Chapter 37

Noah~

I could feel myself losing it, and I didn't know how to pull back from the destructive urges that were threatening to pull me down. As much as I'd wanted to choose celibacy, I was grown enough to recognize human nature for what it was, and while I knew that I could last years being faithful to my wife, I wanted children one day. Now, while I wanted them with her, she'd taken that possibility away from me, leaving me to entertain other options for my life.

I wanted to kill someone.

I wanted to burn the city to the ground.

I wanted to go back upstairs to beg her for a chance to love her, but I was quickly learning that loving someone unconditionally meant that you loved them under any conditions, and these were the conditions that Shea had placed on us, so what choice did I have? I was going to remain married to the only woman that I had ever loved, but force to make a life with another because that's what Shea wanted. Granted, I could always give up my dream of having children, and maybe that's what I needed to do. Maybe, fifty years from now, when I had no children, no one to love, and no good memories to take with me into the afterlife, then maybe Shea would finally believe that I loved her.

After tossing back the rest of my whiskey, I called Aran, and he answered on the second ring like I knew that he would. No matter where my youngest brother was, or no matter what he was doing, he always answered, because like Lochlan, his first priority was our family. Even his artistic fame wasn't enough to keep his hands clean, something that we all appreciated.

"Noah," he greeted easily.

"Who's the guy that does all your artwork?" I asked, foregoing any salutations.

"Ryan Pederson," he answered. "His shop is on Canyon Court."

"I need a tattoo," I told him unnecessarily.

"Seriously?" he asked. "Are you finally going to get the family crest like the rest of us?"

"No, I'm not interested in that."

Aran let out a low hiss. "You know that Da won't be happy if you get any ink that isn't our family crest, right?"

"Da will get over it," I drawled out.

"Well, if you're not going to finally get the Murphy insignia, then what are you getting?" he asked.

"My wife's name."

Silence.

"Aran?"

"You want to get a tattoo of your wife's name?" he echoed. "The wife that you didn't want?"

"Look, I know that you're out of touch with the family when you're traveling, but a lot has changed since I said my vows," I informed him. "So, yeah, I want a tattoo of my wife's name."

"Is your wife's last name Murphy?"

"What…of course, it is," I snapped. "What the fuck are you going on about?"

"If you're going to get a tattoo, then get the crest and add her name over it or something like that," he suggested. "Ryan is very good at what he does, so if you just give him a general idea of what you want, he can make it work. Plus, since he did all of our crest tattoos, he'll know exactly what you need."

"Call him and tell him that I'm on my way," I ordered.

"Sure thing," Aran replied evenly. "But before I do that, I think this is the part where I ask you if everything is okay?"

"No," I answered honestly. "But it's not anything that I can't handle."

"Fair enough."

"When are you coming home?"

"I'll be in Paris for one more week, then I have to make a stop in Milan before heading back home," he answered. "I sold out in Rome, so I need to get back into the studio."

"We'll talk more when you come home," I said.

"You know, I'm still mad at you," he reminded me.

"Fuck, how many times do I have to tell you that it was Declan's call and not a big deal," I sighed.

"Seems like a big deal to me if you're getting a tattoo of your wife's name on you," he retorted. "I mean, seriously? How in the hell do you get married and not invite your goddamn brothers?"

"Cut me a feckin' break, Aran."

He let out a laugh. "I know what that accent means."

"Call Ryan and let him know that I'm on my way," I repeated, getting back to the subject at hand.

"Sure thing, big brother."

As soon as Aran hung up, I texted Declan to let him know where I was going, and not because I had to check in with my cousin, but to let him know that Shea would be alone while I was out. Granted, since the place was crawling with extra guards, she wasn't technically alone, but she might as well be if I wasn't at her side to protect her.

That was another thing that she was taking away from me. When I'd been worried about letting her go back to work, she'd been planning for us to live separate lives, giving me no control over what could possibly happen to her out in the world. Shea was going to be able to make her own choices, in no way guaranteeing her safety, and by the time that it was all said and done, I was going to be driven out of my mind with the lack of control where my wife was concerned.

A part of me wanted to just leave, but with everything that had happened earlier, Shea deserved to know who was in the building and who wasn't. While I didn't think that she overly cared, it was all about her safety at this point, and I didn't want her thinking that I was here when I wasn't. If she heard something or someone, then she needed to know that it wouldn't be me.

I made my way to the bedroom, but when I heard the unmistakable sounds of crying, I stopped just outside the doorway. I turned, then closed my eyes as I dropped my head back against the wall. If I believed in miracles, then I'd want to believe that Shea was crying because she'd irrevocably broken our marriage. I'd want to believe that she was crying because she didn't want me with another woman. However, my wife's hate for me was the real deal, so she could only be crying for herself, and the least that I could do was let her do it in peace.

Figuring that I could just send her a text like I'd had Declan, I stepped away from the wall, then headed towards the elevator. At this point, we were both fucking this this up spectacularly, so the best thing that I could do was give us both some space for right now. Right now, all we had to do was get past her belief that I was the one that had put a hit out on her; the rest of it was just words. Yeah, they were words that we couldn't take back, but they weren't actions that would make it impossible to go back.

When I reached the underground garage, it looked like earlier had never happened. The bodies were gone, the blood had been cleaned up, and the car that had been parked around the block was gone. It was as if the two men had never existed, but they'd had, and their ghosts were going to haunt me for the rest of my life. They had a hold on my wife that was never going to go away, and I wished that I could kill them all over again.

As arrogant as it was, I wasn't worried about Ryan's schedule or if he was already working on a client. Without a doubt, I knew that he would clear his calendar for me, and even if my last name wasn't Murphy, the man was going to make more off my simple tattoo than he was going to for the rest of the night. While I wasn't above taking advantage of the perks that came with my last name, I tried not to be an asshole about it if I could.

Entering the shop, the little bell rang, and I didn't have to wait long before a man in his mid-twenties was walking towards me, and whatever I had expected Ryan Pederson to look like, bare skin hadn't been anywhere on that picture. He looked like he should be marching his way across a college campus for mid-terms. In fact, he looked like he sold mid-term papers on the side, the glasses a nice touch that didn't go with his chosen profession.

"Mr. Murphy?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"I'm Ryan," he said, introducing himself. "Aran said that you wanted the Murphy crest?"

While I didn't necessarily want to brand myself with my family name, Aran had made a good point about combining Shea's name with the crest. After all, what better way to make her see that she was a part of me than to ink her name alongside my family, the most important people to me?

"Yes," I finally replied. "However, I also want my wife's name incorporated in there somewhere."

"What's your wife's name?"

"Shea. S-H-E-A."

"Do you want just her first name or both her first and last name?"

"Both," I answered.

"Okay…yeah…" he muttered, already designing the tattoo in his head. "Just…come this way."

Four hours later, I had my family's crest and my wife's name permanently etched into my skin.