Turning Thirty-Twelve

by James, Sandy

  I nodded back as I threaded my arm through Patrick’s and let him lead me to my groom.

  Kathy took her place at Mark’s left, looking spectacular in her red dress. Nate stood at her side. Patrick and Carly would be my attendants. It made a nice little mix for the new family we were creating.

  Mark took my breath away. He’d chosen a dark gray suit and a solid red tie. The red rose boutonniere Carly and I had made was pinned to his lapel. He smiled at me with those handsome brown eyes and sparkling teeth.

  I realized—probably for the millionth time since I met him—that I was a very lucky woman.

  I saw the appreciation of the way I looked in his eyes. His gaze scanned me from head to toe, and his smile grew even wider. Even here, in front of everyone, I warmed to that smile. A quiver of excitement and feeling of rightness flowed through me.

  Mark was going to marry me. It was really happening.

  Patrick stopped in front of the judge as our children and guests gathered around us. Twenty of our closest friends formed a sheltering semi-circle. I was happy we were here. A church wouldn’t have been nearly as intimate.

  “Who gives this woman to marry this man?” Judge Honeycutt asked.

  “My brother and I do,” Patrick replied in a voice with a small catch to it that choked me up.

  Taking my hand, he gave it an affectionate squeeze and then set it in Mark’s waiting hand. It was probably the hardest thing Patrick had ever done. He was already sniffing in that masculine way he always did when tears threatened. I could feel my own eyes growing moist.

  Mark drew my hand through the crook of his elbow and gave it a loving pat. “You look stunning,” he whispered.

  “So do you,” I whispered back.

  The ceremony proceeded per tradition, with the standard questions and the usual answers. I had a hard time paying attention, because all I could think about was Mark. The warmth of him beside me, the gentle weight of his hand covering mine, and the rumble of that baritone voice as he responded to each question with no hesitation. Then came the time for the vows we had both decided to write for each other.

  He’d asked me if he could say something and if I wanted to say anything other than the customary vows. Thinking I had plenty of time to prepare, I’d agreed.

  But I’d resorted to an uncharacteristic bout of procrastination. The problem was that I had too much to say, but I also had too little. How could I possibly sum up everything I felt for Mark Brennan in a few words?

  I started writing the silly vows a hundred different times, but each attempt ended up in wadded paper being pitched across the room. Not until the morning of the wedding had I finally decided what to say. A small folded paper was tucked in my bouquet, waiting at ready in case my memory fled. I hoped I hadn’t accidentally left it amongst the rose petals I’d nervously plucked.

  Judge Honeycutt closed her little book. “Mark and Jackie have written their own vows. Mark, would you like to recite your vows to Jackie now?”

  “Good a time as any,” he said before his eyes grew serious, penetrating to my very soul. “Sweet Jackie. You’ve changed my entire world. I’ve never met a woman so full of love, so full of life. Every time I’m around you, I feel like I have to catch my breath. You never stop moving. Or talking.”

  Several people in the small crowd chuckled. I couldn’t blame them. Yet I didn’t take his words or their amusement as criticism as I always had before. He meant what he’d said as an endearment. A tear fell from my lashes.

  “And I love that about you. I love that you sing aloud to the radio and that you always mess up the lyrics. I love that you eat peanut butter right out of the jar. I love that you always think about everyone else before yourself. I love that you laugh the same time you cry. I’m damn lucky that I found you, and I couldn’t imagine life without you. I promise to be faithful. I promise to be there through good times and bad—no matter how bad things might get. As long as I draw breath, I’ll be by your side.”

  I thought my heart would burst. Mark knew me—he knew me almost better than I knew myself.

  Suddenly the words I had written seemed inadequate.

  “Jackie?” the judge asked. “Would you please recite your vows to Mark?”

  Reaching deep down, I let all I felt for that wonderful man tumble from my mouth, fervently hoping the words would come out right. “Mark, you’re my rock. My stalwart. I’ve never known a man I could trust the way I can trust you. You’re always there when I need you. No matter how hard I tried to push you away, you didn’t budge. I love that stubbornness. I love your bad jokes. I love that you turn everything I say into a double entendre. I love that you always do a really bad impersonation of William Shatner to make me laugh when you know I’m sad.”

  Carly let out an enormous laugh that sent a ripple of chuckles through the crowd.

  “I love that you’re always there for your girls, too. I promise that I’ll be there for you—just like you’re there for me. Through the good times and the bad, through sickness and health, through living on a cop and teacher’s salaries and putting four kids through college, and through gray hair, wrinkles, and grandkids. I’ll be there. I promise.”

  He kissed the back of my hand and smiled.

  The rest of the ceremony went by in a blur. We exchanged rings, we answered a few more of Judge Honeycutt’s questions, and then she pronounced us husband and wife. Mark kissed me deep and long, and I remembered sighing in response.

  Hugs were exchanged with our children as I wondered what it would be like to be a family again. Patrick made nice and shook hands with Mark. Kathy hugged me, although she seemed a bit stiff, and I tried not to let the fact that she obviously hadn’t accepted me ruin the wonderful evening. Carly greeted me with a wonderful smile and a hug that squeezed the breath right out of me. Mark and Nate shared one of those hugs guys always use that was more a slap on the back than an embrace.

  After a tour of the room, shaking hands, getting more hugs, and drying a few tears, Mark and I were ready to cut the cake. Instead of the customary white cake, we went with red velvet, keeping with the crimson theme. His hand covered mine on the silver knife as we sliced a couple of small pieces.

  I’d always figured the way a bride and groom fed cake to their partner was a good indication of how much overall respect they had for each other. I’d been to weddings where the couple rudely smeared cake and icing all over their new spouse’s face, and I never expected those unions to last too awfully long.

  Mark quickly ate the piece I fed him and held the piece he gave me so I could take a small bite. Then he smiled and put the rest of it in his own mouth before he kissed me. He tasted like icing, and it’s widely known that I’m an icing junkie. Adding my new husband’s lips to the taste only strengthened the addiction.

  The hors d'oeuvres came out as the waiters Carly had arranged started mingling among our guests. Her promise of twenty dollars and any leftover food had bribed three of her friends into helping. Patrick, Kathy, and Nate poured the drinks. Mark kept me close at his side as we made small talk and drank champagne from the bride and groom glasses. He tried to get me to eat some of the appetizers, but they tasted like sawdust.

  I started to throw back the champagne like shots of whiskey, wishing they were every bit as strong. I was buzzed, but not quite enough to calm my jittery nerves.

  Mark threw me a disapproving frown a couple of times, but I just shrugged in response.

  Kathy was sipping champagne from a fluted glass Nate handed to her. I figured one glass of alcohol wouldn’t hurt before realizing everyone else was now holding a drink too. It was time for the toasts. Mark wrapped his arm around my waist and held me closer.

  Nate picked up a fork and hit his glass until the smattering of conversation died down. While my youngest wasn’t a shy person, he hated speaking in public. Since he’d assumed the role of best man, Nate was going to have to give a toast.

  “Um… well…” Nate cleared his throat and tried again. “Patrick
and I want to welcome Mark into the family.” Kathy elbowed him in the ribs. “Oh, and Kat and Carly, too.” He raised his glass. “Have a nice, long marriage.”

  Why did that sound so much like a judge passing sentence on a convicted prisoner?

  Carly, my maid of honor, took over. Raising her glass of grape juice, she smiled at her father. “Daddy, Kat, and I are happy to have Jackie around. She made my dad smile again when I was afraid he’d forgotten how.” She took a sip from her flute as the guests did the same.

  Mark and I clinked glasses and drank champagne. He leaned in and kissed me. “Can’t wait until we can get out of here so I can get you alone.”

  My thoughts were in tangles. This was supposed to be the happiest day of my life. So why was I trying to drown myself in alcohol? Just this once, why couldn’t I simply enjoy feeling good and being happy?

  Because he married you, my brain whispered. It’s all downhill from here.

  “That’s not true,” I mumbled, before furtively looking over to see if Mark had caught me talking to myself.

  He seemed too busy chatting with a friend to have noticed.

  Oh, yes, it is true. Now that’s he’s got you, he doesn’t have to try anymore. He’ll get bored and discard you just like David.

  I stopped the waiter as he walked by and grabbed another glass of champagne.

  ***

  “I hate leaving the kids to clean up,” I said as Mark held the door open. “Are you sure they won’t come back here?”

  “Carly said they were staying at your house at least for tonight. Patrick was supposed to bring Uno. Could turn ugly.” He grinned. “I imagine they’ll be here tomorrow. I mean, it’s Christmas, and they’re all greedy.”

  Stepping into our house, I was rendered speechless as I took a good look around. The lights were out. A fire crackled in the fireplace, giving the room a warm glow. The Christmas tree sparkled with multi-colored lights. A bottle of champagne chilled in a silver ice bucket on the kitchen island where two fluted glasses stood at its side. A bowl full of chocolate-dipped strawberries sat next to two small plates. Soft music filled the air, compliments of the stereo.

  Carly was truly a miracle worker. I had no idea how she managed to pull all this off while she was at the wedding, babysitting the nervous bride.

  Mark helped me out of my overcoat, and then hung it next to his on the coat tree. Coming behind me, he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me back against him. “How are you feeling tonight, Mrs. Brennan?”

  Mrs. Brennan. It was such a lovely name but a shame it wouldn’t be mine for long. “I’m...fine. And you Detective Brennan?”

  “Never better. Want some champagne?”

  God, yes! “That would be wonderful.”

  It took him a few moments to remove the wrapping on the bottle, and he struggled to get it open.

  “Having a little trouble popping the cork?” I asked.

  “My cork always takes a long time to pop,” he replied with a naughty smile. “Wouldn’t want to rush you.” With a big tug, the cork came free, hitting the ceiling, and bouncing somewhere in the living room. “Shit.” The champagne spilled from the bottle in a burst of bubbles and foam.

  I grabbed the glasses and tried to catch the overflow. Mark put the bottle down, grasped the kitchen towel that was sitting by the sink, and dropped it over the spill.

  “Don’t you think we should clean it up?” I asked.

  “It’ll still be there later.”

  After we had full flutes, I carried them into the living room and stood in front of the fire, watching the flames lick greedily at the pieces of wood.

  Someone had moved the coffee table to one side, and a couple of quilts and a few pillows were spread out on the carpet in front of the fireplace. A lot of thought had gone into this honeymoon.

  Thank you, Carly.

  Mark followed with the bowl of strawberries and the plates. He glanced down at the pile of bedding on the floor. “That’s interesting. I think someone assumed we wouldn’t make it to the bedroom.” He put everything down on an end table and took a glass from my hand. “They were right. A toast.”

  I held my glass up. “To what?”

  “To us. To a long, happy life together. To OfficeMax. To ice-skating. To—”

  I took over. “To cabins in Michigan and raspberry jam.” I felt a blush spread across my face.

  I drank the champagne in one gulp. Mark did the same.

  He went to the kitchen and brought the bottle back. He refilled both our glasses. I drank the liquid down in one big swallow.

  “Easy there. I don’t want you drunk.”

  I held the flute out to him. “More.”

  What was I so nervous about? It wasn’t as if we hadn’t had sex before. Great sex. Fantastic sex. Mind-blowing sex. Why did I suddenly feel the need to get blitzed out of my mind?

  Because marriage ruins everything, my thoughts taunted. He doesn’t have to try anymore, and he’ll get bored with you.

  “Shut up,” I mumbled at my stupid brain.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Nothing.” Just thinking too much again. Holding out my empty glass, I asked, “More please.”

  “You sound like Oliver Twist. Want to switch to Jell-O shooters?” he asked with an acerbic smile as he refilled the flute.

  I drained the glass.

  “All right, that’s enough.” He took the empty glass out of my hand and set it on the table next to his. “What in the hell is wrong with you?”

  I really needed some more champagne. The mind-numbing buzz was fading too quickly. Was there any zinfandel in the kitchen? “Nothing.”

  Knitting his brows, he frowned. “I know you better than that.”

  “Nothing’s wrong,” I repeated.

  I thought I heard a slow ten count.

  “Jackie, babe, what’s wrong?” Mark asked again as he took my hands into his.

  I didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want him to think I’d lost faith in him, until I realized that was exactly what I was doing. I was losing faith in him and in me—for no good reason.

  We were married now. So what? I still loved him and still wanted him. Judging from the front of his trousers, he felt the same.

  I finally let it go. Standing there in that room—a little champagne-buzzed and nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs—I let it all go. I let go of all the pain, all the insecurity, and all the uncertainty.

  Mark Brennan was not David Ryan. Mark Brennan wouldn’t stop loving me if some twenty-something swung her hips in front of him. Mark Brennan wouldn’t become a selfish lover. Mark Brennan kept his promises.

  I felt the weight of fear and worry melt away. “Nothing, Mark. Honest.”

  The best thing I could do was distract him. Pushing my hands up his chest, I helped him shrug off his coat. It fell to the floor, and he kicked it aside.

  He reached for me.

  I dodged his hands and held up an index finger to stop him. “Not yet. Patience.”

  He smiled at me, that saucy smile that always made me so hot. “Fine. I’m putty in your hands.”

  I ran my fingers across the front of his pants, loving the hardened cock that greeted my palm. “Oh, no. There’s nothing soft about you.”

  I unbuckled his belt and pulled it free before turning my attention to removing his tie and shirt. His bare chest shone like gold in the firelight. I ran my fingers through the patch of dark hair that covered his pecs, loving the total masculinity of him. I got his shoes, pants, and socks off in short order.

  Standing there in nothing but boxers, he looked like some Greek god. Or at least he would as soon as I got him naked. How odd it was being there in my wedding dress, while he was next to nude. I felt a primitive thrill tumble through me.

  Mark started to say something, but I put my fingertips to his lips to stop him. Then I backed up a few steps and tried to find my bravado.

  The high heels were first to go, but I didn’t just kick them off
. I hiked my dress up to my thigh and put my foot on the coffee table. I ran my hand down my leg before slowly taking the shoe off, and then I repeated the actions with the other leg. With my feet back on the floor, I turned my back to Mark. “Think you could unzip me?”

  I felt his warmth against my back as the zipper was slowly dragged down. His lips caressed my bare shoulder as his hands came to rest on my hips. The front of the dress fell forward, and I caught it to keep it in place. Turning around, I backed up a step. “Tell me what you think.”

  I let the dress fall in a pool at my feet, revealing a strapless bra and a full set of thigh-high stockings complete with white, lace garters. I passionately hoped I appeared as sexy as I felt.

  Mark growled and took a step toward me.

  “No, no, no,” I said, holding a finger up again, stopping him in his tracks.

  “Jackie...”

  “No. Not yet. Patience.” I walked a slow circle around him, letting my fingers caress and slide over that heavenly skin, reveling in the fact that I had the poor guy so worked up.

  “Jackie...”

  “Yes?”

  “I want you.”

  Relishing the huskiness in Mark’s voice, I stepped in front on him and took a good, long look at every inch of him. “I can see that.”

  “Now.”

  I slipped my arms around his neck and kissed him long and deep. He rumbled his approval deep in his chest. When I pulled away, he groaned. Finally, I dropped to my knees.

  I took those boxer shorts down, and awed at the thick cock that bobbed at me, demanding my attention. With no prelude, I took him deep into my mouth—my wedding present to him.

  His fingers threaded through my hair, and I savored each moan, each throaty sign of his approval. He thrust his hips forward. “You’re killing me, babe.”

  All I did was hum in response. It was heady stuff, realizing how much I could affect him, how much my doing this meant to him. I felt naughty. I felt downright wicked. And loving him heated my body as much as anything I’d ever done. I was wet and oh so ready...