Authors: Stephanie Fournet
Lee dropped his right hand to his side. “Sorry.”
“Liar.” Wren rolled her eyes as she worked. “Can you go ten more minutes without moving? I’m almost done.”
“What are you doing, anyway? I can’t even see.” Lee craned his head, but she held up a gloved hand in front of his face.
“Nuh-uh. Not yet. No peeking.” She sprayed him with green soap, dabbed his skin again, and leaned forward.
He sighed. In the last year, he’d given her his body to do with as she pleased. Literally. He would have thought that the moment of transcendence he’d felt with the key could never be duplicated, but, in reality, every time she inked him, it was like a religious experience. Lee couldn’t get enough, and now he had a sleeve to prove it.
But he wanted the marks she left on him to be entirely her vision. How she chose to adorn him never failed to make him smile. From shoulder to wrist, he bore the gray-brown branches of a hawthorn tree, with its knotted bark, thorny twigs, and lobed leaves. But each twig and leaf — even each thorn — was individual. A lone ant marched along a twig. A pair of owl eyes glowed out of a hollow, and a caterpillar munched on one of the leaves.
And, of course, there were birds.
A pair of wrens perched high on his shoulder, side by side. Lee fucking loved them. He loved them so much that he’d changed half his wardrobe. If he wasn’t at the hospital — and it wasn’t outright freezing — he wore sleeveless tees.
The first time he’d done so at his parents’ house had been a surprise for them, but they’d handled it well. Once Barbara spotted the two birds, she’d grinned all afternoon. Neither Tom nor Barbara had been surprised a week later when Wren came over wearing his ring.
Lee looked down and could make out the outline of the engagement ring under her glove. It had taken some time, but in January he’d found the perfect one at an antique dealer’s on Royal Street in New Orleans.
His criteria? It had to be Edwardian. The cut had to be round, and he wanted a blue stone. Not an impossible mission, given the style of the period, but it still took him a couple of months to find the right one.
The white gold filigree, the engravings, and the accent stones along the crown were just as intricate and detailed as Wren’s own skin. The round-cut sapphire just as striking. Blue, because she’d told him it was her favorite color.
Of course, she hadn’t told him why until after he’d proposed.
“Because of your eyes,” she’d said, tearing up and clutching her newly ringed finger to her heart. “They’re the color of safety.”
She could always bring him to his knees, which, given how sweet she tasted, was fine with him.
Lee lifted a hand again to touch her, and his beloved fiancée shot him an evil look. “Don’t even think about it.”
He sighed again and tried to distract himself. “How was SafePlay?”
At his question, her mouth twitched with a smile. “It was cool. That little boy I told you about? Ashton? He let me draw with him today.”
“Sweet. Congratulations.”
If he’d thought he was proud of her a year ago, it was nothing compared to how he saw her now. At Evelyn’s suggestion, Wren had started volunteering at Acadiana Recovery Center two or three times a month. She’d worked up the courage to do it about a month after her friend Curtis had been discharged. Although she was scared to meet the kids at ARC at first, the experience supported her compassion therapy like little else. Helping kids who were dealing with addicted parents made it so much easier for Wren to recognize herself in their suffering.
A lot of them had experienced abuse like hers.
Working with these children was painful for Wren, but it healed her, too. And Lee knew that the drawing projects she did with them could only help to heal the children as well.
“What did you draw?” he asked softly.
Wren’s eyes never left her work, but he saw the light in them.
“I drew a picture of Laurie, and he drew a picture of his mom.”
“And how’s his mom doing?”
Wren shrugged. “He’s there every Saturday I go, so I’m guessing she’s doing okay.” Wren gave a sigh and looked back at him. “Her therapy is court-mandated, and she’ll lose him if she doesn’t complete the program, but I’m hopeful.”
So damn proud.
“You’re amazing.”
She tried to hide her smile and failed. “Okay…” She sprayed and wiped his shoulder one more time. “…are you ready?”
“Hell yes,” Lee said, sitting up.
“Wait. L-let me get the mirror,” Wren stammered, a nervous look claiming her face. She peeled off her gloves and grabbed the hand mirror from her cart, but she held it against her chest at first, eyes wide. “Promise me you won’t freak out, okay?”
Lee frowned. “What’d you do? Put a skull in my tree?” He reached for the mirror, but she pulled it away.
“Promise.” The sternness in her voice was a cover. She was nervous. She didn’t have a reason to be. Wren had done nothing to give him any regrets.
Nothing to his body and nothing to his heart.
“I promise, my love, I will not freak out.”
At his words, Wren’s eyes visibly calmed, but she took a deep breath and let it out before handing him the mirror.
“Let’s see what you’ve done,” he teased, taking the mirror from her.
He aimed it at his shoulder and found his two wrens. Lee saw they were unchanged, but then he spotted the new addition. A nest on the branch below them, woven and rough, just like any bird’s nest. And inside of it was a small, tawny, speckled egg.
An egg.
Lee swallowed, and his eyes flashed to Wren’s. She stood before him with her hands clasped over her mouth.
“Wren…?” Was this new tattoo a promise for later? Or now? He scanned her from head to toe. Were there signs in her body he’d missed? The look on her face could only mean one thing. Lee leapt off the table and caught her in his arms. “Really?”
She nodded before planting her face into his chest and sniffling. Lee’s joy was so massive he burst out laughing.
“How long have you known?” Had she been to a doctor? Was she feeling okay? Was she ready for this?
“A week,” she said proudly, looking, by all accounts, ready for this.
Lee’s eyes went wide. “You’ve kept this a secret for a whole week?!”
It was her turn to laugh. “I know, right? It was the hardest thing to do, but I had to get my stencil ready,” she said, pointing to the nest tattoo.
He gripped her shoulders. “You had to draw a tattoo before you could tell me I’m going to be a father?”
Holy shit. I’m going to be a father!
Wren shrugged, looking demure. “It’s a present. You got to surprise me with my ring,” she said, waving her finger in front of him. “I figured it was my turn.”
He picked up the mirror again and looked at her best tattoo yet. “You left a lot of room in that nest,” he noted. “I hope that means what I think it means.”
Wren smiled. “You’re going to be a great dad. We’re going to fill that thing.”
Lee Hawthorne leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. She’d made his house a home. In a month’s time, she’d make him a husband, and here she was making them a family.
Well, he could take
some
credit for that.
“Wren, I think I just became the happiest person alive.”
His beautiful woman quirked her mouth in a smirk. “Wait until we tell Mamaw.”
STEPHANIE FOURNET
, author of
Fall Semester
,
Legacy,
Butterfly Ginger,
and
Leave a Mark,
lives in Lafayette, Louisiana—not far from the Saint Streets where her novels are set. She shares her home with her husband John and her daughter Hannah, their needy dogs Gladys and Mabel, and an immortal blue finch named Baby Blue. When she isn’t writing romance novels, she is usually helping students get into college or running. She loves hearing from fans, so look for her on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Goodreads, and stephaniefournet.com.
It’s humbling to know that every book I write depends on the help of so many others. This one is no different. I’d like to begin by thanking Joan Peterson and Jill Braun for the tea. I know it’s long overdue. Thanks to Lynette and Candy Domengeaux for all the inside info on tattoos. The work of master tattooist Terry Grow was also a source of inspiration as I created Wren’s art. Who knows? Maybe I’ll be sporting one of his originals soon.
Once again, I need to thank my favorite nurse, Beth Acevedo, for her labor-and-delivery expertise. She is absolutely the woman I pictured when I wrote Lee’s trusty nurse, Bev Champagne. To Chris Dardar, Paul Quick, and the rest of my Ascension family, thank you for supporting the novelist in me. Lisa McDaniel, thanks for reading my chapters and telling me the truth. Keep doing that.
Mamaw Niecie and Mama Gigi, I hope you are getting a kick out of the character that came from my love for both of you. Say hello to Papaw Kyle and Daddy Lee for me.
Thanks to Nathan Van Dyken, my awesome publisher, and Paula Buckendorf, my talented and treasured editor. Your advice, expertise, and support are invaluable. Thanks to Jill Sava, Amy Senethavilay, and all of the wonderful and talented people at Blue Tulip Publishing. To Jen Halligan, thanks for working so hard on my behalf.
To Hannah, thank you for being my sounding board and wordsmith. John, as always, thank you for being my first reader and my biggest supporter.
And, dear reader, thank you for taking up this book and giving my characters a chance to come alive again for you. Now, before you forget, take a moment to post a review. It doesn’t have to be long. Go on. Do it.
One last note: If you’ve read
Butterfly Ginger
, then you caught a glimpse of Lee Hawthorne before this story opened. (You also might have spotted Nate, Blythe, and their baby boy in Chapter Twenty-one here.) If you’d like a hint of what’s next, go back to Chapter Sixteen and find Meredith Ryan and her son Oscar. You’ll see more of them soon!
Happy reading!
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