Southern Chance (Southern 1)

“It’s so beautiful,” I say, looking at it and wanting to reach out and rub my fingers over it after I kiss it. Instead, I look up at Jacob. “I love you.”

“Okay, let’s get that covered,” Donnie says. “And, you,” he says to me, “can get into the chair.” I hand Jacob his shirt, and he goes over to Donnie, who covers it with a white bandage. “Take it off after four hours.”

“Will do,” Jacob says and puts his shirt on while Donnie comes over to me, and I turn my wrist for him.

“What color do you want?” he asks, and I look at Jacob.

“I want it to match Jacob’s,” I say, and he nods his head and goes to do something and then comes back with the tattoo gun in his hand.

“So is this your first one?” he asks, and I nod.

“Virgin skin.” He jokes with me, and I laugh anxiously. “Everyone is different,” he starts, “the pain could be through the roof or it could be nothing.”

“Okay,” I say and look over at Jacob who sits in the same chair I just sat in and holds my hand in his and kisses my fingers.

“It’s going to burn,” Donnie says, rubbing my wrist with his latex-covered hand. “Here we go.” I wince when the needle goes through my skin.

“Oh my God.” I say at the burning, but then it slowly goes down a notch. “Okay, this isn’t bad,” I say, and my eyes never move from his gun as he writes the date November thirteenth.

“There we go,” he says, wiping it for the last time. I hold it up, and it’s beautiful. He comes back over, getting it ready to be bandaged up. He wraps the white bandage around my wrist three times. “I’ll give you instructions for care,” he tells me, and I get up.

“You ready?” Jacob asks, and I nod, wearing a smile on my face so big my cheeks hurt. We say goodbye to Donnie who tells Jacob he’ll send him the bill.

Jacob’s hand goes into mine as we walk back to the truck. He opens my door, but before I climb in, he pushes me against it. His hands go to my face, and he tilts my head up, kissing me. My arms go around his neck as he kisses me senseless in the middle of the sidewalk. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” he says, and then his thumb rubs my cheek when his phone rings in his pocket. He takes it out and looks at me. “It’s Casey.”

I look at him with worry as he answers, “Yeah.” He looks at me and smirks. “She’s with me. She’s fine.” He then hands me the phone. “It’s for you.”

I shake my head and grab the phone. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself,” Casey says. “We are having lunch in twenty, and Mom wants you here.”

“Well, then,” I say, looking at Jacob, “set two more places.”

“No kissy faces at the table.” He tries to sound mad, but the snicker that comes out after ruins it. “We’ll talk when you get here.” In his true Casey self, he hangs up without saying goodbye.

“Well, then,” I say, handing the phone back to Jacob, “we are having lunch at my parents’ house.”

“Good,” he says. “About time we had the talk.”

“Wait.” My heart starts to speed up. “What talk?”

“Well, we need to tell them about Gabriel,” he says, “and then we need to tell them that we’re getting married.” He tries to walk away from me, and I grab his arm to stop him.

“We’re getting married?” I ask. My head is spinning, and just like the old Jacob, he walks back to me and grabs my face, knowing it calms me.

“I’d marry you today if you would have me,” he says softly. “So yeah, we’re getting married.”

“Jacob McIntyre,” I use his full name, “this better not be my proposal.”

He throws his head back and laughs. “On one knee,” I say, and he kisses me, “with roses.” He shakes his head and walks around the truck. “Candles.”

“Anything else?” He looks over the hood at me.

“Champagne,” I say, getting in the truck. He gets in after I close my door.

“Small wedding or big?” he asks, looking over at me.

“Small,” I say. I don’t tell him that I planned the wedding when I was sixteen. It would have been the talk of the town, but now just him there with our closest family members and friends would be perfect. Thinking about it, just the two of us would be perfect.

“Outside or inside?”

“Outside.” A picture of marrying him right under our tree by the creek flashes through my mind.

“Good to know,” he says as we turn into my parents’ driveway. He turns the car off and looks over at me. “You ready for this?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Not even close.”