Chapter 39

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

CATLIN

As I’m sitting in the backseat of a blacked-out Suburban as Owen drives me to Layla’s place, I pull my phone from my purse and shoot her a text.

Owen said we’ll be there in about 5 minutes

LAYLA

I’m ready, waiting in the lobby, and I just confirmed that everything is all set

Fantastic! Finn is going to die.

Girl, I hope you’ve been drinking your water because that man is going to shit bricks.

And then he’s going to fucking ruin you.

I snort at her message, drawing Owen’s attention. “You okay, ma’am?”

For now…

“Fine.” I chuckle as he pulls to the curb at the front of Layla’s building. “And please, would you please call me Catlin?”

“Sorry, ma’am.” He glances into the rearview mirror to make eye contact with me, and he shakes his head as Layla’s bodyguard opens the rear passenger door for her to slip into the backseat. After closing the door, he takes the empty seat up front to come with us.

Layla gives me a tight squeeze, introduces me to Grady—who also calls me ma’am—and provides Owen with the address of our destination.

“I still can’t believe you’re doing this!” Layla exclaims as we make the short drive to Hell’s Kitchen.

She isn’t the only one.

“He’s determined to mark every inch of me. I’m just helping him out,” I jest. A few minutes later, we pull up to the shop. Owen opens my door for me, another of Finn’s rules about safety. Walking to the door of the shop, I squeeze Layla’s hand. “I really appreciate you coming with me and being my emotional-support person when I probably cry.”

As we step inside, I clutch her hand even tighter. I’m surprised to find the shop isn’t quite as intimidating as I expected. Plants and leather couches line the wall to my left, and it’s almost cozy. The rear wall has small cubbies with a chair similar to the ones at the dentist’s office. The walls of each are adorned with various art from the artist’s portfolio. To my right is a large reception desk with a man sitting behind it covered in more ink than Finn. I didn’t think that was possible . I startle when he shouts, “Fresh meat!”

“Be nice, Jimmy,” Jillian reprimands him as she walks toward the desk. “I don’t appreciate you talking to my clients like that?—”

“This sweet little virgin-skinned piece of ass is your client?” He scoffs.

“Yes”—she nods—“And her boyfriend most definitely won’t appreciate you talking about her like that.”

“Is that so, little one?” he asks as his eyes rake over my body. “Who’s your big scary boyfriend?”

“Finnigan Evans,” I answer, watching his entire demeanor immediately change. The reaction those two words have on men never ceases to amaze me. I know Finn has a different side to him— a bad one— but the fear the kind-hearted man I love invokes in others continues to baffle me.

His eyes suddenly meet mine instead of my breasts when he talks, and he quickly stammers through an apology. “I was just kidding around. Do you need a bottle of water or anything?”

Jillian leads me to the back of the shop, but we go to a private room instead of a cubby. She gestures for me to take a seat in the black leather chair as she grabs a stool for Layla to sit beside me. She wheels up beside me on a second one. “You look nervous, sweetie. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I am. To both,” I answer. “Your work on Finn is amazing?—”

“And she’s seen all of it. A lot,” Layla jests, helping to ease my nerves.

“If he trusts you, so do I.”

“This will be fast,” Jillian informs me. “But you picked a tender spot for your first one, so while I am very light-handed, I can’t promise it won’t hurt.”

“That’s what she has me for.” Layla comfortingly squeezes my right hand as Jillian preps my skin.

The needle burns across my skin for an eternity—or ten minutes—before Jillian announces, “All done.”

“It’s so good,” Layla croons as Jillian cleans my tender skin and hands me a mirror to look at her work. Layla’s right. It’s perfect.

Finn’s name runs along the length of my left collarbone in his handwriting, permanently marking me as his.

Finn is going to love it!

Layla graciously pays my tab—so Finn doesn’t get a notification of my purchase—and sends a quick text to Tristan, begging him to keep my secret. The phone promptly dings in her hand, and she passes it to me to read the message. “You owe me one because this secret comes at a heavy cost.”

“Because I’m sure you will absolutely hate every minute of that.” I giggle. “But we should probably get over to Quinn’s while you can still sit.”

During rush hour, the traffic is abhorrent, and it takes us a little over an hour to make the normally thirty-minute drive to New Rochelle.

“Show me,” Quinn blurts the moment we let ourselves through the front door as she tries to push her very pregnant body from the couch. Crossing the room to meet her, I undo the buttons of my shirt to show her Finn’s name amidst my still-reddened skin. “It’s beautiful. He’s absolutely going to love it!” she exclaims.

I’m about to thank her when she grimaces and reaches for her stomach. Gently, she rubs over her swollen belly, groaning, “They’re running out of room in there. They’ve been acting up all afternoon.”

Water gushes from beneath her sundress, and her face drops when she looks down to the puddle she’s now standing in.

“Pretty sure they aren’t going to be fighting for much longer,” Layla quips before running out the front door to let Owen, Grady, and Rory know we’re leaving.

“Fi?” I call to her where she’s coloring at the kitchen table as I pull my phone from my purse to send a quick text to Finn. “Baby, you need to grab your shoes. You’re about to become a big sister.”