Inked Ever After (21 page)

He tightened his embrace and kissed her temple. “I know I
can’t give Jonah or your dad back. They’re irreplaceable, but I can give you my
brothers. And my dad. They love you, Tate. And you have me too. I’ll love you
and cherish you for as long as you’ll have me.”

“I know, baby.”

“You know what? Fuck everything. Let’s grab the birth
certificates and elope. By the time all these people wake up tomorrow, we’ll be
married. You don’t need to go through all this.”

She shook her head. “No, James. We are not eloping.”

They stayed quiet for a second. Then James asked, “How’s
your mom doing?”

A snort escaped her throat. “Mom? Mom’s tighter than a
bowstring. I’m actually afraid she’ll pull the string so hard it will pop and
get my eye.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

“She’s kept herself superbusy with the arrangements. That’s
what’s holding her up. And Ron. Thank God for Ron.”

Her mom had been in Boston for ten days, and they still
hadn’t talked about anything to do with her father or Jonah. She’d been at
Rosita’s almost every evening since James’s accident, though. That alone was a
huge improvement.

“Everything’s going to be fine. They’ll be fine. We’ll be
fine,” he said, opening his hand on her stomach. “As soon as you agree to take
my last name, that is. I don’t give a flying flip what they do in Italy. I want
my last name on you before our baby is born.”

“I know what you want.”

“And?”

“I’m not that Italian, James.”

She felt his smile on her neck. “Good, because you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” she agreed, turning to him. “I’ve been yours
since the moment you caught me crawling in your dad’s garden in Florida. It
just took a while for the memo to sink in.”

Tate moved on top of him and brushed his lips with hers. So
soft. So warm. She brought her hands to his face and slowly traced his
features, gently caressing every deep and valley, every cut and bruise. He was
so beautiful, inside and out, it brought tears to her eyes.

“I love you, James Bowen. Even if I could live a million
lifetimes, I could never find a better man than you. Or a better father for my
children. And tomorrow I’m going to stand by your side, damn proud to marry you
in front of God and everyone. If you hadn’t come for me tonight, I would have
found you, because I can’t imagine a better way to spend the night before my
wedding than here in your arms.”

“Give me your mouth, baby,” he whispered, cupping her face
and brushing her lips with his thumb.

She did, and when he took it, she lost herself in him. In
his taste and his smell. In the way he worshipped her with his hands and mouth
as if she were the most precious thing in the universe.

They kissed for a long while, unhurriedly caressing each
other, until they were both breathing hard.

Without uttering a word, he pulled her pajama bottoms down,
and she freed him from his jeans. Eyes locked with his, she reached for his
cock and took him inside her body, her core yielding to his heavy presence
while he invaded her mouth with his tongue and swallowed her whimpers.

Covered by the quilt, they rocked against each other, making
love slowly, relishing each stroke.

They came together, trembling and breathing into each
other’s mouths. Arms wrapped tight around each other.

Afterward, Tate lay on his chest, hearing his heartbeat go
back to normal.

“Dad said she died from cirrhosis,” he said quietly.

Tate froze. “Your mother?”

His nod was curt. “Yes. Apparently her shitty life caught up
with her.”

“I’m so sorry, James,” she whispered, hugging him tighter
and looked up.

“I had never been interested in finding her, but Cole went
searching for her when he was twenty. I was seventeen. He found her in a
run-down trailer park three hours from Boston, screwing some abusive loser. All
used up. Cole tried to help her and got locked in the slammer for his
troubles.”

Tate closed her eyes. That explained so much. Especially about
Cole.

“Dad tried to help her too, many times from what I heard,
but she never let him.” And suddenly, she understood James’s need for his woman
to come to him no matter what the problem was and let him try to make it
better. “I wasn’t lying to you when I told you I don’t know how I feel about
her death. Her absence was never a big part of my life the way it was for Cole.
I got over her abandoning us. I’ve accepted it. She was what she was; no use
banging my head against the wall or slicing my wrists. Reality is what it is. I
accepted it and moved on. Sure, I would have loved to have a decent mother, but
I didn’t, and as far as I’m concerned we did pretty well without her.”

“Yes, you did,” she whispered to him. It might have not
marked him as badly as Cole but still, she hated that he had to go through it.
She hated that ugliness touching him.

“That said, I was thinking that we could go to the cemetery
after we come back from our honeymoon. If you want to.”

“Of course I’ll go with you. Whatever you want, honey.”

He cupped her face and stared at her, his eyes soft. “It
goes both ways,” he whispered against her lips.

Her throat trembled. She nodded. “Yes, it goes both ways.”

They lay there swaying for some time until exhaustion caught
up with Tate, and she yawned.

“Sleep, babe,” James said, still inside her. “I’ll take care
of everything.”

“I need to get back to my room.” And they needed to clean
themselves. Pull their pants up at the very least.

“Let me be inside you for a bit longer. I’ll carry you back
early in the morning before anyone is awake.”

“You’re still injured.”

His chest vibrated with laughter. “Don’t let our slow
lovemaking fool you. Remember who nailed you this morning in the shower, twice?
Do you think that man won’t be able to carry you up a flight of stairs?”

He had a point there.

“Sleep, baby. You don’t have to worry about anything, I’m
here. I’ll always be here.”

* * * *

James managed to get Tate inside the house without waking
anyone. As he was climbing up the stairs to the second floor, congratulating
himself on his sneakiness, he realized that Ann, Tate’s mom, was standing
against the door frame of her room, watching them, her eyes shimmering with
unshed tears. Without saying anything, she moved to Tate’s bedroom and opened
the door for him.

On his way out after tucking Tate in, Ann patted his arm, a
smile on her face, and mouthed a thank-you.

He assented with a nod. Ann said nothing else, and neither
did he.

He hadn’t told Tate, and he doubted Ann had said anything, but
a couple days after Tate almost got killed, Ann had come to see him in Alden.
She hadn’t asked why he wasn’t with Tate; she’d just hugged him.

“For as long as I’ll live,” that proud woman had sworn, lips
trembling, tears rolling down her face, fighting tooth and nail not to crumble,
“I will never be able to repay you for what you did—ever. I will always be in
your debt.”

He’d tried telling her there was nothing to repay, but she
wouldn’t listen.

Funny enough, that same day someone else had come to pay him
a visit.

“Your woman was alone in the hospital, crying and asking for
you,” Jack had growled at him. “I’m not an expert in the love department, but
I’m pretty sure you’re fucking up.”

James hadn’t felt like explaining, and Jack hadn’t felt like
backing off. That had been the only time James had almost come to blows with
his friend, and taking into consideration the shit they’d been in together over
the years, that was saying something.

It sure had been a bumpy road for Tate and himself, but he
wouldn’t change a single moment if it meant risking a different outcome.

As he made it to the driveway, he saw his dad and Max
sitting on the porch steps. Wasn’t anyone sleeping today?

“Here comes Romeo,” Max joked as James approached.

He sat on the steps with them. “What are you guys doing
here? It’s frigging eight o’clock on a Saturday morning.” And the wedding
wasn’t until the evening, so there was no need to get up early.

“Taking you to breakfast,” his dad said. “If Cole ever gets
here.”

And as if conjured by those words, Cole appeared around the
corner down the road.

“About time,” Max said, darting to his feet and moving to
meet Cole. “What took you so long, man? Having trouble getting out of your bed
nowadays?”

Cole grunted and Max laughed, slapping him on his back as he
reached him. Yeah, it looked like the marine extraordinaire enjoyed lingering
in bed. Good. James was pleased as fuck that their older brother had taken his
head out of his ass and had gone for his woman. There was something about
Christy that eased their brother, and boy did the guy need easing.

“Come on, guys,” Max called to them.

They stood up and started walking toward the diner, Max and
Cole a little ahead.

“How far along is she?”

James stared at his father in surprise. “How the fuck did you
know?”

No one knew. He’d have loved to shout it to the four winds,
but Tate said it was too early.

His father chuckled. “I had three sons, James. It’s my
experience that when your woman is pregnant, she’s either green or she’s
glowing. Yours, never mind how nervous she is about the wedding, is glowing. So
are you. Not to mention there isn’t a minute she’s in your arms that your hand
isn’t on her stomach.”

He smiled sheepishly. Yeah, maybe he was being too obvious.
Then again, he didn’t know anyone more observant than his father, so he was
probably safe.

“Just four weeks,” he replied, smiling so wide his face was
hurting.

His dad clapped him on his back. “Congratulations, Son. I
knew you’d make an honest granddad out of me someday. Scared?”

“Shitless. It hurt like a motherfucker when Elaine lost the
baby. And I didn’t feel for her a tenth of what I feel for Tate.”

“Nothing will happen. And you’ll do fine, Son. I plan to be
around to spoil him or her.”

“What about Florida? The golf? The salsa classes?”

The old man smirked. “I’ll split my time.”

“It’s gonna be good to have you around here again, Dad.”

“Likewise.” His dad narrowed his crinkled eyes on him. “I’m
so glad you’re marrying your hard-on girl.”

“For fuck’s sake, Dad,” James said, amused. “Tate is so much
more than that.”

His old man winked. “Sure. The good ones always are.”

The diner was relatively empty, but they had to stop several
times to greet people on their way to their table. His father was sixty-two,
but he was in great shape and still drawing a lot of female attention.

“If it isn’t the whole Bowen clan,” Penny, the owner of the
diner, welcomed them at their table. “Same as always?”

Since as far back as James could remember, and before his
dad moved to Florida, the Bowen men had gone to breakfast in the same diner on
Saturdays.

“So, where were you last night?” Max asked after Penny left.

“With Tate in Boston.”

Max’s voice was etched with concern. “How’s she doing?”

James shrugged. “She’s holding up. She can’t sleep well in
her parents’ house. I had to go take care of my woman.” And his woman had been
on her way to take care of him.

“Celebrating something as big as a wedding when half your
family is gone must be so damn hard. It’s a miracle she’s still holding up.”

Yes, it was.

Suddenly it dawned to him. “Listen, guys, I want to ask you
something.”

He said his piece, and before he could finish, both his
brothers were already assenting. His father smiled approvingly.

No, he couldn’t imagine losing half his family—not even one
member.

* * * *

Tate was standing beside her mom, waiting for the music to
signal her entrance. The problem was, her ears were roaring so badly she could
barely hear her own thoughts, let alone anything else. Not to mention her legs,
which were so wobbly she was likely to fall on her face when she took the first
step.

The meltdown she’d had not half an hour ago hadn’t helped a
bit.

Tate had been staring at herself in the mirror, all set to
go, when her mom had entered the room, her sudden intake of breath loud against
the surrounding quietness. For a moment, Tate had thought her mom’s reaction
had to do with the fact that her kick-ass dress had an open back and showed off
most of the tattoo her mother didn’t know about, but it hadn’t.

“My baby’s so beautiful,” she’d whispered, her trembling
hand covering her mouth, her eyes spilling with tears.

Oh no. No, no, no. Her mother never cried. As a matter of
fact, Tate hadn’t seen her cry since the funeral.

“Mom, don’t cry. If you do, I’ll cry too. This is supposed
to be waterproof makeup, but the makeup artist has left already—we don’t want
to risk it,” Tate had joked, hoping it would deter her mom. She’d been keeping
herself busy with last-minute details, but now it was time for her to give her
daughter away, and there was nothing to distract her.

“Thank you,” she’d whispered, her voice trembling with
emotion.

Tate had even been afraid to ask. “For what?”

“For fighting for Rosita’s when Elle and I were out of it.”
She’d attempted to respond, but her mother had hushed her. “You know I don’t
agree with you keeping the whole stalker thing to yourself, but I understand
why you did it. I wouldn’t have handled it well, and set as I was to never put
a foot in the restaurant, it would have been the perfect excuse for me and your
sister to force your hand to sell. I’m not proud of my behavior. I should have
been stronger, but I wasn’t.”

“I wasn’t that strong, Mom. I was drowning, and about to
give up, but James saved me.”

“And I’m very glad he did, but it should have been my job,
not his. I should have been there for you. I’m the parent, never mind how old
you and Elle are. I just wasn’t prepared to face life without your father. Or
Jonah. I couldn’t cope. So I ran,” she finished, her voice breaking.