My throat is itchy, and I don’t even try to stop the tears. Squid is right. It was badass.
“And then you did another difficult thing. You saved a life. Our brother’s life.”
When I look up at Hawk, he’s tearing up, too. But Squid isn’t done.
“Our first gift to you was to help destroy the club that hurt you.”
The deafening applause takes me by surprise, and I stand just a little taller.
“And for the other one, I am honored to officially present you with these.”
It’s the tiny denim vest that gets me. Yeah, mine looks great, but the baby cut with my son’s initials on it has me bawling for real.
I still manage to shoot Bev a semi-reproachful look. Last week, she asked me to pick a road name, “for the club files.”
Now it’s staring at me, artfully embroidered in shiny black floss. Raven.
There are more tears and hugs, and the girls even hand me another gift bag.
Luckily, no one asks me to give a speech.
“I’m proud of you,” Hawk whispers in my ear as he hugs me last, and my belly flutters.
I squeeze him as hard as I can. When we finally break the hug, his eyes are bright and joyful.
I love him, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
Chapter 29
Marissa
Ismell my bouquet again. I can’t stop touching the roses’ delicate petals.
I can’t remember the last time I was on a date. I truly can’t.
All I know is, I refuse to categorize that New Year’s party (or any club gatherings for that matter) as a date.
The gorgeous dress the girls got me was obviously chosen by Lucy. It’s in the vintage style she loves, with a full skirt that stops mid-calf, and it makes me feel elegant, refined, and unbelievably beautiful.
When Hawk sees me, his eyes dart all over me, like they’re trying to notice every single thing, until they reach my lips, which they can’t seem to move away from.
Then he says, “You had red lipstick on when I saw you for the first time.”
I knew he’d remember. “I figured it was only right to wear it for our first official date.”
“I’ve thought of little else since then,” Hawk says quietly, almost to himself, then looks me in the eye. “You’re drop-dead gorgeous, you know that, right?”
“I do now.”
Hawk sings along to the CD, and it’s as adorably off-key as ever. The song is vaguely familiar. He reaches for my hand and kisses my fingertips, and they tingle as he continues serenading me.
I smile while shaking my head, like he’s being silly, but I’m flattered and delighted that he thinks I’m a witchy woman.
“I saw the piece you were working on earlier,” Hawk tells me as we look over the menu. “You’re getting really good. Professional-level good.”
There it is again, the shyly blooming pride.
“Thanks. I enjoy embroidering more than words can say. I think that was a big part of why I chose to apprentice with Cotton.”
