Tattooed HeartsA Secret Baby Second Chance Romance

by Melissa Devenport

  “So why risk it, why lie to your parents and sneak around just to be with me when you were going to break up with me in the end?”

  “I…” I what? She couldn’t just tell him that she was falling in love with him and ran from it. That she was trying to protect herself. “I don’t know,” she finally said, knowing just how lame it sounded. “I guess I was just stupid and young and scared. I never intended to keep seeing you knowing that I would break up with you. It just… got real and I couldn’t deal with it I guess.”

  Mike took a moment to process that. He’d never been one who was easily goaded to anger. He was far more patient than most people were. He was actually kind. She remembered that about him, his surprising compassion. He was an amazing artist, but more than that, his clients came and came back because they enjoyed talking with him. He’d once told her that more than one person had said he was an excellent therapist as well.

  “Yah, I guess that makes sense. I’ve spent the past year dealing with the reality that I’ve never felt anything real at all until I was with you.”

  Hearing him say that sent off a shower of sparks inside of her chest. Her head spun and an onslaught of feelings she couldn’t hope to untangle swamped her. She needed to deflect and fast. “Mike… I- I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you that you had a son. His name is Carter. He’s the most beautiful baby in the world. He looks nothing like you but-”

  Mike actually laughed and even though it wasn’t a full on laugh, the sound did wonders to untangle the terrible knots in Savannah’s stomach.

  “Well that’s good to know. I guess he was lucky that he took after his mom.”

  “Oh, don’t say that. You know half your clients just come for the pleasure of you putting that tattoo on them. I never used to miss the way women looked at you. I’d notice it every single time, even if you didn’t.”

  “That sounds very close to jealousy.”

  “Maybe it was.” It was funny, how easy it was to admit it. She’d thought, at the very least, their conversation would be strained, not like the banter they were now sharing.

  “Carter, hey? What’s his middle name?”

  “Carter Jay Fiacco. He’s three months old. Gives me hell all night, almost every night. He doesn’t want to be asleep in his own crib. He’s always hated it. He doesn’t want to be asleep at night at all. He likes napping during the day. It’s almost impossible to keep him awake and after he goes down, to wake him up. He gets cranky at night, since he fights going down. I used to try and let him cry it out, but that went on for hours and I just couldn’t stand the sound of him crying like that, so I gave in. I’m a softie and it hasn’t helped. So I don’t get much sleep.” She hoped the purple streaks under her eyes were less obvious to him than they were to her when she’d looked in the mirror before she left the house.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I could… if you wanted me to- I could help out.”

  Savannah hedged. She’d gone over that too, in her head. All night. For once, Carter had actually let her sleep, but she was up all night anyway, thinking about that letter and what she was going to do.

  “I don’t know, Mike. We’d have to figure out exactly what that meant for both of us. I mean, if you start coming around or Carter starts just disappearing out of the house, my parents are going to ask questions. I have to figure out how to tell them about you. I know you work and that you’re probably busy most of the time, but I could use a break, now and then, even for an hour once a week.”

  “I would give you more than that.” The way he was looking at her said he’d give her whatever she asked for and he wasn’t just talking about his son. Her skin slowly heated up. Her nerves fired on all cylinders. She wasn’t tired any longer.

  “Well, maybe we can get together and talk about it some more.” She pulled her phone out of her purse, which she’d sat beside her on the couch. “I have to get back. I’ll talk to my parents on the weekend. Can you give me until then? Then I’ll let you know what we can think of. Maybe in that time, you can outline your schedule so that I know what would work for you. I still have my car so I can drop him off and pick him up.”

  “That’s not too much trouble?”

  “I think it would be best, at least until mom and dad get used to the idea. Is that alright? I’m sorry, I’m not trying to make you feel bad, especially after- uh- everything.”

  Mike slowly nodded. “I get it. It’s okay. Just… can you do me a favor and text me after you talk to them to set up something? I’m shit at trying to get in touch.”

  “My number is still the same.”

  “I figured it was, I just didn’t feel right about contacting you.”

  Her heart ached at his quiet admission. She wished he had. Wished it more than just a little bit. If he had, she knew she would have caved. If he’d come after her when she left, she would have gone back and maybe it would have stuck.

  “It’s ok. I’ll text you. I promise.” She didn’t want him to think she was going to skip out on him again, disappear like she had the first time. “Mike, can I ask you one thing?” She wanted to take back the words as soon as she said them. He stared at her and it was clear, by the open sheen in his eyes, that he would answer anything at all.

  “Yah.”

  “Why did you say you never wanted kids?” His eyes clouded over and she could tell right away, that it wasn’t the kind of answer that qualified as casual conversation. She couldn’t miss the undisguised pain on Mike’s face or the way his lips slowly thinned out.

  “Next time. I’ll answer that next time, mostly because I just don’t know how, in a matter of minutes. It needs awhile. Will you meet me? Monday night? My place?”

  She hesitated. His place. It was the way he asked, hope infused in every word, that made her hesitate. God, could she really go back to his house, knowing that all it would take was a single caress and she’d be right back where she started? She thought she was stronger than that. She’d become lost in her role as a mother and had almost forgot what it felt to be a woman until Mike looked at her again.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “I’ll come.” Heaven help her, but she knew there was no denying him, or the ache in her heart.

  Chapter 9

  A Second Chance

  Mike

  Mike shifted aimlessly from room to room. He’d never looked at his house so objectively or so critically before, not even when he bought the damn place.

  Savannah’s late Sunday night text, far too brief and uninformative, stated simply that she’d told her parents and that she wanted to talk. Monday night at eight.

  He’d been a wreck ever since. He wasn’t much for cleaning or tidying, though his place wasn’t exactly messy. He preferred a more minimalist approach and didn’t have a lot of crap laying around. The fact that it had only taken him two or so hours to clean up didn’t seem long enough. He puttered around, looking for things to dust, sweep up, pick up all over again.

  When he was done with that, he’d gone domestic for a few hours, anything to kill the time. He’d prepared a meat and cheese plate, an actual platter with cubed slices of cheese and rolled up meats. He’d added olives and crackers and when he was done, he stared at it in disbelief.

  What the fuck has happened to me?

  The doorbell chiming through the house saved him from having to do any further introspection.

  He rushed to the door, slowing his steps at the last minute out of fear that Savannah could actually hear him running. He’d chosen his clothes with care, a first in a long time. He only had jeans, but he chose a pair that wasn’t beat up, a dark wash new denim that he’d maybe only worn once or twice. He’d paired it with the one dress shirt he owned, a black cotton that he’d had to actually iron. He hadn’t done a perfect job of it either. He’d showered after he got off work and actually shaved, also a first in more months than he could remember.

  He pulled open the door and was stunned by the woman who stood on the other side. Savannah had dressed with c
are, like she was going out on a real date. She still looked natural, had opted for a fresh look without much makeup, but she’d curled her long dark hair into ringlets and chosen a knee length dress that while on the casual side, still outlined her beautiful curves. She’d paired the black dress with a light pink cardigan and her pink slip on sandals, while also casual, matched perfectly.

  “Hey…” she sounded nervous and glanced over Mike’s shoulder instead of looking at him. She clutched her car keys, a single fob with a black key and a huge key chain with some fluffy pink ball, in a white knuckled grip.

  “Hey. Sorry, come in.” He held the door open after he realized she was waiting for an invitation. Smooth. Real smooth.

  Savannah slipped off her shoes and stood on the cool hardwood floor in her bare feet. She glanced at him, waiting, even though she’d been in every single room in his house many times over. He tried not to think of her when she was there before. He had to block it out because he was already reacting to her raw beauty, the sweet floral scent of her perfume, the sweet, natural scent of her skin, her laundry soap. It was all as he remembered and it triggered some pretty graphic images of them doing some not so chaste things in just about every room in the house.

  “Do you- want something to eat? I made something…”

  “Oh?” She arched a brow. If the color rising on her cheeks was any indication, she was thinking about some choice memories of her own.

  “Yah. I made a meat and cheese tray. It’s late. I thought maybe you’d be hungry.”

  “I actually had dinner late,” she admitted. “But I could eat something,” she rushed on, obviously sensing his disappointment.

  “Alright. Do you want to talk in the kitchen then? At the table?” It was probably the one place in the house that was safe from old memories. They hadn’t done much cooking or eating in there. They hadn’t done much of anything at his house other than enjoy each other…

  “Sure.”

  She followed him quietly in her bare feet, her little whispery breaths the only audible indication she was still behind him. He removed the large plate filled with different meats and cheeses from the counter and set it on the table.

  “Do you want a drink? Or can you drink, when you have a baby?”

  Savannah pulled out a chair. She sat down heavily, indicating it might not have been the easiest day, or probably weekend, for her, but she smiled softly regardless.

  “Yes. Because I’m not breastfeeding. Carter never did well with it and I was so frustrated and it was painful. All the time. Feedings would take like two hours and it wasn’t good for either of us so I switched to just straight bottle feeding. He’s doing well though. It’s way easier and he’s happier.”

  “Oh.”

  Mike set down the platter, and poured two glasses of wine, his body a rush of mixed emotions. He felt hot and shivery at the same time. Blood rushed this way and that and his heart pounded violently. Talking about Savannah’s breasts, breasts he remembered in all too perfect detail, didn’t exactly cool things down. And the fact that she’d used her body, or at least she’d tried, to feed their son made Mike’s heart warm from the inside. She’d carried him, birthed him, cared for him, loved him. An unexpected rush of tenderness washed over him as he pictured Savannah and their son cradled in her arms. The feeling hit him somewhere between the lungs, crushing the breath out of him.

  “That looks good,” Savannah finally said, when he made no move to choke out any kind of words. He slowly sunk down in the chair beside her.

  “Yah.” He listed off a string of names, meats and cheeses, even talked about the damn olives, all because he couldn’t figure out how to start the conversation he really wanted to. He felt like a coward, but she took the lead and it didn’t look like she minded.

  “You’re probably wondering if my parents are mad. I think they were, at first. They didn’t expect me to tell them that you are so much older than I am. Don’t worry, I made sure they knew I wasn’t taken advantage of. I was the one who took the lead on even showing interest. I don’t think you ever would have if I hadn’t.”

  Mike nearly blushed. God, she knew him inside and out. “Yah, you’re probably right.” He stuffed a cube of cheese into his mouth and chewed without tasting anything.

  Savannah hadn’t eaten anything but she sipped her wine politely. “I think if anything they were relieved at me finally telling them. They’ve always wanted to know and they never really understood why I wouldn’t say anything. I tried to explain to them what I explained to you. I don’t think they really understood. I don’t know if I even understand. Anyway, I made it clear that I trust you and respect you and that you wanted to have a more active role in Carter’s life, or at least that’s what we were going to figure out.”

  “And they were okay with that?”

  “Honestly, I think so. My dad really trusts Kian and even likes him and my mom too. Since you’re friends and you work together, I think they think you must not be that bad.”

  “That’s a relief I guess.”

  Savannah kept sipping at her wine. Noting her glass was half empty, he poured her more. She didn’t refuse.

  “I think my parents, or at least my mom, was really worried about Carter not having a father figure growing up. I could just tell by the look in her eyes that as long as you’re a good person and willing to love him, then you’re alright in her books.”

  “I must say, I’m a little shocked.”

  Savannah nearly choked on her sip of wine. She forced it down and laughed. “Believe me, if I had told them straight up when I found out I was pregnant, I don’t think they would have had the same reaction. My dad might have gone straight for the gun collection and you might have had to skip town. I guess, even though me not telling you probably wasn’t the right thing to do, it made it a little easier now. They’ve had time to get used to the idea. They know Carter and love him and want what’s best for him.”

  “I get that. I’m just glad I don’t have to skip town now. I had no idea your parents didn’t know we were dating before.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Was I really so bad that you couldn’t tell them?”

  “You know why I couldn’t tell them. I tried to explain that. I really was trying to do you a favor. My dad isn’t overprotective exactly, but he would have been pretty pissed about us.” Savannah drained the last of her wine. She’d had two almost full glasses and her eyes were a little glazed over.

  He realized that she probably hadn’t had so much as a drop of alcohol in over a year. He couldn’t help himself, he stared at her face, lost himself in her dark eyes. She didn’t look away. She didn’t say anything at all. He knew the second her eyes changed, because even after a year, he still knew her. He still recognized the flames of passion creeping up, the spark of desire.

  “We can work on the semantics of schedules and visits later,” he said thickly. He took a breath, debating with himself, before he finally just took the chance of a lifetime and dared to ask what had been on his mind for a year. “What about now,” he dared to ask. He didn’t really want to hear the answer. He prepared himself for a no. For an it’s too complicated. For a hard rejection. “Do you think there’s any hope for us? For a second chance?”

  Savannah’s gaze never wavered. Her velvet brown eyes burned into him, giving him hope he didn’t exactly deserve to feel. She wasn’t promising him anything, yet she’d come to the shop. She’d come to his house. She was there now, sitting there staring at him like she used to, as open an invitation as he’d ever seen.

  “I believe,” she whispered. “That I’m a little bit drunk.”

  “Is that a no?” Disappointment began to creep into his heart, seep into his bloodstream and flood his limbs with a heavy, dead pain.

  “No. It’s not a no.” It was all she got out before he shoved his chair back. She stood at the same time and when they met, it wasn’t so much as a coming together, but a crashing together, two forces reuniting, tangling, crushing
.

  Chapter 10

  Illicit Pleasures

  Savannah

  Illicit pleasures were often sweetest. Kissing Mike, oh god, she was drowning in his kiss, his lips, the feel of his hands on her waist. Her head swam and she wasn’t sure it was all just the wine.

  She broke away, breaking raggedly. “Mike… I-”

  “Savannah,” he whispered brokenly. Her name on his lips was the headiest of wine, a drink that was far more potent than anything to be found in a bottle.

  “What are we doing? We shouldn’t be doing this?”

  “No? I could have met you anywhere, but you came here.”

  “Because you asked me to.”

  “You could have picked a different meeting place.”

  “No,” she gasped. It was too much, far too fast. She wasn’t prepared for the way he affected her. He made her feel like a woman, and she wanted to be a woman again. She wanted to be touched and held, to be electrified, to be ignited in the way that only Mike had ever done for her.

  She leaned into him anyway, the slightest brush of their bodies sending sparks shooting through her veins, soaring through her blood. Fire licked its way over her limbs. Mike was the only man who had ever meant anything to her. He was the only man who she had ever truly wanted. She’d been so afraid of it once that she’d ran away, ran away and tried to keep herself safe.

  It hadn’t worked.

  “Tell me, Savannah, right now. Tell me to stop and I’ll stop. You can leave if it’s too fast. You can leave if you don’t want it…”

  “It’s not that easy,” she whispered, aware of how dangerously close his lips were to hers. His breath was warm on her cheek. She watched his lips move so very sweetly as he formed every single word.

  “I know it’s complicated, but I can’t help but want you. You’re so beautiful. You’ve always been so beautiful. I’ve thought about you this entire year. I’ve remembered everything. Do you know how many times I’ve picked up a brush to paint and started and I realize, hours later, that I’ve painted your face? That when I sketch, it’s you, it’s always part of you. I see you always. You’re always with me.”