“Gotcha.” He rolled to the nightstand and pulled out a roll of mints.
Laughing, she helped herself to two. “Always prepared.”
“I try.” After they’d both crunched up a few mints, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her breathless. “Thanks for staying, Ro.”
She rose onto her elbows. “Didn’t get a good look around last night.” Bigger than his last place, this low-ceilinged basement apartment had a cozy, hobbit-hole feel. “I like it.”
“Needs more color, I think.” He kissed her shoulder. “Maybe a potted palm over there. Some of those dangly mirror things above the bed.”
“Yeah?” She giggled as he nuzzled her neck.
“The light’s not great, but we could put in a strong lamp. You know, in case someone wanted to draw something.”
“Hmm—whoever could you mean?”
He rolled her onto her back and crouched over her on hands and knees. “I know it’s too soon, Ro, but with your schedule and mine, the next few years are gonna be rough. I want you here, in my bed. I want to wake up to your beautiful face and your morning breath and your luscious body. And we could make an art space just for you in the living room. I’ll put up screens and corkboard and—”
“Okay.” She wound her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. “Yes. Let’s do it.”
“Really?” He blinked as if he’d run out of words. Which was fine. They didn’t need words now. Well, maybe just a few more.
“I’m in. I love you, Eddie.”
“Thank God.” He peppered her face and chest with kisses. “I love you too, Ro.” He sucked one nipple deep, then the other, before popping up. “So, I’ve got this idea.” He lunged for the nightstand and pulled his little notebook from the drawer. “About my bar and your tattoo studio. Wanna see?”
Wrapped in Babka’s quilt and each other’s arms, they talked and laughed and spun plans—perfectly mismatched, perfectly happy, perfect together.
Epilogue
“You ready, babes?” Rosie held up the giant scissors they’d borrowed from the Chamber of Commerce. Outside, a crowd gathered on the sidewalk, waiting for them to cut the ribbon.
Eyes sparkling, Eddie grabbed her nape and kissed her silly. “I can’t believe we’re finally doing this.” She’d never seen him this wiggly with excitement—and why not? He’d earned it.
She straightened his silk tie. “Five long years. We couldn’t be more ready.”
Thanks to Uncle Pete’s help and a loan from the Seattle Russian-American Society, they’d secured the perfect spot in Tacoma’s Lincoln District, sandwiched between a Korean grocery and a Mediterranean kebab place. With the help of family and friends, their adjoining businesses, Dacha Vodka Bar and Flaming Rose Tattoo Emporium, were finally ready to welcome their first customers.
Rosie gazed around Dacha’s gleaming dark wood interior. Eddie’s Dedka had supervised while Eddie and his dad and cousins transformed the dreary cement-and-linoleum interior, hung antique frosted glass lamps, installed black and white floor tiles, and filled the mirrored bar with over one hundred vodka varieties, including rarities hard to find outside the Old Country. Adding to the speakeasy vibe, a beaded curtain hung over the connecting door to her new domain, a three-station tattoo studio. Gloria, her very own apprentice-receptionist, waited at the desk to book appointments.
Rosie gave Eddie’s ass a squeeze. He looked damned fine in the slate gray suit Uncle Pete gifted him for the occasion. The tie was her gift, printed with classic tattoo motifs.
He tugged the ribbon laces at the neck of her velvet mini dress. “You are stunning tonight, Ro.” He ran his hand up her fishnet stockings. “Love the way these look over your ink.”
“Too bad your suit hides yours.” While still not a fan of needles, he’d let her adorn his arms with a Russian bear holding a vodka bottle, as well as a rose tattoo just like one on her thigh.
He gave her a wink. “I’ll roll up my sleeves later.”
“Swoon!” She fanned herself.
Shelby stepped out of the kitchen and wiped her hands on her apron. “Just say the word and I’ll start the dumplings.”
“C’mere, Shel.” Rosie beckoned. “This is your day too. Let’s go meet and greet.”
Shelby blanched and tried to wriggle free. “No way. There’s a reporter out there. TV cameras. No me gusta.”
Eddie grasped her shoulders and fixed the jittery cook with a stern gaze. “You got this, Shel. You’re an outstanding chef, and all of Tacoma’s gonna know your name.”
Shelby huffed a few breaths and rolled her head like a prizefighter warming up. “Okay. But just five minutes.”
Eddie turned to address the servers and bartenders. “You guys ready?”
Looking dapper in a crisp dress shirt with an old-fashioned arm garter hugging his giant biceps, Jojo’s brother Kai nodded. “Bring it, boss.”
Rosie hooked her arm through Eddie’s, smooched his whiskered cheek, and called, “Drumroll, please!” While Kai and Theo, their head server, drummed on the bar, she and Eddie strode forward to greet their first customers.
Eddie flipped the sign from Closed to Open and flung open the doors, blinking into the barrage of camera flashes and cheers. He raised the giant scissors. “Ready, Ro?”
Tummy fluttering, she nodded.
Cheers erupted when he cut the red ribbon stretched across the doorway.
Clutching a bunch of mylar balloons, Dawn pushed through the crowd of well-wishers and wrapped Rosie and Eddie in a tight hug. “I’m so proud of you kids.” She doffed her Seahawks cap and rubbed her misty eyes. “Now show me your bar.”
Puffed like a proud rooster, Eddie hooked his arm through his mentor’s and led her to the bar, where Dawn oohed and ahhed over the shiny brass fittings. Meanwhile, Theo deposited Shelby’s first dumpling sampler platter on a long table they’d reserved for the Bangers crew.
Clucking like a fussy hen, River helped Charlie into a seat. Only seven months along, she looked like she was ready to pop. Rosie couldn’t wait to meet her adoptive nephew—in fact, she was putting the finishing touches on a set of onesies painted with classic tattoo designs.
“Look at this spread.” Charlie bit into a chicken-kimchee
