Page 69 of Sweet Nothings

Watery eyed, I cover my hand, gasping when I read the script tattooed underneath the feather.

Sweet Nothings.

My hand trembles when I reach out, wanting to touch the words. Like a magnet, I feel drawn to them. My heart craving to make them tangible and real.

The feather looks exactly as it did on my nineteenth birthday tiara. I close my eyes as a tear slips between my lashes. The memory of Lennon holding the feather between his fingers playing in my mind. The way it danced against our breaths as he whispered in my ear.

My fingers ghost the length of the feather. My vision blurs as tears slip from my eyes.

“Good morning, sweet nothings.”

TWENTY-TWO

Laurel gasps when I turn around and face her. Her eyes flutter shut as she allows the sound of my voice uttering the nickname I’d given her six years ago to settle in her chest. She inhales a shaky breath as she opens her eyes again.

“I told you the other day,” I remind her. “Some of my tattoos have meaning, some don’t.”

Honestly, I’m surprised she hasn’t seen the feather tattoo until now. It’s not that I was hiding it from her, but maybe I was hoping she would see it at some point. Though I have been keeping her at a distance the past few days. Along with the fear of the depth of my feelings for her, I haven’t wanted Laurel to think I suddenly thought it was okay to touch her now that we’re husband and wife. But when I felt her still behind me, her hand reaching out to touch the feather, I knew she’d seen it.

Our marriage has been unconventional in all ways. Finding out your contractual husband has a secret tattoo for you could have been received in many different ways.

A small smile plays on my lips, but it fades when a tear slips from Laurel’s eye. I reach out, a concerned expression tugging between my eyebrows.

I frown. “Please don’t cry.”

Slowly, she removes her hand still covering her mouth. “But…” She swallows, trying to come up with the right words. Her eyebrows pull together. “I didn’t think you remembered.”

“Of course I do.” I let out a small chuckle. “I don’t think you can have a night like that and not remember it.”

“You were drunk,” she argues, clearly still in disbelief. “I thought you’d forgotten. The night we saw each other again at Eclipse, you acted as if you didn’t know me.”

I hold back the emotion climbing up my throat. Everyone always assumes I don’t have feelings. It’s part of the reason I’ve kept Laurel and sweet nothings to myself.

“I was an asshole that night,” I admit, my chest squeezing. “The look in your eye tore my guts out. I could tell you were smiling your way through dinner, playing along as we all were. But I didn’t want my father to know we’d already met. If I did, he never would have let it go. He’d have asked a million questions. He would have stalked you and forced me to manipulate you to get to your law firm. I knew that’s why we were there, but admitting I knew you would have made it worse.”

Her chest quakes with a shuddering breath. “All this time.” She chokes out. “Why didn’t you tell me? You could have told me after that night.”

I press my mouth into a thin line, knowing I need to tell her. She deserves to know my deepest secret. She deserves to know the darkest parts of my soul I’ve kept buried.

“I, um.” I scratch my chin in thought, coming up with the best place to start. I allow myself to fall on my back and look up at the ceiling. It feels like we’ve been in bed forever. But honestly, I could stay like this forever wrapped up in Laurel. “It’s hard to show others who you truly are when they only ever see you as James Harding’s son.” I turn my head to look at her.

She rests her head on my arm, looking down at the feather tattoo. She’s now seeing the front side of it. The entire featherstretches from the backside of my ribs to the front. She presses her palm against it, feeling my lungs expanding under bone and flesh.

“My father raised me and my brothers to be unfeeling.” I clear my throat. “Well, he wasn’t exactly successful with Jude. Because of my father’s greed and selfishness, he made Jude suffer in ways I couldn’t possibly imagine. In ways I didn’t learn about until recently. Eventually, Jude stepped away from our father and running the business. I was proud of him because stepping away from my father wasn’t an option for me. At least, it never felt like it was. The city heralded him as a savior. They placed him up on this pedestal and no one ever challenged him. Even his children. Until Jude did. I think for my father, he knew even if Jude stepped away from the business, he could still rely upon me. I was always meant to follow in his footsteps.” I smirk. “Cold, black heart and all.”

“I don’t know,” she teases, trailing her fingers across my ribs. Across the feather. “Your heart doesn’t seem very cold these days.”

I smile, her words shooting an arrow straight for my heart.

“I think Jude’s betrayal stung worse for my father because he knew I was staying out of obligation. If my brother had stayed, it was because it showed loyalty to him in a different way than I could ever provide. He couldn’t control Jude.”

“I knew your father was arrogant and calculating,” she quietly says. “Being in his presence alone was intimidating. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like being his child.”

“The earliest memory I have of my father is sitting at the dinner table with my mom and Jude,” I start, replaying the memory in my mind. “My dad hadn’t come home in time for dinner, even though he promised our mom he would. But often, he usually didn’t show up until we were fast asleep in bed. We were eating when he stumbled through the door, clearly drunk.His bloodshot eyes met ours as he walked in with a stranger on his arm. I didn’t know who she was at the time, but when I got older, I realized she was one of the dancers from the club he frequented downtown. He’d walked in with her and sat her on the table in front of my mother. With a glare, he laid the woman back on our table and snorted a line of coke down the length of her stomach. Keeping his dark eyes pinned on my mother the entire time. He’d done this in front of his wife and kids.”

My stomach sours at the memory.

“Lennon…” Laurel’s soft voice says beside me. I run my fingers up and down her back, focusing on the ceiling fan above us. I stare at each blade, watching as they spin continuously.

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