Drunk.

I had gotten rotten stinking drunk, and the hangover I would have tomorrow would be well deserved. The bottle of Jack, my second, hadn’t done a thing to dull the ache pounding behind my eyes or inside my chest. My vision was blurry as hell, which was fine by me because every time my eyes focused, they saw the airplane ticket and convention bag. Magenta had been planning to ask me to go with her.

To Toronto.

And I screwed it up.

Goddammit I screwed it up!

I should have given her more time. Been more patient. I knew she was coming around, I could feel it in the way she made love to me. The way her green eyes went soft when they looked at me. Hell, she’d even put on sexy lingerie because I wanted to see it. And she’d looked so hot, so fucking beautiful I hadn’t been able to resist taking her right there in the kitchen. And then she said it.

I love you.

That’s where the trouble began, because I freaked out and convinced myself that it was the heat of passion, the intensity of the orgasms that made her say something she otherwise wouldn’t.

Oh how fucking wrong I was.

The look on her face when she saw the divorce papers would haunt me until the day I died. Her green eyes were light and icy, barely a hint of green to be seen against the backdrop of her even paler skin. Magenta had been shocked. Gutted.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it, even when I eventually passed out on the sofa sometime after midnight. That one tear sliding down her cheek even as she fought with every ounce of willpower she had to keep the others from me, it haunted my dreams the whole wretched night.

“No,” I groaned as those images crystallized again in my mind’s eye.

“You think he’s dreaming of her?” I recognized that voice, but I couldn’t place it.

“Sounds more like a nightmare. Maybe he realizes what he’s lost.” That was Vivi. I knew her sassy tone anywhere.

One eye popped open and then the other, darting left and then right and back again, spotting two, no three figures looking down at me. “Ladies. What the hell are you doing watching me sleep?”

“Oh settle down. We’re all happily married,” Vivi said dismissively. “We’re here to help you stay that way too.”

“It’s too late.” If I’d given Magenta a few more days, maybe even a week the outcome would’ve been different. Now it was ruined.

“No, it isn’t. You’re still married and she still loves you,” Trish insisted, sounding like my own personal cheerleader.

“Did she say that?”

“Of course she didn’t,” Vivi huffed. “That’s not Magenta. She doesn’t say the words, she does the deeds. You think she tells us how she feels about us, how much she appreciated my awesome friendship? Of course she doesn’t but she is here in all the ways that matter. She buys my books and leaves reviews and sends photos of random hotties for inspiration.”

“She tells her tattoo customers that I have the exact right treat to soothe the pain from their body art,” Trish said with a smile.

Maddie sighed and grabbed my hand. “She calls sometimes just to talk to Max, treats him like their friendship is separate and he loves her for it. She buys lingerie at my shop and I don’t even think she wears it.”

Vivi laughed. “I wish I could go without a bra and look like that.” She gave her chest a little shake and the women laughed.

“No kidding. Another baby means I’ll never be able to go braless without being self-conscious about it,” Maddie admitted.

“She wears them,” I said, a little too loudly, but good lord I needed them to stop. “All of them and I thank you Maddie, from the bottom of my heart.”

“You’re welcome,” she beamed. “You have to go after her,” she insisted, her expression now fierce.

“You can fix this.” Vivi looked at me, her expression serious. “I think I know what you were trying to do but you had to know that wouldn’t work with Magenta.”

I nodded because what else could I say? “I messed up.”

“Fix it!” The echo of three determined women had me on my feet in seconds. “Keep going. Shower, we’ll take care of everything else.”

I looked at the women, faces and bodies so different but expressions now identical and shook my head. “You three are scary as hell and you have my gratitude.”

“Thank you,” Trish said, beaming a smile my way. “Now, go!”

A quick glance behind the women showed that the ticket and badge were still on the table, taunting me. But then I knew exactly what I had to do. “Thanks again, ladies.” I took off down the hall and stepped into a steaming shower, washing off the stink of booze and day old pizza. The more I thought about it, the better I felt about everything.

Ten minutes later I was dressed and ready to tackle my mental list that started with changing my flight. “You’re still here.”

Vivi rolled her eyes. “We said we would take care of everything and we have. Your flight leaves in two hours. We didn’t book you a hotel because we’re hoping you end up in Magenta’s bed.”

“And we upgraded your badge so you can go everywhere Magenta can. Good luck,” Maddie said and stepped in to wrap her arms around me, squeezing me tight.

“Thank you, Maddie. Vivi. Trish.”

“Thank us by bringing Magenta back. Happy.” That’s exactly what I wanted and I nodded, accepting the packed bag Trish held out for me. “Your passport is on top.”

“How did you find my passport?”

“All that matters is that we found it,” Vivi said with a knowing grin. “Bring us back some souvenirs. Photos of hot tattooed guys are allowed.”

These women were nutty and I could see them taking over the role played by Aunt Mae and her friends today, crazy old meddling ladies. And just as I was grateful to Aunt Mae for her interference in keeping me and Magenta married, I was grateful for their meddling.

Though I would never tell them that in a million years. A guy had to have some pride. Besides, encouraging them would only make them meddle more.

I spent most of the flight going over what I would say on the off chance Magenta let me close enough to talk to her. The other half of the flight was spent searching for thank you gifts for the ladies and by the time I landed I felt good about one of those things.

The convention center was bigger than I anticipated and I spent nearly two hours walking around the venue trying to get a glimpse of Magenta and coming up empty. There were hundreds of pale skinned women with vibrant hair and tons of tattoos and not one of them was her. Yet.

I decided to try patience, strolling up and down each aisle in hopes that I would bump into her and maybe she would smile at me. Maybe she’d even be happy to see me. By the time I made it to the far side of the convention center near the stage, I began to lose hope. She could’ve have left early or decided to go someplace else in case I followed her.

Dammit, that thought chafed.

As I drew closer to the stage the noise grew louder, the sound of people talking through microphones pulled me over to where there were TV cameras and lights set up and aimed at a stage. Finally I stood beside the stage where half a dozen artists were bent over different models, lost in their work.

Then I spotted Magenta. She was wearing her trademark black jeans and plain white tank top, black bra strap showing because she never worried about details like that. Her head was bent over the model, deep in concentration and I allowed myself to just watch her. In her element, fully focused on the task at hand, she looked even more beautiful.

A loud bell sounded and the artists lifted their heads and stepped away from the models, each of them wearing relieved smiles. I moved near where Magenta stood on stage until she saw me. “Hi.”

“Hey,” she said tentatively, gripping my shoulders when I grabbed her waist to help her off the stage. “What are you doing here?” Her eyes looked happy to see me but her body language was wary. Standoffish. From her folded arms to the skin pinched between her brows, her body language screamed “stay the hell back”.

“I came here to support my wife. And to apologize. And beg. And to tell you how much I love you, Mags.” She didn’t say anything but she hadn’t walked away yet so I kept going. “I love how pissy you are before you’ve had your first cup of coffee. I love your smart mouth and your sharp tongue too. I love how dirty your mind can be and how you’re not afraid to let me see it all. Please, just tell me it’s not too late for us.”

Magenta’s green eyes were soft and sad but otherwise I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Which I hated, but then, she smiled. “It’s not too late, Davis.” That sexy shy smile was a triple shot of tequila straight to my dick and I took a step closer, grabbing her hands in mine. “But I’m kind of in the middle of something important right now.” She pulled a hand free and slid her fingers through soft red waves with a sigh, nodding to the stage behind her.

“Of course. I just…wasn’t sure you’d want to talk to me afterwards.” She smiled softly and my heart leapt out of my chest, eager to nestle back into her delicate grip. “Good luck, Magenta.”

“Thank you, Davis. I’m glad you decided to come to Toronto.”

“Me too, babe.” She turned away and squealed when I grabbed her by the waist, helping her back on stage where the other artists had gathered with a tattooed silver haired man holding a microphone.

I watched her closely, unable to believe I’d just had her in my arms and she hadn’t kicked me in the nuts or told me to get the hell away from her. Yet. It wasn’t quite the reunion I was hoping for on the plane ride from Belle Musique, but I had one thing going for me.

The night wasn’t over yet.