Page 120 of Accidental Husband

Fuck, the headache is making me pissy. I don't want people intruding on this. It's ours.

I can handle the opinions.

But Jules?

She's probably staring at her cell with horror right now.

I'm tempted to go straight to her room. To bust down the door, drop to my knees, and pleadstay with me, baby. Give me a chance. Give us a chance.

Whatever it takes to get through to her.

But I know better.

That kind of shit will only put more pressure on her.

And, besides, I'm not capable.

I can barely thinkI need you, baby, please don't go. I certainly can't say it.

"Which should we discuss first?" Wes steps into the elevator. "The ring or the tattoo?"

I follow him into the metal box. "We are tattoo artists."

His laugh is bouncy. Typical Wes. "Is there something notable about the design?"

"You tell me."

The shiny silver doors press together.

Wes wraps his fingers around my arm. Leans close enough to examine my fresh ink. Juliette in thick, black letters. "You know what that means?"

I shake my head.

"You can't hit the pool today."

I can't help but chuckle. It's the perfect thing to say. The Wes thing to say. "There go my plans." I slide the key into the reader. Hit the button for his floor.

He arches a brow.

"Figured you'd want to put on pants."

"Not sure I do." His laugh bounces around the space. "The heat is almost tolerable in this getup."

"Makes sense."

He rests his back against the metal railing. "Does she have one too?"

"Yeah."

"Where?"

"None of your fucking business."

"Oh?" He raises a brow. Shoots me thatyou better expand on the dirty shitexpression.

But it's not dirty. It's sweet. Well, bittersweet. I love that Jules tattooed my name on her skin. But I hate that a stranger did it. Even if it's my name. And my design. And my—

Fuck, I don't want to call this.