“See ya, Ev,” I tell her as she gets out of the car on Monday morning to head into school.

“Bye, Evlee,” Emersyn chimes in after me. Looking in the rearview mirror, she’s smiling brightly at her big sister.

Everly waves as she shuts the door. Emersyn’s smile drops, being replaced with a scowl as she looks at me in the mirror. Oh, she’s going to be a handful today. She crosses her arms, as if confirming my thoughts.

“I’m not going back to daddy’s.”

“Em,” I say in a pacifying voice.

“I’m. Not.” Her head cocks, challenging me, and if we weren’t in a car, in the school carpool lane, I’d . . .

My train of thoughts are interrupted by the ringing of my phone. Grabbing it from the console, I answer. “Hello?”

“Where you at?” I’m taken aback for all of two-seconds before that rough voice registers. “You there?”

“Yeah, Chance. Hey.” Why on earth is he calling me at 7:30 in the morning?

“Hey, back at ya. Now tell me where the fuck you are.”

“I just dropped Everly off at school. I’m about to go back to the apartment.” Is he trying to piss me off?

“Scratch those plans. Come to Wicked,” he demands.

“Wicked?” What’s that and where?

“Yeah, Wicked Ink. Shawn’s tattoo studio. Ring any bells?” He sounds annoyed that I don’t know.

“Yes.” I bite out through closed teeth. The nerve of his attitude. Jeez. “I just didn’t know that was the name.”

“One week with your memories back, and you still don’t know jack shit.” It’s not a question. And he’s lucky Emersyn isn’t in hearing range right now or I’d give him an earful.

“It hasn’t been officially one week until about midnight tonight, A-hole.”

“A-hole? Really, Whit?”

“My three-year-old is in the back seat listening to every word coming out of my mouth. I’m thanking myself for not putting you on the car speaker.”

“Whatever. Just get down here.”

“I don’t know where ‘here’ is.” Or why he’s in Mississippi.

“I’ll text you the address. Better see you in forty-five minutes, Bitch.” He hangs up without another word, and within a couple of seconds a text message comes through my phone.

Oh, he’s going to see me all right. He’ll be lucky if I don’t kick him in the junk too.

An hour and a half later, after a pee-stop, and then poop-stop ten minutes after the pee-stop, we arrive at Wicked Ink. It’s a tattoo shop in a building that could easily pass for a medical or even a dental clinic. If it weren’t for the large sign over the front, covered awning, I’d never think this was a tattoo parlor. There are no neon signs that I’ve often seen flashing, “TATTOO” anywhere in sight.

“Unbuckle kiddo and get out.”

“Where we at, Momma?” Her attitude is nowhere in sight now, making me sigh in relief.

“Where are we, Momma,” I correct. Jesus, sometimes I think I’m raising a redneck. And I have no idea how. I don’t talk like that. Her sister doesn’t, and Blake certainly doesn’t.

Ugh, Blake. I haven’t missed the snide little comments he used to say when she started speaking either. Emersyn’s voice even has a twang to it that no one in mine or Blake’s family have.

“You remember Shane’s brother Shawn, right?”

“Yep. He’s pretty.” I burst out in laughter. Shit, that’s funny. Sure, Shawn is good-looking in a brooding slash meanie kind of way. But I would never put the word ‘pretty’ in context when describing Shane’s brother.

“What’s funny, Momma?”

“Nothing, Baby. Let’s go.”

She beats me to the front door. It’s wooden, with frosted glass in the top half with “WICKED INK” etched in all caps and the business hours in smaller, lowercase writing underneath.

“It won’t open.” She huffs out.

“I got it,” I say, coming up behind her and pushing the heavy door open. She jets inside, obviously excited.

I spot both of them over to the left after walking past what I’m guessing is a receptionist’s area up front. The room is open and large, containing workstations on each side of the room. There’s no one else but Shawn and Chance in sight. Chance is perched against a large mirror and Shawn’s sitting on a stool, leaning back against a tattooing table. They’re talking, but I’m not close enough to hear their conversation.

“Hey guys, what’s up,” I say, walking up.

“What are you doing here?” Shawn twists his head, asking with surprise laced in his voice.

“Shawny.” Emersyn singsongs before launching herself at him. He catches her midair.

“Hey, Em.” He chuckles as he wraps his large arms around her in a hug, a smile tugging at his lips.

“We come to see you.”

“Y’all did not come to see him?” Chance scowls at my three-year-old. “Y’all came to see me.”

Emersyn twists around in Shawn’s arms, but he doesn’t let her go. Her face lights up as if just noticing Chance for the first time. “You’re friends with Ariel.”

“If by Ariel you mean Evie, then yes, sugar, I’m friends with her.”

“She looks like Ariel,” she states, as if disputing Eve’s name.

Ignoring her statement, Chance asks, “Do you not remember my name, Emersyn Rose?” She shakes her head. “Guess memory loss runs in the family.” For that, I kick his boot. He only shrugs, then pushes off the wall. After ruffling Emersyn’s curls, he turns, grabbing me by the arm without saying a word and pulls me toward the opposite wall.

“Why am I here?” I ask when he lets go.

“Hop up there.” He nods toward the tattoo table, ignoring my question.

I do as he asks but question again once I’m settled. “Why am I here, Chance?” He holds up a sheet of paper. “What’s that?”

“This is your new tattoo. Look.”

“Flowers?” I question.

I’m more girly now than I was in high school, but I still don’t care for flowers, albeit really pretty flowers. They’re a vibrant blue and the artwork is incredibly detailed.

“They’re Forget Me Nots.”

“They’re pretty.” And they’re familiar looking.

“They mean undying love—which you and Shane obviously have.” He stares at me, giving me the impression he has more to say. “And they match your boy’s flowers on his side. But most importantly, they are Forget Me Nots, meaning, don’t fucking forget me not, ever fucking again, bitch.”

“Language!” I bark.

“I expect that out of Shane. Not you, mouthy.”

“Wait till you have kids.”

“Kids aren’t on my agenda. Ever.” I raise an eyebrow. “Kids are cute. Yours seem kind of cool, but I don’t care for them full-time.”

“What about you?” I turn my head to the side, eyeing Shawn as he and my child walk over.

“I’m just trying to keep my girlfriend as my girlfriend. Whatever comes later comes, just as long as it involves her.”

“You know, I hear if you don’t fuck up in the first place then you don’t have to worry about that shit.” Chance relays.

Shawn grits his teeth but doesn’t comment on Chance’s jab. Shane finally got to apologize to his brother Friday night when Shawn called him, and I’m glad they patched things up.

I turn my attention back to Chance, wanting to get the subject off Shawn. His relationship with Taralynn is obviously a sore spot for him. It’s easy to see how much he regrets what he did to her earlier this year.

“Who says I want that tattoo?”

“Oh, you’re getting this inked on.” He holds up the transfer paper, waving it in the air. “Today. I’ll strap you down and get Shawn to hold your foot still for me.” I scowl at him even though I really sorta want the tattoo now that I know the meaning—because that’s what Shane and I have. “I know you, Whit. You’re impatient. You’ll decide you want a tat on the spur of the moment and I won’t be here. You’ll get him to do it.” He points to Shawn. “And he won’t say no.” Shawn smiles, confirming everything Chance has just said.

“You know.” I pause, looking him dead in the eyes. “I don’t remember you being the whiny, bitchy one of the group. Is my memory still jacked up?”

“Momma, that’s a bad word.” Emersyn’s eyebrows are drawn together, and her face is conveying the same stern look I give when she’s done something wrong.

“Yes.” Chance confirms. “Yes, Momma. That’s a bad, very bad word. Good job, Shirley Temple.”

“Who’s Shirley Temple?”

“Someone I’m sure your mom is super happy to introduce you too.”

Eww. I hate old movies. And by the smirk pouring off Chance’s face, he knows this too.

Bastard.

At least he’s a bastard that obviously cares about me. The tattoo is proof of that. I saw when he was here a few weeks ago that me not remembering him hurt deeply.

I’m grateful my memory has finally returned and I have a lot of years to make up with the few people I care about. He’s one of them, so if this tattoo is something he needs, then I’m willing to get it placed on my body for forever. It’s a bonus that Shane has the same flowers on him too.

“Fine. Let’s do this!” I swear his eyes dilate but he blinks, and they’re back to normal. “I have one alteration though.” And it’s a must. Shane has my name inked on his body, so I want his on mine. I think weaving it into the flowers will look badass and pretty at the same time.

Holy shit! I’m getting a tattoo.

* * *

By the time Wednesday rolls around, I’m a nervous wreck. On top of court this afternoon, I can’t get in to see my doctor until next week, all because she won’t call in a prescription until she makes me take a pregnancy test. For the love of fucking God, it’s just drawing blood for crying out loud. It shouldn’t require an office visit with the actual doctor. A nurse can do it and have it tested. Surely, they can.

My foot taps on the marble floor as I wait for Jacob to arrive. The hearing is scheduled for ten minutes from now, and I’d thought he would have been here by now. Luckily, I’m saved from more thoughts plaguing my mind by the ringing of my cell phone. After digging it out of my purse, I answer just after catching Eve’s name across the screen before bringing it to my ear. “Hello?”

“If you fuck a dildo made in China, does that mean you fucked a Chinese cock?” I’m stunned silent. This cannot be a legit question. But then I remember the crazy crap she used to spout all the time when we were good friends. Not that we aren’t good friends now but . . . are we? The question stops me. “Well?” She prompts.

“Umm . . . I think no matter how you look at it, it’s still a fake dick.”

“Fake dick or not, it’s still a Chinese fake dick, right? I’ve never fucked someone Chinese. Work with me here, Whitney. I want to be able to say I’ve fucked Chinese cock now.”

“Okay, you’ve fucked a Chinese cock.”

Exactly how many different nationalities has she slept with? The thought pricks my mind. We’re the same age. Scratch that, she’s five months older than me. She’s already twenty-nine. But still . . .

“Good. Now”—her voice turns sweeter—“how do you like your first tat? And when are we getting another one?”

“I like it just fine and I,” again stress the ‘me’ in this conversation, “am just fine with the one.”

“For now,” she draws out. “Whatcha doing?”

“Waiting for Taralynn’s dad to show.”

“Ah,” her voice turns flat. “Court, right?”

“Yep.” Shane must have told her, because this is the first time I’ve spoken to her since she was here. I feel guilty for not calling her or Kylie when my memory returned. Over time I thought about doing it, but I felt awkward. Yet, I don’t feel that way now. Maybe it was all in my head.

“Don’t sweat it, Whit. You remember now. Everything is going to work out. I know it will.”

“You have more confidence than I do.” I slump back against the wooden bench I’m sitting on.

“You don’t take shit from anyone. You don’t settle for less than what you want. You remember that person, right?”

“Yeah, but—” She cuts me off.

“Stop that train of thought right now. You don’t take what they are giving lying down. Don’t like it? Fight it. Fight it until that little girl of yours is grown if you have to. But you fight.”

We’re both silent, giving me time to think about what she has said. She’s right. One hundred percent she is right. The person I was before. The teenager I was would have fought tooth and nail and then fought more.

“That motherfucker better hope I never catch him in a dark ally,” she follows up with.

“Thanks, Eve.” I smile for the first time today.

“For what?”

“For being you. For calling me. I miss you.” Tears suddenly prick my eyes, catching me off guard.

“I’ve missed you too. For a long time, but I don’t have to anymore. You’re back.”

“Yes, I am.” I breathe seeing Shawn walking down the hall toward me. “Eve, I gotta run. Talk later?”

“Yeah. Go rip those fuckers a new one. Bye, babe.”

“Bye.” I hang up as Shawn reaches me. “What are you doing here?”

“Was in the neighborhood.”

I raise my eyebrow. “Shane asked you to come?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Jacob mentioned it when I spoke to him an hour ago, and I know my brother’s schedule, so I knew he wouldn’t be able to be here. Figured you could use support.”

“So we’re friends?” I ask, not doubting that truth for a second.

“No. We’re family.” The look he’s giving me tells me he means every word. And it eases some of my nerves.

Footsteps catch my attention, making me look past him, seeing Jacob heading in our direction. His expression doesn’t give me any indication if I should be worried or not. I’m worried no matter what. Even at best, it’ll still be a month before a divorce would be finalized. And after that . . . he’ll still be a part of my life until Emersyn is an adult and even then, he’ll be a part of her life until he dies. Life isn’t fair.

“Let’s do this,” is all he says as he walks past us and into the courtroom to my left.

I huff, letting out a frustrated breath.

“You got this, Whitney,” Shawn reassures me, holding out his hand for me to take.

“I hope so.” But I don’t feel one once of those words.

* * *

I honestly don’t know what to do with myself. Or how to contain every emotion that’s been coursing through my body for the last three days. Joy. Relief. Excitement for the future. None of that even begins to skim the surface of the happiness I feel inside.

Shawn held my hand every minute I sat inside that courtroom listening to the judge, to Blake and his lawyer, to Jacob. There was yelling. There was a lot of pounding from the judge’s gavel.

Yet, there was mostly silence from me. I think I was in shock. I think I’m still in shock.

The judge, Kenneth McDonald—not the former judge we had last month—wanted to grant me an annulment. He said that wasn’t an option and my stomach pummeled at that moment. A tiny part of me had hoped; had prayed. But he did refuse Blake’s motion for marriage counseling and then his objection to the divorce altogether.

And in surprising events, he overturned the joint custody ruling the previous judge awarded Blake, saying he was appalled the previous judge even thought such a thing was acceptable. He even mentioned bringing the man’s ethics up to the Tennessee State Bar Association or something like that. Yeah, those were the words he used.

So, as it stands now, I’ll be officially divorced in ninety days. Three months and I’ll be free to move forward with my future. With Shane. And I have full custody of Emersyn. Blake can see her with supervised visits.

I swear I wanted to laugh in his face. I wanted to do more, but everything else would have been illegal.

So today, on the following Saturday, we are celebrating Everly’s tenth birthday. A party would have been out of the question with Blake.

God, I disgust myself thinking back on the last ten years. I let him rule my life—every decision. I was weak, and for the life of me, it doesn’t make sense. I’ve never been a weak person. At least before I lost my memory I wasn’t. I allowed him and my parents to dictate everything and I didn’t balk at much of anything.

“Momma,” Everly squeaks, bringing me out of my thoughts. She grabs onto my forearm and squeezes. “Can I open my presents now?” The excitement in her voice both thrills me and makes me aware of everything she’s missed out on.

Neither my girls or I am expected to act a certain way. It’s obvious to me that Shane and his family love us just for being us.

“Yes. Where’s your dad?”

Dad. My soul feels that word, and it loves it. Hearing her say it makes that feeling soar.

She lets go of me, turning and yelling for Shane. “Daddy.” She runs off calling him again.

It’s a wonder how easily that word rolls off her tongue. It’s as though she was meant to say it. And I guess she was. But only to Shane.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Everly this happy and relaxed. She and I haven’t had one argument since we left Blake’s home. I call it that because that’s exactly what it was. It was never ours. We were never meant to be there.

Then at that thought, guilt slips in. Had things not happened the way they did I wouldn’t have Emersyn. I’d probably have another kid or maybe more, but not her. And I can’t imagine my life without her in it.

I still wish I hadn’t lost years with Shane, but dwelling on the “what ifs” are pointless and only takes away more time that I would be spending with my family now. My new family. My real family: Shane, our girls, his parents, Shawn and Taralynn, Chance and Eve, Kylie, Jacob even, and anyone else that comes along. Because I see a big family in our future.

“Hey, Babe.” I look up. Shane is leaning inside the door.

We’re at his parents celebrating Everly’s birthday, and there are so many people here that I don’t know half of them. I think most work with either Shane’s parents or with him at the Children’s Hospital in Memphis. Gavin, I do remember him from the Halloween party. That was the night that changed my kids and my life forever—for the better.

“Yeah?”

“Come on. She’s ready to unwrap all her gifts.”

“Y’all are going to spoil her with the amount of presents in your parents’ living room.”

For that, he laughs. “Well, you can thank my brother for at least half of them. Hell, a quarter of them I think are for Emersyn. I’m hoping Ev doesn’t get her feelings hurt over that.”

“She won’t,” I assure him. Knowing Everly, she’d let her sister open all of them.

I’m lucky in the children department. I don’t have siblings, and from what I remember of Shane and Shawn when they were this age, the younger sibling isn’t treated as nicely as the way Everly treats Emersyn.

I’m not sure yet if that’s a good thing or a bad one. Only time will tell I guess.

“I’m coming.” I stand, making my way toward him. He bends down, pulling me into his chest and planting a chaste kiss on my lips.

“I love you, Love,” he tells me, pulling away, as he stands to his full height.

“Back at you.” I jump, smacking his lips with mine once again before bypassing him toward the rest of the party.

Scooping down to the ground, I grab a beer from an ice chest, pulling an extra one out for Shane. Standing, I hand it to him, then turn toward the room where everyone is watching Everly and Emersyn sit down onto the floor near the fireplace where all the gifts are piled on top of the hearth.

“Okay, Everly, your parents finally decided to join us”—the room erupts into laughter at Shane’s dad, jab at us being the last to make it to the living room—“you can open your presents.”

“Presents.” Emersyn jumps up and down. After the fourth jump, she loses her balance and falls into her sister. Everly pulls her into a seated position on her lap. And as I predicted, she lets her sister rip open the gifts.

After ten minutes of “oohs” and “ahhs,” she gets to her last present. Noticing the look on Shane’s face—a smile so big I want to bottle it up so I can open it every single day for the rest of my life—I smile too, facing him as he watches her.

Her gasp breaks my stare. I look over to see what he’s gotten her and my mouth drops. And not in a good way, either.

A phone?

My head whips over to Shane. He’s not paying me the least bit of attention. All eyes, especially his, are on Everly. He’s thrilled she likes it and it shows. Of course she likes it. What kid wouldn’t like a brand-new iPhone? Hell, any phone.

Heat breaks out across my face, cascading down my neck. I have to get out of this room.

And I do. I fly out of the room so fast I almost trip over my feet.

What the mother fuck was he thinking? A phone?

I had to leave. If I hadn’t, I would have made a scene. Everly doesn’t need that. His parents don’t either. I’m not ungrateful for what they’ve done today, and I’m not about to lose my shit in front of them and all their friends.

But my God! A phone?

The more I think about it the madder I get. She’s ten. She’s in third grade for Pete’s sake. She’s a child. She doesn’t need a phone.

This is crazy. This is absurd.

“Whitney?” His cautious voice causes me to whip around. “What’s wrong?”

As if he has to ask. It should be obvious. Why the fuck isn’t it obvious?

“You got her a phone?” I blurt out, producing a surprised look on his face.

“Yeah. I did.” He quickly defends himself.

“Are you . . . insane? She’s ten.”

His eyes cast down for a mere second before he stalks closer toward me.

When he reaches me, Shane’s fingers clasp around my upper arm. “Let’s talk upstairs.” Then he’s gently pulling me toward our bedroom.

I love this man, but this is ridiculous. Seriously, he has to see the logic.

I look over my shoulder right before he reaches the hall. Everly is scowling at me as if she knows exactly why I’m upset. Everyone else seems oblivious.

Entering Shane’s old bedroom, he lets my arm go then shuts the door and leans back against it.

I cross my arms. “Don’t you think that was something we should have discussed before you got my daughter a phone?”

Fuck. As soon as the words come out of my mouth, I regret them.

“Your daughter?” His anger erupts as I cringe inside. Shit. Shit. Shit. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. “She’s our daughter, Whitney. When are you going to see that?”

“I see it.” I blow out a long stream of air. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it sound like she isn’t yours too. I just . . . Fuck, Shane. Come on. She’s ten years old.” I run my fingers through my hair in frustration.

“Look, you’re right. We should have talked about it, but . . .” He pauses as he steps toward me. “I need the peace of mind knowing I can reach her whenever I want. And when she isn’t with me, when she’s at school or at my parents, or wherever, I can look on an app on my phone to see where she is. It was either that or get an actual GPS device placed on her body. I figured maybe that was extreme, okay.”

“Extreme? They’re both extreme. Where do you think she’s going?”

He grits his teeth. He’s mad. Great. Just fucking great. I’m the one that has the right to be pissed, and it’s all his doing.

“I can’t fucking believe you right now.”

“Well, fucking believe it, baby,” he throws right back at me, pissing me off even more.

“Is this how it’s going to be? You make all the decisions and piss on what I want or think?” I know he wouldn’t. Even I think it’s stupid after the words have left my mouth, but I can’t help them. I won’t go back to the way my life was with Blake. I won’t allow someone else to dictate everything. I won’t fall in line ever again.

My chest rises, not backing down from my question. It’s shitty. I know it’s shitty, but he didn’t consult me. A phone is a huge decision. And not one that should have been made without us talking about it.

“You’re making a big deal out of something that isn’t a big deal.”

“And you didn’t answer my question.”

“It was a stupid question, and you know it. If you think I’m going to stop calling you on your shit, you’re wrong. If you think I’m going to make major decisions without you, you’re wrong.” He holds up his hand just as my mouth opens to speak. “Yes, I should have talked to you about it. But I didn’t. It’s done, Whitney. Let’s move on from it. From here on out, we’ll talk about things we want the girls to have and do.” He shuts up, clearly waiting for my response. A response I don’t give, so he prompts me. “Okay?”

My silence continues. Mainly because I know deep down he’s right, but I’m too stubborn to admit I might have overreacted.

“Whitney,” he warns.

“Kiss off.” And with that, I push past him, open the door, and walk out like the petulant child I’m acting.

A goddamn phone. Jesus fucking Christ. What’s next?