“Not until he was done,” I confessed sheepishly, “I didn’t really care what he did as long as he covered it.”

“Yer tattoo man had a sense of humor.”

“Why?” I asked, lifting my hand up so I could look at the raw tattoo. I’d barely glanced at it once it was done, choosing instead to cover it with the ointment without looking.

“He covered it wit’ a Claddagh ring, me love,” he answered with a snort. “May as well have kept de anchor.”

“Motherfucker.”

“Only ye would cover up a tattoo of love wit’ anot’er of de same,” he said with a smile, leaning up until our faces were level.

“I can’t believe he did that. What a dick!”

“Are ye really angry about it?” he asked in surprise.

“No, not really.” My face heated in a blush at the way he was looking at me.

Like I was the best thing he’d ever seen.

“I don’t want to be apart from ye, not even for a moment,” he said seriously. “If ye feel de same, we need to make plans—”

“I’ll move here,” I said instantly, making his head jerk back in surprise.

“What?”

“Nix is the only thing I have in Portland, and he comes here already to visit you. He can do the same for me.”

“But yer shop.”

“I’ll sell it. Shit, Patrick, people do yoga everywhere, not just Portland.”

“Are ye sure?”

“I don’t want to be apart from you, not even for a moment.” I echoed his words.

“I love ye more den ye can possibly imagine,” he whispered, dropping his forehead to mine with a shuddering breath.

“Kiss me, husband,” I whispered back, smiling against his lips as he groaned.

Epilogue

Amy

Two months later

“Yer arse is going to kill me,” Patrick groaned, squeezing my ass in his palms as he slid into me from behind. “Grab a hold of de headboard.”

I moaned as I reached up and grabbed the headboard of the heavy oak bed we’d picked up the day before.

Patrick had bought a house less than a week after I’d agreed to move to Eugene and had started working on making it a home as I’d packed up my old apartment and sold my yoga business to Kali. We took our time, spending our nights between both places, until the day before, when I’d finally handed over my keys to both the shop and my apartment.

We hadn’t spent even one night apart, and I had no regrets.

“Getting tired, old man?” I asked breathlessly as Patrick’s body bent and his hand hit the headboard above mine.

“I’ll never be too tired to fuck ye,” he gasped, grabbing a hold of my hair to turn my face gently toward his. His hips thrust hard, and my back arched even further.

“Beautiful,” he murmured against my lips before letting go and sliding his hand down my torso. “Goin’ to be more beautiful in just a moment…”

His fingers found my clitoris gently, barely rubbing against the nerves that were so past the point of sensitive that it was almost painful. After a few thrusts, though, they fired back to life, and I was rolling my hips against his hand, almost unseating him with the movement.

It didn’t take long before my body stiffened, then shuddered as I came around him wetly.

“Lovely,” he whispered in my ear, running his hand back up my body until his first two fingers met my lips. “Suck.”

He growled as I took the fingers into my mouth, and his hips began to jerk as he followed me over the edge.

We collapsed onto the bed in a sweaty heap, and I couldn’t keep the smile off of my face. Even after all those years, we still had it.

“I may not be too old to fuck ye, but yer gonna have to do all the work from now on,” he gasped and started laughing.

“Good luck with that,” I retorted, smacking his chest with the back of my hand before dragging myself out of the bed.

“Where are ye going?”

“I need to clean up and get ready. Everyone’s going to be here in two hours.” I walked into the bathroom connected to our bedroom and caught sight of myself in the mirror.

“Nix still planning on driving down?” he called cautiously.

My heart clenched at his tone, and I took a deep breath against my irritation over my son. Even months later, Nix was still having a hard time with all that he’d learned. He visited me, and tried to act like everything was okay, but it wasn’t. He’d broken up with Mat for some ridiculous reason, he was working out so much that he looked like he was going to split every shirt he wore, and he still had a hard time being in the same room as Patrick.

It killed me to see the way Patrick’s eyes lit up at the sight of my son, then slowly dimmed the longer they were together.

I had to have faith it would get better. I had to.

“He said he’ll be here,” I confirmed, looking at myself in the mirror.

My dreadlocks had grown out and needed to be tightened, but the longer I looked at them, the less I wanted to go to the trouble. Patrick’s hands were always in my hair, and he didn’t seem to mind the fact that he couldn’t run his fingers through it, but all of a sudden I minded.

“What are ye doin’ so quiet in here?” my husband asked, stepping in behind me.

“Did you know that Leo put one of these,” I grabbed a lock and flicked it, “into his mouth the other day and I didn’t even realize it until it was soaking wet?”