Page 110 of Devilish Ink

I fumbled with the charm and blinked back tears when I saw it was set with a tiny image of our first ultrasound.

“Ry…” Liam said, pulling his chair around toward mine. He drew my head toward his chest.

“It’s too perfect,” I said.

“Promise me you won’t take it off,” Liam whispered against the crown of my head.

“I promise,” I said, as my tears wet his flannel shirt that smelled of engine grease.

Liam ran his hands over my hair and shushed at me.

I meant it. I meant it more emphatically than I could put into words.

But he didn’t understand just how much my guts twisted. Because itwastoo perfect.Hewas too perfect. Attentive. Supportive. Kind.

He went to all my doctor’s appointments, surprised me with treats and gifts, made sure I was completely taken care of.

That sort of perfection couldn’t last. I knew it couldn’t.

Fear weaved through me, seeming to increase by the day along with the size of my little baby. I feltwatchedall the time now, and shadows seemed to jump out at me more and more.

It wasn’t justmylife I was afraid for anymore.

LIAM

The balled-up receipt for Ry’s pregnancy supplements rolled across the floor mat on the passenger side as I took a turn a little too fast. It jostled against the other receipts I’d tossed aside.

I wanted Ry to have the best of the best: doctors, nutrition, comfort, ease. There was a receipt for a new mattress, a specialised pillow, a delivery of organic fruits and vegetables, and a whole slew of other things my wallet wanted to forget.

It wasn’t that I wasn’t happy to pay for anything and everything. Fuck, I’d have purchased the moon for her.

I was doing well at the mechanics; my work was always good and I’d started getting customers coming in and asking for me by name.

It was just that I still wasn’t earning enough to give hereverything.

But that wasn’t why I took the turn a mile or two (or ten) above the speed limit. It was because Ry had texted me that Rian was on an extended lunch break from his shift at Dublin Ink.

The tattoo parlour was empty. The tattoo parlour wasours.

The little bell over the door announced my arrival.

I loved watching Ry lift her head from her work, recognition bringing light to her eyes. To have her runtome and leap up into my waiting arms.

Her hair smelled like the special pregnancy-safe oatmeal shampoo I’d bought her. She’d sworn it was too much, unnecessary, but her protests died off rather quickly when I’d massaged it into her scalp in the bath last night.

“Well, hello there, gorgeous,” she said, smiling broadly.

Amongst all the chaos and uncertainty, she was happy. For a second I forgot about my money stresses. All I really needed in life was Ry’s happiness.

“That’s quite a greeting,” I replied.

Ry smirked as her toes came back into contact with the floor. She pointed at the takeaway bag in my hand.

“I meant the burrito.”

I held the bag back when she reached for it and held out the bag from my other hand instead.

“Business first,” I said.

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