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Still, I’m taken aback by the full-body shock that moves through me at Beau’s touch. We really don’t need the lube anymore, but it’s fun to play with.
That’s what sex with Beau is: fun. A safe space to explore our desires and fantasies.
We’ve done a lot of exploring over the past month. And we plan to do more of it in the years to come.
Rolling my hips against his fingers, I put a palm to his chest, and say, “I still can’t believe we’re married.”
“Best news ever, right?” he asks with a grin. “Lie down. If you’re not feeling great, let me handle things.”
I do.
And he does.
Lord, does he. Keeping one hand on my pussy, he uses the others to coat my nipples in lube. Drawing them to pebbled points, he thumbs them, one at a time, until I’m gasping, and the throb between my legs drowns out the one inside my head.
“I want you to be inside me when I come,” I say.
“Done,” he says, and holding me open with his fingers, he slips inside me. We had sex—a lot of it—last night after we got home from the reception, so I’m a little sore.
I don’t need to tell him. He goes slowly, gently. The kind of late afternoon sex I live for, where our eyes lock and our bodies sync.
His fingers are back on my clit, and I come with a small moan.
He kisses me and comes, too.
“Good?” he asks, staying inside me.
“Full,” I say.
“Whole.”
“Yes.”
“I love you, Bel.” His eyes are serious now, searching mine. “Thank you for making me the happiest man on earth last night. This past month, it’s been the best of my life.”
“Me too,” I say, and I mean that.
I quit my job right after Beau proposed, moved into his house not long after, and started my new job at Blue Mountain Resort a week after that.
Even though the resort usually books up for weddings a year or more in advance, Beau worked his magic and cleared a weekend in early June for our wedding. We didn’t want to rush, but we also didn’t want to wait.
In a way, we’ve been together for almost two decades. It was definitely time to make it official.
So far, things have been pretty awesome. I love the new job, and Maisie loves going to the daycare we set up on-site in an administrative building not far from the main house.
That’s not to say it’s been all smooth sailing. The learning curve at work has been steep. I’ve stumbled more than I would like, and feel like a newbie a lot of the time. Tough pill to swallow for someone who’s used to possessing a high level of competence in her field.
Mom hasn’t been able to move to the mountains, unfortunately. Her job just doesn’t allow it. But she works remotely when she can, and drives up most weekends.
I also miss my friends and colleagues in Charlotte. But it’s only a two-hour drive, and Beau loves the excuse to take one of his fancy cars out for a turn.
Overall, though? Life is good.
So damn good.
All three of us, as a family—we’re bonding, and it’s brilliant.
Beau cleans us up, and we have wine in bed, reliving our favorite moments from last night for the tenth time. Beau loved the band and our signature whiskey cocktail. Predictably, I loved the food—we did something a little different and served Chef Katie’s gnocchi alongside Samuel’s roasted chicken—and the decor. With Milly’s help, we came up with a bold color scheme of French blue and bright red. Sounds tacky on paper, but in real life, Milly made it magical.
Maisie was part of the festivities, of course. She was smiley and snuggly and just the happiest little bundle there ever was. Holding her on my hip at the altar, I felt happy and proud.
I fantasized motherhood could feel like that. But after the reality of having a newborn at home hit me like a ton of bricks, I’d thought it was impossible. I’d resigned myself to the fact that motherhood was pain and boredom and frustration.
I thought I’d feel that way forever.
I’m happy to report that what the doctor told me is true. It really does get better. Not easier. But better.
We have our good days and our bad ones, too. Overall, though, every week brings more joy than frustration. More fun than headaches. My old life is definitely gone, and while I still miss the freedom I had to lie on the couch and binge watch Netflix on hungover Sundays, there are parts of that life I don’t miss.
I like my new life. Not all the time. But I’m happy.
If I could go back and tell my brand-new mom self a few things, here’s what I’d say: stop trying so hard to bounce back. Let life fall apart for a while—it’s okay. Get all the help you can. You will sleep again. And no phase lasts forever. The days are long, but the weeks fly by, and one day soon, you’ll even find yourself wishing time would slow down. Then when your baby shits in the tub for the second time in as many days, you’ll wish it would speed up.
