get here?” I queried as I climbed in.
“Nyx gave me a ride.”
I jibed, “You two are holding up under the strain of having to roam around West Orange in cages pretty well.”
“We’re modern bikers,” he told me with a grin.
He was joking but it was true.
Sommer had attended more council meetings strapped to her dad’s chest in a baby carrier than I could count. God only knew what she was learning, but hell, why shouldn’t she?
She and her older sister would inherit all this craziness, wouldn’t they?
Why shouldn’t one of our daughters be the future Prez? Because Sommer was definitely it. No more kiddos for me.
He arched a brow at me. “You look militant.”
I just smirked at him.
“Uh oh, Sommer, baby, Momma’s got that dangerous glint in her eye,” he teased before he continued, “Come on, show me the good stuff.”
Well aware he thought I’d go for somewhere safe like my wrist, hip, or shoulder, a breathless anticipation hit me when I dragged down my nursing shirt just enough to expose the crown between my breasts. I watched his eyes widen and knew, at that moment, I’d never been sexier to him.
And trust me, the first seven weeks after birth, nothing sexy was going on. Just climbing into pants in the morning was a frickin’ feat.
He reached forward and, uncaring that we were in a parking lot, that people could peer into the car, traced his fingers around the lines, careful not to touch the ink itself.
The crown was masculine in design, tipped on its side to reveal all eight points. It was black and gray shade, with the only color coming from an unknown light source, meant to represent the sun, which beamed along its spikes, and which made the icicles decorating each one gleam all the more.
“It’s fucking beautiful,” Rex rasped, and when I smiled at him, he reached up and traced the curve of my mouth. “Please tell me your OB/GYN signed off on—”
“Why do you think I got my ink today?” I teased. Starting up the engine, I murmured, “I think you need a very long nap, Sommer.”
“I agree,” Rex said, his voice almost a growl. He cupped my chin and drew me toward him. “Baby girl, it’s time to go home.”