Reckless Regrets
Chapter 79

Morgan

“It’s pulsing! I swear you can measure my heart rate if you touch this thing!” I yelled at Kade as he cleaned off my newly tattooed thigh. Why I’d chosen to do this was slipping my mind at that moment, and I swore my entire leg was going to fall the hell off.

“Sugar, it’s fine. You’re not bleeding, and the skin isn’t even irritated. Just make sure you wear loose-fitting clothes for a week or two and don’t sleep on this side; it looks sick as hell though, Olivier is an ink master,” Kade excitedly chirped.

I looked down and had to admit that he was right. Olivier has copied the picture I’d taken entirely, down to deep blue of Kade’s eyes, and the few locks of hair that hung before them. But what got me the most was the tattoos. Olivier had perfectly replicated the ink that showed on Kade’s arms and neck and put them into my piece so well; it was almost three dimensional. Besides the pain, I had no complaints about the outcome; it was better than I could have imagined.

After I was cleaned, sanitized, and lightly wrapped in gauze, Kade kissed my exposed skin and smiled at me. “I can’t believe you did this, Sugar. I know that you love me, but getting another person inked on your body is so major, I never expected you to do it; tats just didn’t seem like your thing.”

“Like a lot of people, I’ve thought about getting one, but I never had something that I just loved so much that I wanted it forever branded on my body. Until I met you and saw how much thought and effort went into yours. They tell a story, and this picture of my husband drawing his next tattoo of me while he sits alone in a park in Paris on our honeymoon is the best story for me to start my ink journey,” I replied.

“Are you going to do more?” he asked with a big smile.

“I can’t say for sure right now; this one still hurts like hell, so I can’t commit to this level of pain again at the moment.”

“How did the princess do? Did the pain cause her any problems?”

“She slept almost the entire time; she didn’t wake up until we got hungry.”

“Speaking of that, I ordered us some pizza that should be delivered soon. I figured you’d want to chill out tonight and get back action tomorrow morning.”

“That’s perfect. The pain is getting better with whatever you just rubbed on here, but I wouldn’t be up to walking around outside right now. And if someone bumped into my leg, I’m positive that I’d die.”

“Then I’d go on that murdering spree that I told you we need to avoid to make Cameron officially ours, so for the sake of our family, pizza, and a movie.”

We curled up on the couch under a thick blanket and flipped through Hulu until we found some corny low budget comedy that was just funny enough to keep our attention while we waited for our dinner to arrive. When it did, Kade took the box to the kitchen then yelled out a few seconds later. “What kind of weird-a*s s**t is this?’”

I walked to the small kitchenette and peeked over Kade’s shoulder into the pizza box. It had a perfectly baked golden-brown crust, loads of yummy melty cheese, and a raw runny egg cracked on top. More raw food; I couldn’t even try to hide the laughter this time; I snorted directly in Kade’s ear then had to hold on to the counter to keep myself upright. Why was this happening to him?

“This isn’t funny, Morgan. You can’t eat a raw egg, it’s not good for the baby, and I flat out don’t want to. What the hell?”

“Why don’t you try it? I hear eggs are like parsley in France; it’s a garnish. You might like it; if not, we can cut around it and just eat the non-eggy parts,” I suggested.

Kade looked at me skeptically and shook his head. He was such a picky eater; he was worst than a child sometimes. I gently nudged him aside and took a slice from the box and held it to his lips. “Taste it, babe; you’ll never know if you don’t try. And besides, an entire country of people eat their pizza this way so it can’t be that bad,” I reasoned.

“But, what’s wrong with pepperoni? Or I’d even accept pineapples, but not an egg.”

“Eat this pizza, Kaden. Try something new, right now,” I demanded. Kade raised an eyebrow and smirked before opening his mouth and taking a bite. I could tell that his first reaction was to hate it, it was way out of his comfort zone, and he was ready to call it quits, but he kept chewing. “How is it?” I finally asked.

“Don’t tell anyone back home, but that might just be the best bite of pizza I’ve ever tasted in my life. And the cheese is out of this world. Wow,” he said as he lifted my hand up again and took another huge mouthful. I smiled then went to work replaceing myself a couple of eggless slices so that I too could experience, at least in part, what he was. Kade had finished off his piece and was moving on to a second before I got to taste it, but when I did finally take that first cautious nibble, I was blown away.

I laughed and slapped him on the back. “It looks like you’re picking our food now, you know where they’re keeping the good stuff.”

***

Kade

Our days in Paris flew by and were full of plenty of laughs and love as we celebrated the beginning of our marriage. As promised, we FaceTimed Cameron daily and had the best time listening to him explain how his day had been. For someone who hadn’t even started kindergarten, he seemed to always have something significant going on, or he was just a super dramatic storyteller. Either way, he made sure we knew it all.

The day before we were scheduled to head back home, I woke up to the smell of breakfast cooking and walked to the kitchen to replace Morgan pulling a large tray of croissants from the oven while she cooked bacon, eggs, and sliced fruit. “Hey, Sugar, do you need help with anything?” I asked. She’d clearly been at it for a while, and although I could tell she had a nice rhythm going, I didn’t want her overdoing it.

“I just need you to taste one of these. It’s my first attempt at croissants outside of the classes you got for me, and I’m nervous. I want to try adding flavors like chocolate or strawberry and sell them at the bakery, but I’ve got to perfect the basics first,” she stated.

“Chocolate croissants? That would make your customers go crazy; I love that idea.”

I took a croissant and sat it on a saucer to cool, then helped Morgan finish slicing the melons and berries she was working on. I wasn’t a professional in the kitchen, but I was able to handle simple tasks that she gave me here and there. It was fun to cook with her and watch how much she loved to bake. Morgan was made for this type of thing, and I was happy to watch her come into her own.

After a few minutes, I ripped a chunk of the croissant off and popped it into my mouth. It was warm, flaky, buttery, and seemed to melt as soon as it touched my tongue. In short, it was the best pastry I’d even had, and that included all the treats she’d made since we’d found each other. “It’s perfect. Flaky and chewy, while slightly sweet with a bit of saltines. You should definitely add this to the lineup,” I advised.

She took a bite herself and jumped up and down on her toes. “Yes! Jean Louise shared his secret recipe with me that his family had been using for decades, and I’m so glad it turned out alright. I would have been so hurt if I hadn’t have been able to do them justice,” she replied.

“Jean Louise? Who’s that, and what makes him so willing to share family secrets?” I jealously asked.

“He’s the chef that you paid to give me classes, and he saw my passion for baking and wanted to help it grow. This was just one pastry chef passing the torch to another. He’s also close to seventy.”

“Oh, then that’s cool.” I was confident in our relationship 100%, but a man who could connect with her through her passion for baking could make his way into her heart if that were what he wanted. I wasn’t going to stand for it; no one would taste my sugar but me.

Morgan smiled and took my hand, leading me to the patio table. “Sit down and relax. I’ll finish up and bring your plate out to you.” I did as I was told and just watched the skyline that I, too, had fallen in love with. We’d been to all of the big tourist spots and more than a few hidden gems along the way. We’d even taken in a show at the Moulin Rouge that Morgan couldn’t get enough of. It was a perfect trip, and more importantly, my wife enjoyed every moment of it with me.

Morgan returned a few minutes later and sat while we ate and discussed our plans for our final day. I’d decided that I would have to bring her back, and the kids too. Paris had energized and rejuvenated her in a way that I’d never seen before, and I’d happily take that flight whenever she wanted if she felt that she needed to come back to sharpen her skills or just to relax. Whatever she wanted, I would do; all she had to do was ask.