Page 95 of Rome
“No,” she assured me, and I felt free to start breathing again. “It’s just…I feel kind of stupid for pushing for a divorce, only to turn around and change my mind a few months later, especially since I was dating someone else up until four days ago. I feel like people will think I’m one of those women who can’t stand to be alone, like I’m afraid to be independent and stand on my own two feet.”
“Are you reconciling with Rome because you’re afraid to be alone?” Kim asked in that neutral tone she used when she was leading you to reach your own conclusion.
“Of course not! We love each other, he’s worked hard on his recovery, I’ve worked hard to forgive him, and we’ve both worked hard at rebuilding trust.” I appreciated Abby’s emphatic denial.
“Do you consider yourself to be an independent woman, Abby?”
“I think so. I don’t rely on Caleb to do things for me or need his approval for anything. I want to work to help support our family, even though Caleb has insisted on paying for everything since our divorce.” Abby turned to glare at me, and I hid my grin.
The subject of the mortgage payment, household bills, and child support payments had been a bone of contention between us for months. I’d tried to appease her by pointing out that I was making a lot more money now as the sole manager of Guardian Ink, but she still complained that she’d felt like she was taking advantage of me. I’d finally told her she had no choice in the matter. I was paying the bills, and she could put her salary toward the kids’ education, hobbies, savings, whatever she wanted.
“You’re a strong and independent woman, Abs. You always have been, and anyone who knows you at all knows that about you. As for the fact that we were only apart for a few months, and you were dating someone else four days ago, if anyone has the balls to ask, just tell them I begged you for another chance and you couldn’t resist me. Then tell them to fuck off and mind their own goddamned business.”
Abby tried to glare at me again, but I just shrugged and gave her an innocent grin. Her glare dissolved with a roll of her eyes as her lips twitched up into a reluctant smile.
“Seriously, baby girl. It took strength to end our marriage because you knew it was what was best for our kids. I know it wasn’t easy for you, and I know it hurt you as much as it hurt me, but honestly, you did the right thing. I’m not sure I would have worked so hard on my recovery and been so determined to see it though otherwise.”
I cast a quick glance at Kim, to find her nodding in agreement.
“Kim helped me understand that I can’t get sober only for someone else, not even for you and the kids. I needed to work toward sobriety for myself first, in order to be successful at it. If I’d sought sobriety strictly as a way to get us back together, it probably wouldn’t have been a viable, long-term solution.”
“Rome is exactly right, Abby. You had valid reasons for making the choices that you made at that time. Don’t lose sight of that, just because circumstances have changed and you’re reversing your decision now.”
Abby was feeling much better by the time we left. I offered to pick up some dinner from a little Italian place that we all loved, while she picked up the kids.
We had another make-out session on the couch once the kids were asleep, and I ended up dry-humping her until I almost came in my jeans. I could tell by the way she rocked her hips against me that she was just as needy as I was.
“You’re supposed to get your results on Friday?” I asked as I nibbled along her jawline.
“Uh-huh,” she confirmed in a breathy voice, threading her fingers through the back of my hair to hold me close.
“I may be dead from blue balls by then,” I muttered, then groaned as I ground my cock against the apex of her thighs. She was lying under me, her legs open and cradling me as I thrust against her, cursing the layers of denim between us.
Abby giggled, then sucked on my earlobe before gently nipping it with teeth, then swiped her tongue along it to sooth the slight sting. She knew that drove me fucking wild, and my hips bucked of their own volition.
“I think you’ll make it, stud,” she teased.
We were interrupted when my phone rang, and I had to leave to deal with an issue at the shop. Some asshat was refusing to pay for the tat on his back, claiming that Dax used the wrong colors. When Dax showed him the form that he signed off on during the initial consultation – which included the colors – he accused Dax of forging his signature and threatened to call the cops unless he was compensated for the screwup. I told Dax to tell him that the manager was on his way, kissed Abby goodbye, and jumped on my bike.
It didn’t take long to sort it out. The sight of me and my cut spooked him, especially when I pointed out that the name Guardian Ink wasn’t a fucking coincidence.
“This shop is owned by the 5thCircle Guardians MC, you stupid fucknut. You have two choices here. You either pay this nice man for the tattoo he gave you, along with a very generous tip for his trouble, or I’ll take my knife and skin that new ink right off your back.”
Once he finished pissing himself, literally, he pulled out his wallet, pulled out several large bills, and tossed them down on the counter along with a stuttering apology for “the misunderstanding”. I reached over and pulled out the remaining cash – another three hundred dollars – then handed back his now-empty wallet, after I used my phone to snap a photo of his driver’s license, of course.
“I’ll be passing your info around, dipshit, and I doubt you’ll be welcome at any tattoo studio in the city. Oh, and don’t even bother calling the cops to whine that I threatened your ass. We know where you live, and I’d hate for you to lose more than just some skin.”
He couldn’t get out of there fast enough, and I heaved a disgusted sigh at the small yellow puddle he left behind on the floor. Dax grabbed a roll of paper towels, a pair of gloves and some sanitizer from the supply closet, then eyed me curiously as he started cleaning up the floor.
“So, uh, how hard is it to cut off a tattoo?” he asked after a minute or two.
I laughed as I told him, “I have no fucking clue, man. I’ve had to make that threat a few times over the years, but oddly enough, not one of those shitstains has ever chosen that option. It’s probably for the best, because I doubt my knife’s that sharp anyway.”
Dax’s mouth dropped open, then he burst out laughing. “Fuck, dude, I totally thought you were serious with that guy.”
He stopped laughing when I told him I had been serious. “I may not have a clue how to skin a man, but I’m sure some of my club brothers do.”
He nodded his head thoughtfully, then flashed me a grin and said “Cool,” before he finished cleaning up the mess.
