The Hustle (Irreparable #4) (34 page)

“W
here are you taking me?” I ask Peyton as we walk from the loft to the Gas Lamp Quarters.

“You’ll see.” I feel like a five-year-old when I ask again at the next block. She flashes me a look that silences me.

When she woke me up this morning with news she was taking me somewhere and had a surprise that would allow me to truly heal and devote myself to her, it freaked me out. Her not telling me where we’re going makes it worse. I thought I was already truly devoted to her.

After four more blocks, she finally yells, “Surprise!”

We stop in front of a tattoo parlor I’ve passed a hundred times on my way to the office. I glance across the street to see if there’s some sort of wedding shop, but unless the Burger King or Subway is catering our big-day, there’s nothing.

When she pulls on the door to the tattoo parlor, I make my confusion known again. “You want me to get your name tatted on my dick to prove my devotion?” I’m rewarded for my humor with a hard slap on the arm, which doesn’t deter me. “No wait, you want me to get a naughty piecing. I’ll do it if you do it.” I waggle my eyebrows, challenging her.

Her jaw drops but her shock doesn’t prevent her from smacking me on the arm again. “Would you just go inside?”

“After you,” I say, holding the door above her head.

It’s my turn to be shocked when I spot Davey leaned over the counter, talking to a small brunette. He and Brady own a restaurant a few blocks from here. Last I heard, the place was supporting itself enough that Davey was looking to open up something else. I just assumed it was another restaurant.

“Hey, Tug. Be with you in one sec,” he calls over.

I turn to face the sneaky, albeit gorgeous blonde I walked in with. “He’ll be with me?”

She holds her hands up. “Just hear me out.”

“You seriously want me to get a tattoo? I think you’re confusing me for Brady.”

“No, I want you to get a permanent reminder of Maria.”

I’m flabbergasted to say the least that the woman I’m supposed to marry in two days is asking me to permanently mark my body with a memory of the woman I bailed on her for. “Are you alright? Have you been taking medication to help with wedding stress?”

I swear I’ll have a bruise on my arm where she’s been smacking me all morning.

“Are you done being an ass?” I don’t answer, one; because I don’t think she expects me too, and two; because she loves that I’m an ass. “Tori and I were talking and she mentioned Brady had lost someone he loved too, and that he got a tattoo so he would always remember her. I know what Maria meant to you and I just thought . . . it would be a nice way to . . . you know to . . .”

As she struggles to fully explain what the hell is going on in her head, I decide to help her out. “Okay, I’ll get a tattoo if you do.”

“Really?” She beams with excitement.

“Yes, but I get to pick and you can’t see what it is until it’s done.”

Her excitement vanishes. I watch her lips move back and forth with what I’m sure feels like a test of her trust. It’s not. I would be just as happy walking out of here ink free, but if she wants me to get a tattoo, she will have one too.

“Okay.”

My lips smile just as Davey approaches. We exchange bro hugs, and when I go to introduce him to Peyton, it seems they already know each other. “Okay, so are we going with the hot air balloon?”

He waits on me to answer, but I feel like my knees are going to give out and the air has evaporated from my lungs. Over the last few months, I’ve opened up to Peyton a lot. I told her about the tattoo Maria got while we were apart and what it meant to me. I don’t need the tattoo to understand the impact of this woman’s love and what she would do for me.

“No, we’re getting something different.” I take Davey aside and tell him what I want done and ask if he can do it. He has me follow him to a desk and works up a quick sketch . . .”That’s perfect, man,” I tell him when he’s finished. “When’d you start doing this?”

“You learn a few things in prison.” I understand the reasons for his terse laughter. Davey was dealt an even shittier hand in life than I was, yet he finally seems to have it all together.

“Alright, so you or the old lady first?” he asks, glancing at Peyton who just walked up.

“You can go first,” she kindly offers.

“Oh, no . . . and give you the chance to chicken out?” I look at Davey. “She’ll go first.”

He leads us to his station. After Peyton settles in the chair, he has her lower her jeans so he can place the etching just above her hip on the far right side where we decided was the best place to get the tattoo.

Her eyes focus on me above her as Davey explains what she can expect. “I swear to God if I end up with a dick tattoo, I will rip your balls off.”

I laugh, quirking a brow. “You can always opt for the piercing.”

She narrows her eyes at me as she warns me again. “Clean off, Aidan Hunter.”

“Relax. I promise you’ll love this.”

The buzz of the needle makes it harder to watch her grimacing, but I think about the smile I’ll be rewarded with later and tune it out. This is my girl. My only girl. It’s time she understands what she means to me and the impact she’s had on my life.

G
etting a tattoo didn’t hurt nearly as much as I thought it would. The real agony is not being able to look at it until Aidan’s finished. I try to excuse myself to the bathroom so I can sneak a peek, but my effort is way too obvious.

My curiosity intensifies as I watch Davey apply the etching for Aidan’s tattoo, but at a distance where I can’t see the design. The wait grows less excruciating as the buzzing of the needle becomes hypnotic.

Davey finally sets the needle down and applies antiseptic to the finished product on Aidan’s left hip.

“I love you,” Aidan says, leading me by the hand to a full-length mirror on the wall.

We stand side by side and my breath falters as he lowers his jeans slightly. I notice half a heart cut out like a puzzle. I hold my jeans as Davey removes the gauze taped over my tattoo before he leaves us alone. Tears form when I see the heart puzzle piece on my hip is the piece that fits his. They don’t line up exactly as Aidan is significantly taller, but the message is clear. There’s lettering scrolled along the sides of each half of the hearts, but I can’t make out what it says in the mirror.

“You once said to let you in and that maybe you could replace the missing piece. You have, and I don’t have room now for Maria. Yes, I love her. I’ll always love her, but she’s gone. I finally accept that.”

I don’t bother to fight the tears. “It’s beautiful. What does it say?”

“My half says,
In the end all that resides
. . . and your half says,
in our hearts is each other.
”

In the end all that resides in our hearts is each other.

I can’t get a grip on the tears of joy that keep stealing my voice so I can tell him how much I love what he did for me.

“Maria will always be in my memories, but in my heart there’s only room for one love. That’s you. I wanted you to have a permanent reminder of how I feel.”

What was supposed to be me helping him move on, has essentially turned into providing me with something I needed more than I realized. Confirmation of his love pulls at my heart. If there was ever a question of his commitment, it’s been answered. We’re one heart.

O
n a blissful summer afternoon, I stand under the oak tree where I proposed to Peyton, choking back tears as my angel appears behind Liv and Tori. The epitome of grace with her arm looped through her father’s, I can’t take my eyes off of her.

The thought she put into having the wedding here erased every doubt I ever had as to if she really knew me. She knows actually who I am. She knows me better than I know myself. I wouldn’t have thought to choose this spot, but there is nowhere else I would want to promise Peyton forever. All the kids I’ve grown to love like my own are able to be here with me, in a place that got me through the moment that robbed me of my own childhood.

Camilia walks in front of Javier, tossing rose petals to the ground and giggling. Javier plays it cool, but the focus in his posture shows his nerves as he balances the pillow with mine and Peyton’s rings.

I turn my head to the right and catch Brady looking at Tori as she walks the aisle behind Liv. There was a time I rode him hard about how that look made him a pussy, but now I understand how difficult it is to prevent. One glance at Peyton renders me stupid, and when The Bridal Chorus begins, those pesky tears burn my eyes.

It feels like an eternity for her to reach me, and in that solitude, I wait for doubt, for my conscious to try and plant some deep-rooted seed that I’m making a mistake. Nothing . . . nothing but adoration for this woman who loves and accepts me fills my heart and my thoughts. I exhale with the revelation that I’m finally free from the chains of guilt and blame.

I’ve finally chosen right.

Her father announces that he gives this woman to me, and I thank him, feeling the ache in my chest that she’s really mine.

While her parents conceded to us not marrying in the church, they insisted on traditional vows, despite Peyton’s protesting that she wanted us to write our own. I may have helped convince her it was okay because I could never put into words how I feel about her.

How do you explain to a woman how her confidence and fierce independence saved you? That her not needing me, is ultimately what relieved the pressure long enough for me to love her? Peyton never needed a knight in shining armor. She was . . . I can’t help but smile—okay.

Even when I broke her heart and I abandoned her, she was okay. I never defined her, and she didn’t need me to be happy, or for a better life or to save her. She simply wanted love and a partner to share her life with.

For some baffling reason, she chose me. By her being okay, the chaos was finally tamed, and I fell in love with a woman who will always be okay. That means I can’t fail her. Not because I’m not capable, but because you can’t ever disappoint a woman who won’t allow you to.

I tried many times. When she accepted who I was and the garbage left behind, I did everything in my power to force her to run, but she dug her heels in and refused to budge.

Her hand trembles as I slide the ring up her slim finger, promising to love her forever. It’s when she slides the ring up my finger and promises to love me that my hand begins to shake. The ring represents an outward reminder of our internal devotion, but my runaway emotions are a result of knowing she is now my wife. That she’ll share my love and my life and my family.