Page 3 of Uncovering Love: The Wedding

MY CHEEK RESTS ON HISfirm chest. The rapid beat of his heart matches my own as I slowly relax and catch my breath. My fingers can’t help but trace the outside edges of his new tattoo. Centered on his left forearm, it’s all I see.My name. They say you shouldn’t tattoo a lover’s name on your skin because of all that can go wrong. Relationships fall apart all the time, but I love that we did it anyway. That we believe in us enough to permanently mark our skin. As often as I have to talk Tate out of a spontaneous elopement, it’s in moments like these that I’m glad he doesn’t ask, because if he did my answer wouldn’t take into account anything other than wanting to make this man my husband.

Twenty-two more days. Three weeks. That’s nothing considering we only met a little over eleven months ago, when I was hired to investigate his viability as boyfriend material for a client. At the time, I didn’t realize I’d meet the love of my life and start an amazing business in private investigation work with my best friend, Jon. So much has happened in one year’s time. It seems only right we wait until next month to tie the knot on the anniversary of our first date.

The buzz of my cell as it vibrates next to the bed pulls me from my thoughts, and when it continues with its incessant vibration I groan, begrudgingly pulling away from Tate. The text string is constant and all reads the same.

Kate: 911! Jon’s apartment! Now!

“It’s Kate. She needs me.” I sigh and fall back onto the comfort of Tate’s outstretched arm. His fingers play with my hair.

“When does she not?” His chest rumbles with silent laughter.

“I know. Seriously, this pregnancy has her taking our emergency code to the extreme. I get that it’s scary and all, but come on! Not everything requires immediate attention.” I shudder as I remember last month when she texted. I rushed to meet her at her office, and as soon as I walked in the doors she ushered me into the small restroom, locked the door, dropped her pants, and bent over. We’ve been best friends since middle school, but that stretched the limits of our besties boundaries. I can never unseethat.

And I officially never want to be pregnant. Apparently, hemorrhoids are a common side effect. After I encouraged her to pull her pants back on, we called her OB on speaker phone, and he confirmed that’s whatthatwas. I shudder again.

“You cold?” Tate rubs my shoulder and I shake my head.

“No. Just remembering the last time Kate 911’ed me. I really hope she keeps her pants on this time.”

Tate laughs and kisses my lips with a peck. “Women are so weird. If Jon or Derek did that I’d assume they’re gay.” I roll my eyes and he quickly amends, “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” He rises from the bed and walks over to the dresser. He has an unusual schedule, so even though it’s past two on Friday afternoon, he’s only now going in to work. All part of the personal trainer gig, but with my odd schedule at the PI firm, we make it work.

I sit on the side of the bed and gather my discarded clothing, re-dressing in my underwear, tee shirt, and jeans. “So, I’m going to meet Kate at the apartment. What time will you be home tonight?”

“My last client is booked for eight, so sometime after nine. Text me if you end up staying late and I’ll squeeze in a quick workout before I head home.” I nod as he pulls his workout clothes on. The club logo tee fits like a second skin over every inch of tatted muscle. I grin when I see his angry, ointment coated skin bearing my scripted name shimmer in the light. He grabs his wallet and keys off the dresser and catches my stare.

“See something you like?” He grins and those dimples pop, one at each side of his mouth.

“Always.” I lick my lips. “I like my name on your skin.” We just made love but I could go again. I can always go again with Tate. One look from him and my entire being pulses with need.

He stalks toward me and I stand from the edge of the bed. My skin tingles in excitement and his eyes have that glint about them.

“And I fucking love my name on your skin. Can I see it once more?” He lifts the hem of my shirt and exposes the new tattoo on my right side. He drops to his knees and kisses my skin. His lips travel gently and steady around the edges of the lettering.

Then his fingers dip into the waistband of my shorts.

My phone chimes. Again.

And again, and again.

I blow out a frustrated breath. Tate kisses the skin just over my belly button and stands.

“Your friend’s a real cock block.”

I nod my head. “She really is. I’ll be sure to tell her.”

“It’s okay. I have to get to the club anyway.” He brushes his lips over mine one last time and murmurs, “Love you, Evie.”

“Love you, Tate.” He turns to leave and I sigh. Better get to my girl. No matter what, we are best friends and if she needs me, I’m there.

Driving from Tate’s house to Jon and Kate’s apartment takes less than twenty minutes and I crank my music to sing along at the top of my lungs. It’s a gorgeous Arizona spring day and little hairs escape my ponytail when I roll down the windows. I have to take advantage of the perfect weather before it turns to the scorching fires of hell in only a few short months.

Walking up the path to my old apartment—the one I shared with Jon until I moved in with Tate, and the one we still work from—I brace myself for whatever hormone-induced drama lies beyond the front door.

Before I can even slide my key into the lock, the door is thrown open. My gaze darts behind Jon’s alarmed face, but my brain can hardly process what I find. Empty cartons of Ben & Jerry’s are strewn across the surface of the coffee table, and both Kate and my older sister Melissa pace, their protruding bellies forcing a waddle-like stride as they negotiate a cautious pattern over the worn carpet.

“What the hell?” I whisper.

“I don’t know. But they’ve been like this since I got home ten minutes ago. I’m scared. Help.” Jon’s eyes widen as Kate’s expletives increase in volume and my sister begins to cry. Her wails fill the air.

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