by Roxie Noir
“I’m trying,” I say, and glance past her at Sasha and Dani. They’re both trying not to smile at Lula-Mae.
“Have a drink,” my mom says.
“Mom,” I say, frowning.
She laughs.
“Loosen up for once,” she says. “Nobody’s judging you. You’re just getting married. Jackson loves you. What have you got to prove?”
I make a face at her, and she shakes her head.
“Sometimes I don’t understand how on earth your father and I ended up with a child like you,” she says, teasing me gently. “But I love you anyway.”
My mom hugs me. I try not to cry.
When it’s finally time to actually get out there, I feel like I’m tied in knots. I’ve never liked being the center of attention, and I’ve never really been good with words or saying them in front of people.
I stand in the foyer of the bed and breakfast, waiting, my heart going a million miles a minute.
Jackson’s nephews walk out. Tyler throws flower petals everywhere, because he really wanted to be the flower boy.
He takes the job very, very seriously. He takes most things seriously. He’s that kind of kid.
Sasha walks out with Trevor, and I swear I see her flutter her eyelashes at him as she takes his arm.
Dani walks out with Raylan, and then it’s my turn.
For a split second, I wish again that we’d eloped. Then it could just be us and some Elvis impersonator in Las Vegas, and all these people wouldn’t be looking at me.
Then I take a deep breath. I take my dad’s arm, my mom kisses me lightly on their hair, and the three of us walk out into the sunlight.
I’m shaking as everyone stands and looks at me, but then I look down the aisle.
Jackson’s standing there, wearing a gray suit with the bolo tie I couldn’t talk him out of.
He looks at me and grins, and it lights up his whole face.
Suddenly, I’m not nervous anymore.
The ceremony flies by. I’m trying not to laugh with giddiness, trying not to cry from happiness, and trying to pretend that there isn’t a crowd of people watching the whole thing.
Jackson holds my hand the entire time, because he knows how nervous I am in front of people. He rubs his thumb across my knuckles again and again in comforting, protective circles, and the clenched knots in my stomach loosen slowly.
We blaze through our vows, my voice shaking even though he’s still got my hand.
Then, suddenly, we’re at the end. Jackson slides the ring onto my finger, and for a split second, I just stare at it. The officiant is still talking, and I look up at Jackson.
He winks at me, and I almost laugh out loud.
“You may now kiss the bride,” the officiant says.
Jackson bends down, one hand on the small of my back and the other cupping my cheek, and everyone in the audience cheers as I press my lips to his. We keep it chaste, because our families are here, but it feels weirdly good to suddenly be kissing my husband.
After a moment we both pull back, and Jackson leans his forehead against mine.
“There, you made it,” he whispers.
I squeeze his hand.
“Thanks,” I say, and he rubs my knuckles again.
“Always,” he whispers.
Then I swallow and we walk back down the aisle, except we’re married this time.
When we reach the end of the aisle I realize that I have no idea where we’re supposed to go next, so we just go back into the bed and breakfast since I’m not sure what else to do.
Then we stand there, staring at each other in the empty foyer.
I burst out laughing.
“I have no idea what happens now,” I say. “I didn’t get too much past the part where I had to talk in front of people.”
“Good thing one of us doesn’t turn into a puddle of nerves when there’s a crowd,” he says, grinning.
“Yeah, but it your job to be personable and charming,” I say. “I just hang around hoping some of it’ll rub off on me.”
A door opens and a woman emerges, carrying a tray of champagne. She smiles.
“Congrats,” she says. “Drink?”
We each grab one, and then Jackson takes my hand again and we head further in until we’re in some sort of sitting room. My champagne’s half gone, but so are my nerves.
I set the glass on a side table, pull on Jackson’s jacket, and kiss him properly this time. He tastes like champagne and a little like toothpaste, and we wind our tongues together as he lets his fingers drift down the bare skin of my upper back.
I slip my hands inside his suit jacket, but it takes all my self-control not to start undoing the buttons on his shirt. He pulls me against him, and I can feel that he’s half-hard and probably trying desperately not to be.
“Jackson? Mae?” I hear a voice call.
It’s my mom. We pull apart instantly, like we’re teenagers making out in a movie theater.
Then we look at each other and grin, because we’re married people, and married people can kiss in public if they want.
“Have you seen the bride and groom? We need them for pictures,” we hear my mom say.
Jackson doesn’t wait for whoever she’s asking to answer. He grabs me by the hand, opens another door, and pulls me through.
It’s a closet. It’s small and dark and smells very faintly of mothballs.
“I thought this was gonna be a bathroom,” he whispers.
“I think this is where they keep tablecloths,” I whisper back.
He runs his hand down my back, but this time he doesn’t stop and cups my ass through my wedding dress.
“Did I tell you that you’re beautiful and sexy as hell?” he murmurs.
“Am I sexier than a Texas summer?” I whisper.
He squeezes my ass.
“How long ’til I live that down?” he asks.
“Couple years, at least,” I say.
I can’t see a thing, but I’ve got my hand on his face, an inch in front of mine.
“Well—”
Footsteps come into the room where we were and I put one finger across Jackson’s mouth to hush him, and he bends down and kisses me hard until the footsteps leave. When he pulls away I’m panting for breath, gasping a little in the corset-type bra I’m wearing under my dress.
I bite my lip and force myself not to tear anyone’s clothes off. Not mine, not his. Instead I lace our fingers together and lean against him for a moment, and he rubs my back.
“I’m really glad we’re here,” I finally whisper.
“In this closet?” he whispers back.
I smile against his suit.
“Getting married,” I say.
Someone walks through the room outside again.
“And also in this closet,” I murmur.
“No one’s gonna find us in here,” Jackson says, his voice low.
“They will if we get loud,” I say, sliding my hand around his waist.
“So don’t get loud.”
“It’s your fault when I do,” I say.
I force myself to keep my hands on the outside of Jackson’s clothes, no matter how much I want to get very dirty in this linen closet. He leans down until his lips are on my ear.
“I was hoping this was a bathroom because I know how you feel about sinks,” he growls.
I swallow and rest my head on his shoulder.
“It’s not sinks,” I say. “It’s because bathrooms usually lock.”
“Think a closet is a good substitute?” he asks.
“Jackson, are you proposing our first sexual encounter as a married couple take place in this closet?” I tease.
It’s a rhetorical question. I know that’s exactly what he’s proposing, and it’s taking every ounce of self control I’ve got not to turn around and lift up my wedding dress.
“Don’t tell me you were expecting rose petals on the bed,” he teases back.
“Oh, so now that we’re married, the romance is gon
e,” I say, half-giggling.
He kisses me hard, his tongue snaking into my mouth, and I kiss him back. I can feel him stiffen against me, and I clench my fist against his side to keep myself from undressing him.
“Where are they?” someone says outside the closet.
“Can you blame me for wanting to fuck my wife?” Jackson whispers into my ear.
My entire body flushes red. He squeezes my ass again, sliding his hands along the crease below the cheeks, and I feel like my core is made of warm goo.
We kiss again, slow and hard and sensual, and this time I let my hands drift down his front until I’m rubbing his erection through his suit and he’s whisper-growling.
There’s steps outside the door again, but this time they stop right in front of the closet. I can see shadow, and I pull my hand off Jackson’s cock.
The instant I do, the door opens, revealing his sister Sadie. Jackson and I both squint into the light, and she looks from him to me and back.
“Oh, for shit’s sake, you two,” she says.
Jackson shrugs.
“Sorry?” I say, but I don’t move out of Jackson’s arms.
“Come on,” she says. “Mom’s about to have kittens trying to find you.”
She walks away, leaving the closet door open.
Jackson kisses me one more time, quickly.
“Love you,” I whisper.
“Love you too,” he whispers. “Guess you’ll have to settle for rose petals later.”
“It’s my second choice,” I say.
“What’s your first?” he asks.
“My first choice is always right here, right now,” I tease.
He holds me a little closer.
“I promise to always want to fuck in inappropriate places,” he says.
“I promise to always try to talk you into it,” I say.
“Good,” he says, and kisses me one more time.
Then he takes my hand, and we leave the closet and go back to our wedding.
The End
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