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“You know what?” I leap out of the chair. “I’ve actually changed my mind. Tattoos are permanent, and I haven’t thought this through properly.”
“Cold feet,” Wolfgang nods knowingly. “It’s totally normal. I can put you at ease. Maybe a massage? It helps take the edge off.”
What might take the edge off is a sharp elbow to his eye socket. Or maybe a pointed toe to the crotch. “Are you for real?”
“Oh I’m all real, baby,” he purrs, his pecs flexing and jumping through the thin material of his shirt. “Wanna touch and find out?”
“Can I play?” a deep, furious voice rumbles from just behind me. “But if I touch, you’re the one who’s going to find out.”
Relief so intense it almost brings me to my knees washes through me, and I hate myself for it.
But I can’t help loving the way Wolfgang’s smile vanishes as he takes in Arsen.
“Hey, man, this is a private session. You can’t just barge in?—”
“And you can’t talk to my wife like that. Now that you have, I’m well within my rights to remove those ping-pong balls you call testicles.”
Wolfgang shrinks back. “Listen, man, I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just having some?—”
“Finish that sentence and I’ll take that piercing gun and stab you through the eye with it,” Arsen snarls.
Wolfgang takes the threat seriously, tripping on his own chair in his rush to get out of the room.
The door slams behind him, and I sag against the wall. “So much for my tattoo.”
Arsen jabs a finger at the tattoo chair. “Sit.”
“What?”
“You want a tattoo of Marie’s name on your wrist?” He picks up the tattoo gun like he’s actually going to do something with it. I nod, and he nods back. “Then that’s what you’re gonna get. Sit.”
He looks so serious, so severe that I park my ass back down. “What are you doing?”
“You pick up interesting skills in prison.” He lifts his gaze to mine. “You sure about this?”
Weirdly, I’m more sure than I was before.
“Go for it.” And then, without thinking, I add, “I trust you.”
25
LAILA
Kira bats playfully at her bump like it’s a tetherball. “Enough already! Come out!”
“Hey now.” I gently take her wrists. “He’ll come. Just give him a little more time.”
She whips her attention to me, and I immediately regret saying anything. “Time?! He’s had forty-two weeks of time, Laila! Forty-two!”
A month ago, Kira was lounging on the couch, saying she could stay pregnant a little longer, even. She wasn’tthatuncomfortable.
Then baby boy decided to stay tucked away for two extra weeks, and her tune has changed dramatically.
“You’ve made a nice home for him in there,” Polina suggests, trying to be encouraging. That only earns her a withering glare.
“Have you tried anything to induce labor?” I wag a brow. “You could discuss that with Dominik. See if you can get things going.”
She jabs at the chicken pot pie she’s barely touched with a harrumph. “I could do that. Except, three months ago, we had a conversation about our birth plan. Apparently, I told him that I wanted a natural delivery without any outside interference and if I ever changed my mind about that, he was to remind me of what Ireallywanted.”
