Page 118 of The Bridges I've Burned

“Hell yeah, I was. I told you, Marin and I are the real deal,” he said sincerely. “We’ve had this planned for months.”

I patted him on the back as Eli pulled us all into port. “Good for you,” I said. “But I’m warning you now. If you cry, I will totally make fun of you for the rest of your life. And probably make a video.”

He looked me over with an amused expression. “You know, the best man is supposed to be supportive.”

“I am supportive. I’m manning you up so you don’t whine like a little bitch in front of all your friends and the tattoo artist.”

“You know”—he rolled his eyes—“now that you mention it, I do feel manlier.”

“See?”

“Billy and Eli rented out the whole shop for us, so we have the place to ourselves if we want it.” It was like he could see the question on the tip of my tongue. “It’s a good shop. They did a ton of research.”

I smirked at the realization of how well he knew me. “Damn, that’s some good friends.”

“You gonna get anything?” he asked.

And just like that, I had an idea.

“Yeah,” I told him. “But you’re gonna have to help me out.”

“Did you tell her you were doing this?” I asked my brother as the tattoo artist slapped the Saniderm bandage over his fresh ink.

Although he’d originally said he just wanted her name, Macon had thankfully gone for something a bit more creative. On his forearm, in bold script, two words now etched his skin.

Only her.

Below it, their wedding date was inked out in a simple font.

My brother looked down at it and grinned. “Nope.”

“Dude, you’re either gonna get really fucking lucky or she’s going to drown you in pregnancy tears.”

“Hoping for the first one, but probably gonna get a mix of both, honestly.” He laughed. “Her mood has been all over the place lately. One minute, she’s climbing me like a tree, and the next, she’s sobbing over a grocery store commercial. It’s fucking weird.”

“Is it the one about the neighbors coming together for a cookout?” Eli asked, leaning over to check out Macon’s tattoo. “That one gets me every time.”

Most of the guys had opted out of ink today, choosing to just enjoy the day with Macon. But Billy and Eli had taken the opportunity to get their ring fingers done with a simple matching design.

There was a whole lot of sentimentality going on today.

And Macon and I were about to add to it.

“So, you ready for number two? Or do you need a break?” I asked, a challenging note in my voice.

“I’m ready whenever you are.”

I’d given him hell for it, but he’d handled the pain exactly like I’d thought he would. Effortlessly. Macon had probably been trained to handle all sorts of shit in the military. This was nothing.

I gave a heads-up to the tattoo artist, a quiet, burly guy named Mark. He had tattoos from his neck down to his ankles. He was friendly, but for the most part, he kept to himself, never butting in or asking questions.

“Dave is gonna take you so I can go on my break. That all right?” Mark asked, motioning to the younger guy, who’d mostly been behind the counter, messing around on his phone since we had gotten here.

“Yeah, man. It’s all good.” I’d looked up their Instagram accounts, and they were both solid artists with a decent amount of experience. This simple design would be a walk in the park for either of them.

“Why don’t you want to get a bro tat with me?” Taylor asked his brother as Macon and I headed toward the front to grab a quick bite.

Dave needed time to set up so we took advantage and joined everyone congregated around the food. As if renting out an entire tattoo shop wasn’t enough, Billy and Eli had thrown in catering, too. Because why the fuck not?

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