New Orleans, LA
1:57 PM
Anastacia's POV
I should've known something was up the moment Odell started following me around the house like a six-foot-tall shadow.
I'm sorting laundry when I feel him behind me, hovering. Not touching—just radiating heat at my back like he's trying to melt me into agreement with whatever is in his head.
"Baby," he says, voice way too smooth for it to be innocent.
"No," I answer automatically.
He laughs, low and amused. "You don't even know what I'm askin'."
"That's exactly why I said no."
He steps closer, his hands sliding around my waist, chin resting on my shoulder. "C'mon, Ana. Hear me out."
I turn in his arms, suspicious. "Odell... what did you do?"
"Nothing." His eyes sparkle. "Yet."
"Odell."
"Okay, okay," he says, guiding me toward the couch like he's afraid I'll run away. "Just sit. Let me show you something."
I sigh dramatically but sit anyway. He pulls out his phone, opens a picture, and then hands it to me with the excitement of a kid showing off a science project.
It's a tattoo design.
Small. Clean. Beautiful.
Two interlocking initials—O and A—with a tiny crown above the A.
I blink. "Odell..."
He beams. "Matching tats."
My stomach flips. Not in the cute way. In the panicked, bury-me-under-a-pillow way.
"I don't know," I whisper.
His smile falters, but he doesn't let it drop completely. "Talk to me."
I chew my lip, trying to find the right words. "I already have tattoos, and I'm not afraid of needles, it's not that. It's just..." I exhale shakily.
"What if something happens? What if—God forbid—we don't work out someday? Then I'll have this permanent reminder of us and—"
Odell grabs my chin gently, forcing me to meet his eyes. Those warm brown eyes that always look like they hold storms and softness at the same time.
"Ana. Stop."
"I'm just being realistic."
"No," he says firmly, sliding closer. "You're being scared. And I get it, but that ain't us. You hear me?" His voice drops lower. "That's not ever gonna be us."
I swallow. "You don't know the future."
He stares at me for a long second, jaw tightening—not in anger, but in conviction.
"Yeah, I do." His thumb traces my cheek. "I look at you, and I see my whole damn future. I see you in my house, in my bed, in my life, years and years from now." His hand moves to my waist, pulling me onto his lap without asking. "You think I'd ask for matching ink if I ever doubted us for a second?"
I feel his breath against my neck—warm, steady, too sincere.
"But what if—"
"No." His arms lock around me, possessive and soft all at once. "I'm not allowin' you to talk yourself into some imaginary breakup."
His lips brush my ear. "You're mine. You're my wife. You're my forever. That's the whole point of the tattoo."
My heartbeat stutters.
He keeps going, voice a velvet promise.
"I want something on my skin that's yours. And I want something on yours that's mine. A mark that says—even when we're old and wrinkled as hell—we chose each other."
I whisper, "You're obsessed with me."
He smirks, unapologetic. "Damn right I am." His hand curls in my hair. "Have you seen you? I'm lucky every day you didn't realize you could do better."
"Odell."
"I'm serious." His forehead presses against mine. "If anyone should be scared, it's me. Scared you'll wake up and realize I'm just some dude with curls and attitude. But I don't let that fear run me. Because loving you is the only thing I am one hundred percent sure about."
My chest tightens—in that warm, painful way that makes your eyes sting.
"So," he says softly, almost teasing, "you gon' trust me?"
I hate how easily he breaks down my walls.
I love how easily he breaks down my walls.
I breathe out, slow. "Show me the design again."
His whole face lights up like I handed him a Super Bowl ring.
He holds the phone out. I trace the lines lightly with my finger. "It is beautiful..." I admit.
"Just like you," he murmurs, kissing my shoulder.
"Okay," I say finally, heart pounding. "Let's do it."
Odell freezes. "For real? You sayin' yes?"
I nod.
He lifts me off his lap and spins me before I can protest, laughing like an idiot. "My wife said YES to my tattoo! I knew you loved me too much to fight me on this forever."
"I didn't say forever."
"You meant forever."
I hide my smile in his chest.
His arms tighten around me instantly... like he thinks if he lets go, the world will tilt off its axis.
Maybe he's right.
Maybe my world would.
But I stay right where I am—wrapped in him, claimed by him, marked by him even before the ink touches my skin.
