I’m awake, trying not to breathe heavily from another nightmare. The clock says three twenty-three in the morning, and that tracks. I haven’t slept through the night since… Well, I don’t know when.
“What do I want what?”
“For your tattoo.”
“I’m not getting a tattoo. At least right now,” I start. “They’re permanent.”
“You don’t say.” Humor travels over his voice.
“And I change my mind enough that I’m afraid I’d want something different or regret it. Also, needles.”
He pushes up to sitting and twists toward me. His broad chest is on display with what little light comes through the blinds. Leaning down, he brushes his lips chastely over mine. “I mean here.” He takes my hand and places it on his pec, right above his heart, holding it to warm skin.
“Really?” My voice is breathy.
“You haven’t wondered why this spot isn’t tatted?”
I nod because I have. And it’s where I want to be, but I asked once—or mused once—and he didn’t respond so…
“This spot has been waiting for you.” He takes my palm, kissing the inside, holding my eyes in the dark.
Wow. “Can I think about it?”
“Of course, baby. And do I get to think of what I want on you?”
I make a scrunchy face. “The aforementioned needles, remember?”
He trails a finger down my arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “What if I want to be permanent on your skin like you are on mine?”
A rare moment of vulnerability from my husband. Maybe only the second one I can remember.
“I’ll consider it. You wouldn’t want a sleeve or anything right? That’s”—a shiver runs through me—“a lot.”
He dips his head and looks at me skeptically. “You know me, Wifey.”
I nod.
“Thenyou know it would only be visible for me. Never anyone else.”
I wave toward my intimate area. “Like down there?”
His face goes deadly serious. “If you think for one moment someone else gets to be near you there, know your smooth skin, or—” He cuts himself off mid-sentence. He’s breathing through his nostrils.
“I would never. You know that. And I don’t want anyone else”—I wave at the general area—“down there. I don’t even like the gyno.”
He settles in, facing me, looking for all the world like he plans to sit like this all night. “I know we’re new, but we’ll make it.”
I know that in my bones. And it’s not trauma or lawsuits that bind us. “Agree.”
“I want to build a family with you. The whole thing. Kids, house, another cat if you want one.”
“My track record isn’t great so far. With cats.” I think for a moment. “Or houses.”
He shrugs his good shoulder. “What do you want?”
“No clue. Affordable. Convenient. Enough for a family but not so much that we need an intercom system.”
“Are you good a little further out of town, some place we can see the stars?”
