Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 103754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
He kisses me with the same tenderness as the caress, then whispers against my lips. “I couldn’t agree more. You ready to go?”
“Are you sick of taking photos?”
“You know me so well.” I do, like we’re two beings sharing the same soul. We were just meant for each other.
When my heels touch down again, I catch my mom hugging Lori. She turns, and when our eyes meet, she waves and blows a kiss. I wave, knowing the risk she took to be here for me on my special day.
Putting on a smile and letting it grow into a full bloom for him, I reply, “I’m ready now.”
I’ll give credit where it’s due. Lori was right. The purple dress is perfect for the reception. I went back at the last minute and bought it, and I have no regrets. Though I didn’t have time to add purple to my hair. It’s perfect for getting ramen at our favorite restaurant. We had a reservation, but we didn’t close it to Joy’s regular customers. We figure the more, the merrier. But we did pay for everyone’s meals. It was fun to create so much joy from something so little.
But sitting at the platformed center table for two just like on our first date is a highlight. Our small party of guests sat at the table next to us, and Joy assigned someone else to work for her so she could join us. She even decorated our tables with a tablecloth and cloth napkins. Keats and I don’t care about finery, but this was the perfect touch to make our evening extra special.
I capture moments of magic on my camera, taking photos of Joy laughing and the joy from others engaged in conversation. We cut the chocolate cake and feed each other the first bite before sealing it with a kiss. We’re surrounded by love and by the people who support us, root for us, and make our lives better by knowing them. We save the first dance for later, but I’m swept into his arms before we leave for our own private reception at the small apartment.
“Out of billions of souls in this universe, how lucky are we to have found our other half?” He kisses my cheek and then my neck, eliciting goose bumps up and down my arms.
Cupping the back of his neck, I wait to catch his eyes. When they’re locked together, I smile. “The luckiest of them all.” Our lips come together in a collision of soft and sweet and the need for something stronger. We resist, both of us losing our breath when we pull our mouths apart. “Let’s get out of here, Poet.”
I flip off my shoes as soon as I’m carried over the threshold. As much as I love that he wanted to do that, I wanted these toe pinchers off more. I should have chosen comfort and worn my combat boots.
I’m tugging at the zipper on the back of my dress, thinking we both had the same thing in mind—consummating this marriage. But I still my hand when I see Keats dimming the lights and then scrolling on his phone to start a playlist. It’s sweet that he wants to set the mood, but it could be noon on Broadway, and I’d want him just the same.
Opening the fridge, he pulls out a bottle of champagne. He can afford anything, but I’m glad he didn’t buy the Bollinger Special Cuvee. My dad is the last thing I want to be reminded of with him. Ugh. I scrub my brain and admire how sexy my husband is instead.
We pop the champagne, and he fills our glasses. Our gazes never lose sight of each other as we take a sip and fall into a kiss that feels like I’ve waited my whole life for. Our hands don’t grapple, and there’s no frenzy to remove clothes anymore. Just us, the two of us, swaying to the music playing in the background. And as we dance, he says, “I used to think that John Keats had it right about the unheard melodies being sweeter.” The man never misses a chance to make me fall in love all over again.
“The line we quoted when we met?”
He brushes the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip, then kisses me again. “He was wrong. We lived it, and life is definitely sweeter when we hear the music. I’d rather have you in my arms than live the rest of my life imagining what could have been.”
I couldn’t have said it better, so I leave that to the expert, and say, “You know who else got it wrong?”
“Who?”
“Professor Johns.” We call him Michael these days, but the formal name feels right if we’re traveling back to that time and place.
“How so?”
“You were never lacking authenticity. You’ve always been exactly who you are, and that’s the man I fell in love with.”