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Gage rolled his eyes at our brother, then changed the subject. “I have the sign scheduled for delivery, by the way.”
“Perfect,” I said.
Cohen asked, “Does she have any idea that you’re doing this?”
“Not a clue,” I replied with a smile.
Jonas lifted his own beer toward me. “Hats off to you, man. We knew you were a good guy, but this seals the deal.”
My chest swelled with pride. Almost a year ago, I’d met these guys and wanted to impress them, wanted to show them that I was worthy of Hen. Earning their approval, along with their friendship, meant the world to me. Because in one day, I’d be giving Hen my last name and every last breath I had as her husband.
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Henrietta
Confession: Maybe I’m a glutton for pain.
“Where are you taking me?”I demanded of my two best friends. They had me blindfolded in the back seat of my car. I’d agreed to a surprise, but that was before I’d been back here for thirty minutes.
Birdie laughed. “We’re almost there.”
I shook my head. “If you guys brought me to some weird strip club that’s open in the middle of the day...” We had all agreed to bypass the stripper since Liv and all three of my sisters-in-law were coming over later for a grown-up slumber party, but Mara was kind of a wild card. Especially since they asked me to go on a pre-bachelorette-party party with them.
“We’re here,” Mara squealed.
I reached up and pulled off my blindfold. “No fucking way.”
Birdie and Mara were both giggling, but my mouth was open. “What are we doing at a tattoo parlor?”
“Well, you made the last one seem so fun that we thought it was time for a repeat.”
“I cried like a baby the whole time,” I deadpanned. It turned out I washighlyaverse to pain.
Birdie smiled. “You’re not the one getting the tattoo today.”
I looked around, wondering who else was here. “Is Tyler getting another tattoo?”
“Nope,” Mara said. “Jonas texted me a few minutes ago and said they’re all in Waco.”
That still didn’t answer my question. I gave them both a confused look. “Who is it then?”
With a nervous shrug of her shoulders, Birdie said, “It’s us.”
“Both of you?” I asked. “I know Mara has ink, but I thought you didn’t like tattoos!”
“It’s not that I don’t like them,” Birdie said. “It’s just that I’ve never known what to get before.”
“What are you getting?” I asked.
Mara grinned, holding up her phone. On the screen was a cute line drawing of a chicken.
My mouth fell open in a surprised smile. “You’re joking, right? This is a prank and we’re all going to get margaritas?”
Birdie laughed. “I’ll say yes to a margarita after this if it’s half as bad as you made it look.” She grabbed her purse, reaching for the door handle. “Come on. We have an appointment.”
The three of us walked into the tattoo parlor. It was a bit nicer than the one I’d been to for my windmill tattoo, but the tattoo artist up front seemed just as disinterested. I wondered if that was a thing they were taught or if I was just two for two.
The guy with sleeves covering his arms led us back to a chair, and one at a time, my friends got tiny little hens on their ankles. When they were done, the black ink permanently on their skin, I said, “Wait.”