Page 61 of Inked Daddies

But, Marry me,said in the middle of the night, exhausted from a mind-blowing fuck session, with Sam and Hugo dozing around us? That’s not how I want to do it. If I do it, I want it to be perfect. Marie deserves perfect.

But the mere thought that I want to do it at all stuns me.I love youwas already huge, but marriage is on another level,something I never pictured for myself. Marriage isn’t for people like me.

Doesn’t stop me from wanting it, apparently.

Marie shifts in her half-sleep, exhaling a faint sound of contentment. The corners of my mouth soften into a smile that makes my bones ache with happiness.

God, I am so gone for her.

I want this, and everything that comes with it. The notion of building a stable future, the four of us, maybe even a child or two if that’s in the cards…it doesn’t scare me as it once would. The old me might have laughed at the idea. The new me is practically floating at the thought.

I picture a day when I’ll slip a ring on her finger—maybe Sam or Hugo do the same in their own ways. A nontraditional arrangement, yes, but it’s ours.

I let my head drop back onto the pillow, staring at the faint patterns of moonlight crossing the ceiling. Sam’s quiet footfalls return, and he slips back into bed on the far side, presumably behind Hugo. The mattress dips. We shift to accommodate. I sense them adjusting around Marie’s form, ensuring she’s nestled securely. My eyes grow heavy, lulled by the rhythmic breathing around me.

A final wave of calm settles over me, the edges of sleep tugging at my consciousness. I press a drowsy kiss to the crown of Marie’s head, inhaling the comforting scent of her hair. Sam and Hugo’s breaths sync up with ours, and in that moment, everything is perfect. My eyes slide shut. The last coherent thought in my head is simple, powerful, and deliriously happy.

I want to marry her.

25

HUGO

I’ve always loved stillness—thekind that arrives late at night once the city’s restless energy finally settles. Even one as small as Auclair has that energy, and after the town falls asleep, the stillness creeps in like a blanket of calm.

It reminds me of standing in a grand art gallery after closing hours, that hush wrapping around you like a soft, dark cloak. Here, in the house I bought for Sam, Trick, and me, that same kind of stillness has taken hold—except it crackles with unspoken tension.

A few hours ago, this space thrummed with life. Now, we are sprawled out in the master bedroom, exhausted, limbs packaged in the sheets from the earlier fun we shared with Marie. We pushed ourselves to the brink, each exploring that heady rush of belonging to her.

I don’t sleep deeply. Not normally, and certainly not tonight. My senses are on high alert, winding down only grudgingly. Beside me, Trick breathes slowly, drifting toward genuine rest. Sam is splayed on his side with an arm flung over his eyes, looking morepeaceful than I have ever seen. Which leaves me lying awake, mind buzzing despite the comfortable warmth of the bed.

I’m not the only one awake. Marie sits at the edge of the mattress, hair mussed from our prior activities. She’s wearing one of Sam’s old T-shirts, which practically swallows her. The sight is endearing, and part of me wants to drag her back under the covers for another go…but I sense a nervous energy beneath her skin.

She’s not in the mood to slip back into half-dazed passion. She’s thinking, and I can guess about what.

A single lamp in the corner casts soft light, revealing the sleek lines of the house I once thought of as a testament to my wealth and taste. Polished concrete floors, floor-to-ceiling windows, modern furniture. Yet all of that feels insignificant right now. My focus narrows to Marie, the faint flicker in her eyes that suggests a million questions swirl in her mind.

There is a look every woman gets when there is something she needs to say. Some are better at hiding it than others. But all of them, when they know they must speak, get that look. Marie has it now.

I rise, slipping out of the sheets, careful to not wake Sam or Trick, and cross the short distance to her side. The bed is custom-made, though tonight it still felt too small for the four of us. That thought almost makes me smile.

I settle on the mattress near her, posture angled so I can see her face without overshadowing her. “Is everything all right?”

She turns, meeting my gaze. There’s a worry line between her brows that tugs at my heart. “This place, what happened tonight,the three of you…everything.” Her lips press together. “I can’t sleep.”

I nod, letting out a low hum. “I understand. It’s a lot.” My accent slides into my voice more than I want it to. But around Marie, I cannot seem to hold it back. “Come,” I add, standing and holding out a hand. “We can let them rest. Let’s talk somewhere else.”

She glances over her shoulder at the two sleeping men. Sam hasn’t so much as stirred, and Trick just snores softly. A faint smile ghosts her mouth. She threads her fingers through mine, and I guide her off the bed. We grab an extra throw blanket, then cross into the living room until we find ourselves near the floor-to-ceiling windows. Moonlight glimmers outside over the river, and I wonder whether the alligators are out and hunting now.

I flick on a small lamp near the window. The plush couch beckons, but she sits on the ottoman, her posture tense and her arms around her knees. I claim the armchair across from her, though I suspect we’ll be side by side soon enough. “What weighs on your mind?”

She exhales. “So many things. We’re…what are we, exactly? The four of us? And I’m happy, but it’s terrifying. And then Dad…he’s not going to be okay with this, is he? And how can I choose?” Her voice trembles, but she keeps it under control. “I feel guilty, excited, confused, all at once.”

I let silence stretch for a beat, gathering my thoughts. She has finally spoken, but she still bears the look of a woman with too many things on her mind. Calling her out now will not help things, so I redirect.

“Your father is a formidable man. He’s also someone we’ve known and respected for years. I intend to speak with him. We all do. But I’ll personally see if I can soften his objections.”

“You can’t do that,” she says, her voice tinged with panic.

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