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them.”
    “Oh.” Carrie rubbed her aching
eyes. They had talked about Key West, but they hadn’t made any decisions.
Apparently, Nan had made the decision for them.
    “Is Stephen there?” Nan was the
only one who ever called Doc by his given name. Even his father called him
“Doc.”
    “Hold on.” It was far easier to
hand Nan over to her son.
    He tried to push the phone away,
but Carrie wouldn’t let him, forcing it to his ear.
    “Hi, Mom.” His voice was far
clearer than her own. “What’s up?”
    Carrie pulled her pillow over her
head, listening to him “mm-hmm” his mother until the end of the conversation.
    “Okay, Mom, sounds good. Love you
too. Bye.” Doc dropped the phone on the bed with a groan and Carrie scrambled
for it, hanging it up before her mother-in-law could listen in on their
conversation. She loved Nan, but she knew better than to share everything with
her. Hangovers didn’t go over too well with parents, even when the children
were technically adults.
    “Let me guess.” Carrie shoved her
head back under her pillow. “We’re going to Key West?”
    “Don’t you want to go?”
    She sighed. “Oh I don’t know…”
    “I think it will be good for us.”
Doc’s hand moved over his wife’s lower back, massaging.
    She poked her head out, opening
one eye. “Do you?”
    “We need a vacation.” He smiled,
sliding his hand over the curve of her behind. “Maybe we can recharge our
batteries.”
    “Are yours so weak?” she teased.
    “Let’s find out.” He slipped his
hand between her legs, seeking heat.
    She scissored her legs closed,
groaning. “Oh god, no, I can’t even think about it. My head is swimming.”
    Doc chuckled. “You can thank the
tequila.”
    “I’m going to stay in bed all
day.” She grabbed for the comforter, curling onto her side and settling in.
    “Can’t,” Doc said regretfully.
“We promised Wilson we would go get a tattoo with him today, remember?”
    “Today!” She covered her eyes
with her hand, shaking her head, which was a mistake, because her brain rattled
around inside her skull, sending sharp pains down her neck.
    He laughed, getting out of bed.
“Well I didn’t know you were going to be hung over, or I’d have rescheduled.”
    “Oh god, Doc, I can’t possibly.”
She peeked out at him, pleading.
    “I’ll make you my hangover
special.” He sat next to her on the edge and kissed her cheek.
    “It will make me puke.”
    “Yep.” He grinned. “You’ll either
puke or be cured. Either way, you’ll feel better.”
     
     

Chapter Three
    “Chicken.” Doc poked Carrie in
the ribs but she shook her head stubbornly, crossing her arms and watching as
Wilson’s left bicep bloomed with blood and ink. The image was taking form, a
serpent wrapping around his arm, over his shoulder, and across his back. He’d
had work done on it before and this was the final visit.
    “So I changed my mind. It’s a
woman’s prerogative, isn’t it?”
    She sat on one of the stools, too
tired to keep standing. Her head had finally cleared, after Doc made her drink
a horrible concoction—whiskey, coffee, Tabasco sauce, a raw egg and cracked
pepper, mixed in a glass of orange juice—and as she’d predicted, she had thrown
it up. But then she’d felt a little better, especially after four Advil and
about a gallon of water. But she still had that residual kind of haze in her
head, like it was wrapped in gauze.
    “You said you were gonna get my
name tattooed over your heart.” Doc poked her again, this time in the chest,
and Carrie stuck her tongue out at him.
    “A tattoo is forever,” Wilson
reminded them, smiling at their banter.
    “Which is why it’s not such a
good idea to get anyone’s name tattooed anywhere.” The tattoo artist had
clearly gone against his own advice—he had three names in a connecting heart on
his forearm. But he explained that away almost immediately. “Unless it’s your
kids, of course.” He pointed to his arm.