Travis’ frown deepened. “Wife. She’s my wife.”
America gasped once the conversation processed in her mind. “You’re getting a tattoo? What is going on with you, Abby? Did you breathe toxic fumes in that fire?”
I looked down at my stomach, to the smeared black mess just to the inside of my hip bone and smiled. “Trav has my name on his wrist,” I sucked in another breath when the buzzing continued. Griffin wiped ink from my skin and began again. I spoke through my teeth, “We’re married. I wanted something, too.”
Travis shook his head. “You didn’t have to.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t start with me. We discussed this.”
America laughed once. “You’ve gone crazy. I’m admitting you to the asylum when you get home.” Her voice was still piercing and exasperated.
“It’s not that crazy. We love each other. We have been practically living together on and off all year. Why not?”
“Because you’re nineteen, you idiot! Because you ran off and didn’t tell anyone, and because I’m not there!” she cried.
“I’m sorry, Mare, I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“I don’t know if I want to see you tomorrow! I don’t think I want to see Travis ever again!” she sneered.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Mare. You know you want to see my ring.”
“And your tat,” she said, a smile in her voice.
I clicked the phone shut, handing it to Travis. The buzzing resumed again, and my attention focused on the burning sensation followed by the sweet second of relief as he wiped the excess ink away. Travis shoved my phone in his pocket, gripping my hand with both of his, leaning down to touch his forehead to mine.
“Did you freak out this much when you got your tattoos?” I asked him, smiling at the apprehensive expression on his face.
He shifted, seeming to feel my pain a thousand times more than I. “Uh…no. This is different. This is much, much worse.”
“Done!” Griffin said with as much relief in his voice as was on Travis’ face.
I let my head fall back against the chair. “Thank God!”
“Thank God!” Travis sighed, patting my hand.
I looked down at the beautiful black lines on my red and angry skin:
Mrs. Maddox
“Wow,” I said, rising up on my elbows to get a better look.
Travis’ frown instantly turned into a triumphant smile. “It’s beautiful.”
Griffin shook his head. “If I had a dollar for every inked up new husband that brought his wife in here and took it worse than she did…well. I wouldn’t have to tat anyone ever again.”
“Just tell me how much I owe, smart ass,” Travis mumbled.
“I’ll have your bill at the counter,” Griffin said, amused with Travis’ retort.
I looked around the room at the shiny chrome and posters of sample tattoos on the wall, and then back down to my stomach. My new last name shined in thick, elegant black letters. Travis watched me with pride, and then peered down at his titanium wedding band.
“We did it, Baby,” he said in a hushed voice. “I still can’t believe you’re my wife.”
“Believe it,” I said, smiling.
He helped me from the chair and I favored my right side, conscious of every movement I made that cause my jeans to rub against my raw skin. Travis pulled out his wallet, signing the receipt quickly before leading me by the hand to the cab waiting outside. My cell phone rang again, and when I saw that it was America, I let it ring.
“She’s going to lay the guilt trip on thick, isn’t she?” Travis said with a frown.
“She’ll pout for twenty-four hours after she sees the pictures, then she’ll get over it.”
Travis shot me a mischievous grin. “Are you sure about that, Mrs. Maddox?”
“Are you ever going to stop calling me that? You’ve said it a hundred times since we left the chapel.”