Johnny and Max are set with their wardrobe, as well as, Dillon, our ring bearer. They’ll wear dark gray, three-piece suits, with white shirts and silver ties; Dillon’s being a bow tie. Since it’s an outdoor summer wedding, I did suggest our guests wear something that wouldn’t cause them to pass out if it gets too hot. Summer dresses and jeans are perfectly acceptable as far as I’m concerned. Because of the brutal Texas summer heat, we decided to hold the ceremony after six in the evening, in the hopes that the worst of the high temperatures would be dropping. Plus, the property being lit up in lights will be beautiful for the reception that will follow into the evening.
“No time for hangovers. You need to get up. Today’s the day we find the dress you’re going to wear the day you take Blue’s name.” She drops to her back and sighs. “I’m so happy for you,” she whispers sweetly. A huge emotional lump forms in my throat, and I attempt to swallow it down. Even with my head throbbing, I’m unable to tamp down the thrill that flows through me knowing the day I become Max’s wife is almost here.
“Thank you. I’m happy for you too,” I whisper back, then scoot closer and lay my head against hers. “We’re definitely blessed.” She turns her head and glances at me with glassy eyes. Her smile is goofy and soft, as she tries to hold in the dam of emotions about to pour out of her. “Don’t you start crying,” I plead.
“I’m sorry. I’m just so happy,” Abigail replies and sniffles. There’s a sheen of tears ready to explode into cascading falls from her beautiful, doe shaped, brown eyes.
“Abigail, if you cry, you know I’ll break into hysterics. Stop!” I beg when my vision blurs from the unshed tears that now fill mine.
“Shit!” Max’s deep voice rumbles into the room. Both, mine and Abigail’s gaze travels to the open bedroom door, where my sugar bear and Abigail’s honeysuckle stand with expressions of concern etched on their handsome faces.
“Why are you crying? Both of you?” Nick glances between the two of us with his hand upturned, gesturing in our direction.
“It’s a sister thing,” Abigail shares as she gathers herself, taking a few breaths. She hops off the bed, walks over to him and wraps her arms around his waist. “It’s fine. We’re fine. We’re perfect, actually.”
“Okay. If you say so,” Nick responds, but he doesn’t seem convinced as he searches her face to make sure. God, he loves her. He cups the back of her neck, then hauls her forward to meet his descending lips and kisses her sweetly. “Come on, fire, I need coffee,” he grumbles. He does not like to see his girl upset.
“I love you so much, Nick.” I hear her soft declaration clearly. Nick slides his arms around her and holds her tight for a few moments, before they both turn their eyes back to me.
“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” I assure them, and glance at Max then back at them. They both nod and make their way out.
Max stands at the threshold, his head turned as he watches them make their way down the hallway, before he closes and locks the door. He strolls over to me with a bottle of water and aspirin in his hand, then stops by my side of the bed and stares down at me.
“Ten days,” he murmurs. “Ten days, and you’ll be my wife.”
“Ten days,” I whisper back, while my heart and stomach do gleeful dance.
“Here. Sit up,” his deep voice orders. He sets down the bottle of aspirin, then opens the bottle of water and hands it to me. “You need some Aspirin?” he asks.
“Yes, please,” I confess and sit up.
“Last night, you were feeling pretty good,” he says with a smirk, then picks up the bottle, opens it, and shakes a couple of the white pills out then hands them to me.
“I was,” I agree. A blush of heat and embarrassment rush to cover me when I flashback to the reason for his grin.
When Abigail and I finally made it to bed, or I should say when our men insisted we’d had enough to drink and led our stumbling bodies up the stairs then down the hall to our bedrooms, I wasn’t quite ready to call it a night. In my defense, neither was Max. The moment the door clicked closed, I shoved him up against the wall and ambushed him. Our mouths and hands were everywhere.
I pulled off his t-shirt, then his belt, right before kneeling in front of him. He pulled my hair back from my face, so he could watch as I unbuttoned his jeans and lowered his zipper, pulling him free so I could taste him. I took my time. My mouth and tongue explored every glorious inch of him, but when he gripped my hair tight and tugged, I knew it was time to get down to serious business. The other hand cupped my face, tilting it so I could take him deep. I could feel he was close, and I was ready to take all he gave, when he pulled free. He lifted me up, then I was up against the wall and his mouth was on mine.
Our passion became frenzied, so he quickly led me to our bed, and in the blink of an eye, I was naked. I watched in anticipation as Max yanked off his boots and remaining clothes, then kicked them aside. Before I knew what he was up to, he grabbed me by my hips and flipped me over, then yanked them up so I was on my knees. One of his big strong hands held my upper body down, flush on the mattress, while his other hand explored, just like my mouth and tongue did to him. His fingers tortured and teased me until I was on the edge. I was beyond ready to explode when he pulled away, but only to position himself at my entrance and slowly fill me. After that there were no more gentle strokes.
“Stay down,” he growled when I began to lift up on my elbows.
His tone had me quickly obeying. My hands grasped the sheets and I held on, taking everything he gave while my lungs begged for air. He took complete control of our movements and did everything I love so much. I swear he knows my body better than I do. I was on the edge again, when he pulled out and flipped me back over, then sat back against the headboard and hauled me to him.
“Love, hop on,” his gravelly voice commanded.
Without hesitation, I hurried to straddle him. Lowering myself onto him as deep as I could, caused me to lose my breath. With my head back, my hands gripped his forearms that gripped my hips. I ground down on him and let out a soft cry of pleasure. He returned his feelings on a low and deep groan. He slid one hand up my back, gathered the strands of my hair then forcefully, but with control, pulled back so that my back arched to his liking. I loved when he did this. When he took complete control. He lowered his head and began to worship my breasts. His fingers of the hand not in my hair, dug into my hip, keeping me in place. My desire became frantic and I fought his hold, but a hard smack to my butt had me stilling. Hmm, I really loved when he did that.
“Max,” I pleaded as I dug my nails into his forearms. He released me, only to cup my head and pull me forward so he could kiss me deep and long. With his lips on mine, his hands guided my movements, never relinquishing control. Both of us, close to falling off the edge, rested our foreheads together. Our hot breath mingled, as I kept up the rhythm he dictated. When I whispered, I love you, Max lost his control. He held me in place as he scooted us down, so he could lay back. He took over then, holding me against him tight as he began to slam up into me over and over, while my mouth placed warm wet kisses and bites along his neck and shoulder. Then he took us over the edge as we clung to one another until we caught our breath.
Like he does each time me make love, he retrieved a warm damp cloth from our bathroom and gently cleaned me. Afterwards, he went to my dresser and pulled out one of my gowns and retrieved my pair of panties. Sliding the pink lacy pair up my legs, he kissed my belly, then slipped a matching silky gown over my head, before tucking me in. He pulled on a pair of drawstring pajama bottoms, but only because we have quests. He normally sleeps in his boxer briefs. He then lay down next to me and pulled me so close, half my body covered his. And like every night after we say our prayers, I whispered, “I love you, Max, forever and a day.” And like every night, he replied “I love you too, forever and a day, because forever will never be long enough.”
“You want me to bring you some coffee?” Max inquires, bringing me back to the pre
sent as he sits down on the edge of our bed.
“Yes, please.” I scoot to the side, then slide my legs off the bed to stand, but a wave of nausea along with the pounding in my head has me plopping back down. I groan softly and drop my face into my hands.
“Toast?” he asks, while chuckling softly and rubbing a soothing hand along my back.
“I think I have to, even though it’s the last thing I want,” I admit and stand again. Only this time I stay up right.
I take light careful steps, not to exaggerate the jackhammer going off in my skull, toward the bathroom with Max following me. I grab my toothbrush, apply toothpaste, then watch Max in the mirror’s reflection as he studies me while I brush. He seems off, but jerks his head back and forth, as if shaking off whatever is on his mind. I’ve never seen Max look at me like this. Before I can question him, he grabs two towels from our linen closet and walks back over to me, right as I slip my toothbrush back in its holder.
“Come on. Hop in the shower while I make your toast. You’ll feel better soon,” he assures me, then sets the towels on the basin and leans in and switches the water on. He turns back around and reviews me, while smiling his beautiful smile. His dimples are out in their full glory and, believe it or not, that’s all I need to feel better. Whatever was bothering him appears to have vanished. I smile up at him and lean into his hard-muscled body, wrapping my arms around his waist while breathing him in. He returns my embrace, engulfing me as he buries his face in my hair.
“I wish we could stay like this all day, but I know your sister and she’s going to bust back in soon. The locked door will only slow her down, not stop her,” he warns. “You’ll need to be quick.”
“Yes, she will,” I sigh, then release him. “I’ll hurry.”
“Good.” He leans down and softly kisses my lips, then turns and walks out.
I pull off my gown and panties and place them in our laundry hamper, then slip into the open shower. After a few minutes, I feel almost normal again–thanks to the aspirin, the warm water, and Max’s doting. Wrapped in a towel, I stroll back into our bedroom while piling my hair into another towel and securing it. Max comes back in with a plate, carrying toast, bacon, and a cup of coffee.
“Thank you so much, sugar bear.” Like each time I use my term of endearment, Max tries to hold back a grin, but his low chuckles can be heard.
“You’re welcome, love,” he replies, then goes serious.
He sets the plate down on the round table that holds a small crystal lamp a few of my favorite books, then he guides me to sit on the daffodil colored chaise I bought from a small furniture store in Kerrville.
We placed the chaise and table next to the bedroom window, so during the day the sunlight pours in. It’s a perfect spot for reading, but I can also see the field next to our house that is showing signs that it’s bluebonnet season. Tiny patches of blue are scattered about, and in just a few more days, it should be covered in a sea of blue.
“You sure you’re okay,” Max probes again, his face set to stone, except for his jaw ticking, and I see his earlier expression has returned. I don’t answer, as I’m now on full alert and studying him. Now I know I didn’t imagine his earlier mood after all. He sits down next to me, and I turn to face him, but his gaze is forward, not on me.
“I’m still a bit hungover, but fine. Why?” I question, while giving him my full attention. When he doesn’t respond, my heartbeat takes off in a gallop. “What’s wrong?” I whisper, my panic barely at bay, because I’ve never felt this conflicted vibe from him.
“Are you sure you want to marry me? Really sure?” he asks, then turns and stares me dead in the eyes. What? When his words sink fully in, I rear back like I’ve been slapped. Why in the world would he ask me this? His face goes slack and his eyelids slowly close, before he turns back around and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, with his head dropped forward.
“Max?” I gasp, and fear settles in my bones. Maybe he’s the one having second thoughts. “I...I don’t understand. Are you...I mean, do you not want to marry me? Are you having second thoughts?” I manage to stutter out with the little air left in my lungs.
He sighs and glances up at me. “I’m not the one waiting until the last minute to find something to wear. So, maybe subconsciously…” His words trail off as my heartbeat turns even more rapid, and my mouth becomes dry, while tremors take me over. “I’m just saying that the invitations are sent, and everyone has RSVP’d. Pastor Mays is officiating.”
Aunt Paige had suggested Pastor Mays. The same pastor that performed Cole’s funeral service, since he wasn’t too far away. We met with him twice for counseling, so he could determine if he believed it was the right thing that we marry. By the end of our second session, he said he’d be honored to perform the ceremony.
“I bought my suit and had it altered the same week you told me what you wanted me to wear. We’ve had the cakes for a while now, the menu is set, the flowers are picked, and we’re getting married at the cabin. Everything is ready to go, except the most important thing–your dress. Then Abigail comes down to help you pick one out and you get smashed? Maybe you subconsciously don’t want to go through with it all.” His voice is nothing but deep rumbles of sadness, that are shaking me to the core. His fearful confession causes all of me to go weak. His head is still bowed, so I scoot off the chaise and kneel in front of him. I pull his face up to mine and see his intense worry. I have to fix this.
“You are it for me. You’ve always been it for me. I want to marry you with everything inside of me.” I attempt to explain, but my words seem too simple to calm the emotional storm I sense from him. I know it’s not enough when he his eyes slant away from me. I lean forward and call his name softly. He sighs again, before giving me his eyes. “Max, you cannot seriously doubt my love, or that I want to be your wife,” I whisper in disbelief.
I try to take a mental inventory of my own actions. Not having picked a dress can’t be the only thing bothering him, because even if I didn’t pick one, I’d walk down the aisle in jeans just to be his wife, and I’m certain he knows this. I search myself in an attempt to understand why I’ve made him feel this way, when my grandpa’s face flashes through my mind. My heart feels like someone has just stabbed it with a knife, and I glance away. I should have told him. I should have trusted him with my pain. I glance back at Max and confess the truth.
“Max, I should have told you,” I murmur, and I feel his body tense. “I should have trusted you with this, but I didn’t want you to know.” His eyes lock onto mine and his jaw ticks. “This is the most important time of my life, and I’m so happy, but...” I begin, and his body turns to stone. “It’s not that you don’t make me happy, because God knows you do. I know I should be over this, but it’s just, this...us...our marriage...the closer it comes to our day, the more I miss Grandpa. It’s the realization that he won’t be here to give me away, that’s brought me down. It’s messing with me, but I didn’t want anyone to know. I especially didn’t want you to know. It’s been over three years; shouldn’t I be past losing him?”
Max moves quickly, grabbing and lifting me to settle in his lap. He wraps his arms around me and whispers, “Jayc.”
“It’s just when I dreamt of this moment, he was the one in my dreams giving me away. Just like you were the man of my dreams that he was giving me to.” When I confess this, Max’s arms squeeze me tight, before one arm releases me so he can raise his hand and cup my chin to bring my face back to his. As he silently stares into my eyes, I watch his expression as it morphs into one of worry and guilt. He adjusts me so that I’m straddling his lap, and holds me even tighter. Our eyes connect, both filled with distress, and mine carrying a sheen of tears.
“Damn, love. I didn’t even think about you missing your grandpa,” he admits. He caresses my face and his fingers brush away a few tears. “I’m really sorry.” I nod and give him a wobbly smile. I lean down and give him a kiss before I sit back up. He searches my face a m
oment then pulls me forward, so he can release my hair from the towel. He begins to run his fingers gently through my thick auburn waves, removing the tangles. I observe his eyes soften as they follow the path of his fingers, and only then do I relax and let my eyes drift closed.
“There’s no time limit,” he says softly, and I open my eyes and gaze down at him. “To hurt over losing him. I would never expect you to get over him not being here. I know how important he was to you. Promise me, here and now, that you won’t keep this pain inside anymore, and that you’ll talk to me and let me help you.” When I don’t say anything, still feeling guilty over burdening him when he’s done nothing but everything he can to bring my life joy, he goes on. “There’s going to come a day that I lose someone as important to me as he was to you, and I’m going to need you. Would you put a time limit on how long I can turn to you?”
“Never,” I reply.
“Right. Then promise.”
I stare in his eyes and concede, now getting it. “I promise.”
When he goes back to running his fingers through my hair, I close my eyes and enjoy the feel of his loving caress, and then it comes to me. His love. His care. Always rescuing me, even from a self-induced hangover. I know now why I haven’t chosen a dress. I’m missing Grandpa, but that’s not the reason I haven’t chosen a dress. I decide to confess this too, not wanting to keep anything else from him. Showing him that I trust him, even though I realize he may not understand. I grab his wrists and halt them from their mission, then turn and push him so he’s lying back on the chaise, but I’m still straddling him. I kiss each of his palms before I release them to settle on his abs.
Forever & A Day Page 2