THAT MAN 5 (The Wedding Story-Part 2)

by Nelle L'Amour

  She nodded, the tears still falling. And then she smiled again, this time a real smile, and held my gaze in hers. With her hand, she traced the outline of my jaw.

  “Happy Birthday, Blake.”

  Balls. I’d totally forgotten it was my thirtieth birthday. And then I remembered what I’d wanted. It was plain and simple. I’d wanted to wake up to my wife. Start the next decade of my life with the girl I loved with my heart, my body, and my soul.

  Damn it, I was going to make that happen. So, my bride was wearing a hospital gown instead of a wedding gown, but right now that was the most beautiful dress in the world. I lowered my lips to hers and let her know how much I loved her. Weak as she was, she didn’t resist. She cradled my head between her hands, her hot tears warming my face. Warming every part of me. Today, Jennifer McCoy was going to become Jennifer Burns.

  Chapter 21

  Jennifer

  Calamity Jen.

  That’s what Libby often called me. Aptly.

  My wedding had been the biggest calamity of my life. A disaster. I’d totally fucked it up. Let down my future husband. His parents. My parents. And over a thousand guests.

  “I’m sorry I screwed everything up,” I sniffled as I forced myself to break away from Blake’s passionate kiss.

  Blake gently brushed away my tears. “Stop it, tiger. It’s not your fault.”

  “But all those people…all that money your parents spent…”

  “Fuck the money, baby. My parents won’t miss it. And except for our families and close friends, those people mean nothing to me. Or to us.”

  The bubbly nurse, who’d returned, made me drink some water. Blake held the cup as I sipped it through a straw. The cool liquid felt good against my parched palate and raw throat. Then another cheerful hospital attendant pranced into the room with a breakfast tray. A light meal of scrambled eggs, toast, and juice.

  “Eat,” Blake ordered, sitting on the edge of my bed.

  With my fatigue, nausea, and the results of the biopsy weighing on my heart, I had no appetite, but I took a few bites to make Blake happy. I’d much rather be holding his hand than a fork.

  My eyes grew heavy. Blake ruffled my hair and gave me a light kiss on my forehead. “Baby, rest. I’m not going anywhere.” A faint smile spread on my lips as I closed my eyes.

  I don’t know how long I’d been out when my eyes blinked open. Blake was still there seated beside me. But standing beside him was a tall, lanky long-haired young man with warm twinkly eyes who bore a striking resemblance to Jesus. He was clad in a long white robe with a notched high collar and holding a pamphlet in one hand. A priest? Nurse Wanda was in the room too. My blood ran cold and my heart beat as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Cancer. Was he here to read me my last rites?

  “Blake, are we saying goodbye?” I stammered.

  That dazzling mischievous smile I loved so much lit up his face. “No, baby, we’re saying our vows.”

  My heart continued to beat in a frenzy while he introduced us. Reverend Dooby was a newly ordained Universal Life Church minister. We were all God’s children. A shocking but beautiful reality swept over me like a warm summer shower. We were getting married.

  In my drugged-out haze, the reverend’s laid-back voice drifted in my ears like a magic carpet. It was some New Age ceremony with words like love, peace, and harmony abounding. Blake held my hand, his eyes never leaving me.

  The reverend came to the end of his pamphlet. “Do you Blake Burns take this beautiful babe to be your wife?”

  “I do.” Blake smiled.

  “And do you Jennifer McCoy take this handsome dude to be your husband?

  “I do,” I whispered, my eyes watering. So much for Shakespeare.

  Reverend Dooby closed his pamphlet. “Yo, bro, it’s ring time.”

  My eyes stayed glued on Blake as he dipped a hand into a side pocket of his tuxedo pants. To my utter surprise, two SpongeBob Band-Aids appeared. He looked at me sheepishly.

  “Sorry, Baby. Borrowed these from the children’s ward. Marcy’s twins still have our rings so they’ll have to do for now.”

  Oh my Blake! My smiling lips quivered as he handed me one. Then, he gently lifted my left hand, which fortunately wasn’t hooked up to IVs. A tear rolled down my cheek as he wrapped the Band-Aid around my ring finger just above my magnificent engagement ring. The brilliant snowflake diamond sparkled in the ray of sunshine that beamed through the curtains.

  It was my turn. My hands trembling, I copied his actions and wrapped the other Band-Aid around his left fourth finger. With a cheek to cheek grin, he admired my handiwork.

  Reverend Dooby’s voice echoed in my ears. “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

  We were married! Blake gently drew me close to him. His mouth pressed on mine in a passionate embrace I wanted never to end. Our tongues danced and our bodies melted into one. We had just vowed to spend the rest of our lives together…to cherish each other until death do us part. I felt no pain as my fear succumbed to everlasting love.

  The sobs of Nurse Wanda brought me back to the moment. “I’m sorry. I always cry at weddings. But this one is so special.” Her tears were contagious. I was crying too.

  Breaking the eternal kiss, I held my new husband’s breathtaking face in my hands.

  His eyes bore into mine “Mrs. Burns, thank you for the best birthday present ever.”

  “Oh, Blake, how can I ever top it?”

  “By asking me the same question next year.”

  Chapter 22

  Blake

  The McCoys showed up a couple of hours after our nuptials. Nurse Wanda was back in the room, taking Jen’s temperature.

  “Good news, Mrs. Burns, your temperature is back to normal.”

  Mrs. Burns. Man, I loved those two words. And hoped I’d be hearing them for the rest of my life. Jen’s prognosis was still gnawing away at me. My stomach was twisted in a knot.

  Jen smiled sheepishly at her parents. “Mom, Dad…Blake and I have something to tell you.” She shot me a look asking for a go-ahead. I nodded. Mrs. McCoy bit her lip, expecting bad news.

  “Um…uh…we got married this morning.” She proudly held up her hand to show off her marriage “band”-Aid. I proudly did the same.

  A warm smile spread across Harold’s face while his wife exploded into tears.

  Jen furrowed her brows. “Oh, Mom. Are you mad at me?”

  Jen’s mother reached into her small handbag for a lacy hankie. Dabbing at her tears, she rushed to Jen’s bed and hugged her. “Oh, honey, your dad and I are so happy for the both of you. We love you so much.”

  A dazzling smile flashed on Jen’s face. “I love you both so much too.”

  Mr. McCoy shook my hand. “Welcome to the family, son.”

  About an hour later, Libby and Chaz showed up while her parents were grabbing a bite to eat at the hospital cafeteria. Thrilled to hear about our marriage, they brightened Jen’s spirits and kept her distracted. Especially Chaz, who made Jen laugh so hard it hurt. While waiting at the head of the long valet line for his car after the wedding fiasco, Kat had cut in front of him. He did what he’d always wanted to do. He slapped the rude psycho bitch. Way to go, my man!

  Feeling a little stronger, Jen told us about the catfight between my mother and Kat’s. Man, I would have given my left foot to see my mother kick Enid’s ass. And score one for my tiger for almost knocking the bitch out. Despite my gloom, I laughed my ass off with Jen’s best friends. I had newfound respect for my mother, the warrior.

  Libby and Chaz spent a half hour with us. Shortly after they left, the McCoys returned to the room, and my parents and Grandma showed up. Jen and I shared the news about our marriage with my family. They were thrilled, especially Grandma who exclaimed,“Zei gezunt. So vhen are you going to make me some beautiful grandchildren?”

  My heart skittered. From her lips to God’s ears.

  My mother pecked my cheek. “Congratulations, darl
ing. And happy birthday. I brought along the perfect cake to celebrate.”

  Only my mother would think about my birthday at a time like this. Before I could say another word, in walked two burly hospital attendants, wheeling in our twenty-layer ocean-themed wedding cake—complete with multi-colored macaroon shellfish dotting the pearl-white frosting. For sure, thirty candles were lit among the many layers. I mentally rolled my eyes. But I had to love her.

  “Following Meg’s excellent suggestion, we took the rest of the reception food to a homeless shelter. But we decided to keep the cake. Whatever’s not eaten, we’ll give to the hospital staff.”

  My mother and Jen’s exchanged warm smiles. My mother meant well. She cared about people. She cared about me.

  “Now, darling boy, make a wish and blow out the candles.”

  “Candles shmandles. Such a vaste of time,” growled Grandma as I prepared to do the honors.

  There was only one wish to make. You know it. Drawing in a deep breath, I blew out the candles. All thirty with my pursed mouth and puffed out cheeks.

  Together, Jen and I sliced the first piece of cake, my strong hand cupping her limp one. My birthday cake was our wedding cake and vice versa. In wedding tradition, we fed each other a mouthful and moaned.

  I thought about my wish. Oh baby, stay with me.

  *

  The minutes crawled by. Every hour felt like an eternity. Jen dozed on and off while we anxiously awaited the biopsy report. I was on pins and needles. Every fifteen minutes, I texted my sister who texted back with the same two words: No news. Let me tell you, patience was not one of my virtues.

  Finally at five p.m., a little after Jen awoke from a nap, Marcy ambled into the room. It now resembled a florist’s shop with all the beautiful fragrant flowers sent over by friends of my parents. Clad in a white lab coat, she was holding a clipboard with some papers attached to it. I couldn’t read her expression—it was a total poker face. My stomach clenched. She glanced down at the charts.

  “I’m afraid…”

  Oh fuck. God, no! My racing heart was about to beat out of my chest.

  “…Jennifer is going to be stuck with my brother for a very long time.”

  It took me a second to deconstruct her words. And when I heard her utter the magic word “benign,” I swear my cock did a happy dance.

  In my haze of over-the-top happiness, I could hear Jen’s mother weeping, “Thank you, good Lord. Thank you.”

  I rushed to my tiger’s side. I took her into my arms. “Did you hear that, baby? You’re going to be okay.”

  Her glistening eyes searched mine. “Blake, why are you crying?”

  Balls. Blake A-for-Alpha Burns was an emotional car wreck. I’d held back tears of sorrow, but I couldn’t hold back tears of joy.

  She kissed away my tears. Whoever said real men don’t cry needed to have their fucking head examined.

  Chapter 23

  Blake

  My tiger was released from the hospital on Christmas Day. It was the best Christmas present I could have gotten. While she was frail, she was home and on the road to recovery. And we were husband and wife. We were now wearing our matching platinum wedding bands. Marcy had brought them to the hospital. They were both inscribed with one word: “Forever.”

  “Merry Christmas, Mr. and Mrs. Burns,” said the cheerful doorman as I helped my slow-moving but radiant wife into our building. “Surprised to see you back from your honeymoon so soon.”

  “A little change in plans,” I replied. Jen giggled.

  When I got to my apartment, I unlocked the door and then swept my tiger into my arms.

  Jen gazed up at me. “What are you doing, Blake? You know, I can walk.”

  I rolled my eyes at her and kicked the door open. “Jeez, tiger. Tradition. I’m carrying you across the threshold.”

  A big smile flashed on her wan face, and she smacked a kiss on my lips. “Oh, Blake, you’re such a romantic. But please don’t make me laugh because it hurts!”

  Jen’s eyes lit up when I carried her into the living room. I’d managed to score a Christmas tree at the last minute at a lot not far from Cedars. A last minute deal that nobody wanted, it was smallish and kind of scruffy like an undernourished rescue dog. When I spotted it, I knew it was mine. Just like my Jen, it was a survivor and needed TLC. Jen’s mom, God bless her, rushed to Rite-Aid and scored some bulbs and decorations at fifty percent off. The tree, I must say, was shining brightly just like my tiger.

  “Oh, Blake!” she exclaimed as I set her down on the couch. “You got me a Christmas tree?”

  “No. I got us one. Merry Christmas, Mrs. Burns.”

  “The same, Mr. Burns.”

  I lowered myself onto the couch next to her. She snuggled against me, folding her legs over mine and resting her head on my shoulder. Her knees grazed my cock. I inhaled the intoxicating cherry-vanilla scent of her hair and then kissed her scalp lightly. It felt so good to cuddle her.

  “Baby, I’m sorry I don’t have a Christmas present for you.” The truth: we were supposed to be on our honeymoon and I was going to surprise her with something special. I still hadn’t shared that destination with her, nor was I planning to.

  Lifting her head, she cradled my face in her hands. “Wrong. I have you, baby. The best Christmas present a girl could ever hope for.”

  Impulsively, I pulled her face to mine. I crushed my lips against hers and wasted no time making the kiss hotter and deeper. Maybe she couldn’t fuck, but she sure could kiss.

  *

  Jen’s parents came over for dinner as did mine. So did Grandma and Marcy, minus her twins. My nephews stayed at home with their nanny, preferring to play with the box load of 3D Nintendo games I’d bought them for Chanukah.

  Jen’s mom made her traditional Irish stew, and Grandma brought over a pot of her matzo ball soup. My tiger ate voraciously, and it pleased me. Her healthy appetite signaled she was getting better.

  Respecting Jennifer’s fragile state of health, our guests didn’t linger. After I cleaned up with everyone’s help, Jen and I curled up on the couch and watched a Netflix movie. Frozen. The very flick we’d seen last Christmas day when I’d showed up her house in Boise and surprised her. She loved this movie. And just like before, she cried her eyes out. It so fucking turned me on. And it gave me an idea. I had to admit. Sometimes, I was a fucking genius. No pun intended.

  *

  We welcomed the New Year in together with what we decided would be an annual tradition—we boiled two lobsters. Jen named hers Kat, and I named mine Enid. Over champagne, we toasted to our new life together.

  Jen recovered slowly but steadily. As much as she wanted to get back to work, I made her stay home an extra week just to play it safe. And when she finally did go into the office, we drove there together as Jen was not permitted to drive for the rest of the month.

  The hardest part was that we couldn’t fuck—specifically, I couldn’t sink my cock into her pussy or her ass. We had to get the okay from Marcy that she was fully healed internally and that might take up to two months. That’s not to say that my cock didn’t get any action. We got creative and I fucked her every other way I knew how. And lucky for Jen, her clit was not off bounds. Nor were sex toys if they were used externally. By the time what we hoped would be Jen’s final visit to my sister, she was jokingly complaining that her jaw was strained, her fingers calloused, and that her cleavage and her armpits, my substitute pockets of paradise, were chafed. She’d also had to replace the batteries of all our sex toys. And she was positive her healthy weight gain could be attributed to all the high caloric cum she’d swallowed. I actually believed her.

  On Friday, February the thirteenth, the day before Valentine’s Day, I insisted on accompanying Jen to her morning appointment with Marcy. Hopefully, it would be her last. Jen caved in, but made me sit in the waiting room. I was the sole male in a sea of women, several very attractive, and felt a little conspicuous when I caught their eyes on me. I gave them a little wa
ve and told them I was here with my wife. God, I loved saying that word. They responded in unison with a disappointed chorus of “Ohs” and went back to their cell phones and magazines. I took out my iPhone, but while I answered some e-mails, my mind wandered.

  It was strange to think of my sister examining my wife. Exploring parts that were meant only for me. In my mind’s eye, I pictured Jen in those stirrups, legs spread wide, her perfectly preened pinky pussy in full view. My cock flexed. I had the burning urge to bust through the door and fuck her on the examining room table. But the thought of my sister watching quickly put that fantasy to rest though I was still horny as hell. Fingers crossed Jen would be cleared to have real sex. It had been way too long—in fact, the longest my cock had gone without pussy in my entire adult life. Twenty long minutes later, the receptionist broke into my wet dreams and told me my sister wanted to see me in her office. My heart accelerating, I leapt up from my chair.

  Jennifer was already seated in Marcy’s office when I came flying in. A smile sparkled on her face. Marcy, seated behind her desk, lifted her recently acquired reading glasses onto her head.

  “Hi, babe. How’d it go?” I asked, taking the chair right next to Jen’s and sounding on edge.

  “Great news.”

  Marcy took over. “Yes, Jennifer has healed beautifully. The two of you can resume sexual intercourse immediately.”

  Immediately? Like could I fuck Jennifer over Marcy’s desk right here and now? “Seriously?” I asked incredulously.

  Jen squeezed my hand. “Really, baby.”

  My cock jumped with joy, but at the same time, a cocktail of apprehension and anxiety seeped through my veins. While I’d counted down the days to sink my cock into my tiger, unsettling questions hammered my brain. Could I hurt her? Tear her apart? Make her bleed? “Will there be any complications?” I asked Marcy, thinking maybe we should do it in one of her examining rooms for the first time just in case. Again, that image of fucking my wife in those stirrups flashed in my mind.