“Because . . .” He clears his throat, and a new blush heats his cheeks. “I wanted to get the tattoo with you, but I wanted to show you later, when it’s not angry and red—I have very sensitive skin, is the thing.” He sighs. “What I mean is . . . That is . . .” His eyes search mine. “I wanted to reveal it in a more . . . intimate setting.”

My eyes fill with sudden tears. I drop my forehead to his shoulder, rolling my head from side to side. “Jamie,” I whisper.

Slowly his hand comes to my hair, softly tangling in the half-out strands. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” I tell him thickly, lifting my head, then meeting his mouth for a long, deep kiss that leaves him grinning with proud satisfaction. “It couldn’t be more right.”

—

“I’m invincible.” Jamie stands like Superman outside the tattoo parlor, hands on his hips. “I am a badass.”

I laugh and slip an arm around his waist. “You are. You’re also soaring on endorphins and adrenaline right now, and unless you ate your weight in tapas while I was in the bathroom with Jules back at the party, I don’t think you have enough food in your system. You’re going to get shaky.”

Jamie tugs at his collar, glancing between the curb where our cab is due any minute and me. “Hmm.” As I predicted, he’s looking a little sweaty and pale now. “I think you’re right.” He sways a little. “I need to eat something.”

“Absolutely.” I hold his waist tight, and this time it’s my turn to open the car door as the taxi pulls in. “Food will perk you up. What’ll it be?”

“A burger the size of my head,” he says blearily, the back of his skull hitting the headrest with a thump.

My heart starts pounding. Not only am I a terrible cook, but I’m a total wimp for handling raw meat. Even if I attempted a homemade burger, I’d have a sensory freak-out, then probably end up burning down the apartment. And after a whole night out—the noisy, echoing party; the sheer chaos of karaoke; the monotonous buzz of the tattoo gun as Pat worked on Jamie—I absolutely do not have one more stop in me.

Which leaves only one option. One that I can’t even believe I’m considering.

“You going to a burger joint now?” the driver asks. “Which one?”

“Actually . . .” I turn toward Jamie and link my fingers with his. “Hey, Jame.”

“Hmm?” His eyes open only as slits before they shut again.

“So here’s the thing. I know a place that makes the best burger in town.”

His eyes are shut as he nods. “But there’s a catch?”

I clear my throat nervously, ignoring our driver’s huff of annoyance as I make him wait. “There definitely is.”