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Only Abraham.
* * *
Sometime later, I curled into his side and smiled. “Guess what?”
He smiled back at me, that perfect expression of tenderness and steadiness that he always regarded me with. “What?”
“Turned out I liked that.”
His brows rose. “Enough for a round two?”
I straddled him and pressed a lingering kiss to his jaw. “You better believe it. In fact, I may never leave this bed again.”
He laughed, and pulled me down.
* * *
We actually didn’t leave the apartment until Sunday morning, which was the day of Briana and Malcolm’s wedding.
We woke early and headed over to my apartment, since I’d spent that last twenty-four hours mainly naked, and figured it wouldn’t be totally appropriate to wear one of Abe’s jerseys.
My roommates, who had ascertained where I was Saturday morning for safety purposes, still raised their brows when I walked inside, followed by Abe in a suit.
None of them said anything, but they definitely smirked.
I really only owned two nice dresses—the one I’d worn my first day of work, which was boring, and the red one—but Sabeen had promised to lend me one. When I stepped into her room, she arched a brow. “So?”
I shrugged and grinned. I wasn’t positive, but I was pretty certain I hadn’t stopped grinning since Friday night. “So it was good. We’re good. Abe and me.”
Her other brow flew up to join the first. “You two hadn’t before?”
I shook my head. “Actually, um—actually I hadn’t at all before.”
She broke out in a sudden grin. “Are you sore?”
“Well, yes,” I said dryly. “That is the one unfortunate thing.”
But even that couldn’t keep my smile away.
I ended up in a plum-colored dress with a sheer black high neckline. Abe told me I looked beautiful.
I wondered if he always thought I looked beautiful, rather like I always thought he did. It was a nice thought.
I’d never been to a peer’s wedding before. When I thought on it, I’d never actually been to a Christian wedding before, just several of my parents’ friends when I was a kid. They were all hippies, and I couldn’t remember a white dress between the lot.
Wedding season for the NFL rarely lined up with wedding season for the rest of the world, since they had so little downtime. The saying went that there was no off-season in football, just the time when games were played and the time when they weren’t. Football players got a little time off after the Super Bowl, and a whole handful of marriages started then.
But Briana Harris wanted a winter wedding.
Malcolm hailed from Kentucky and Briana from California, so they decided to have the wedding in New York. Which was convenient, since they’d apparently invited the entire Leopards team and everyone who worked with them.
The wedding and receptions were both held at the Central Park Boathouse. Bright floor-to-ceiling windows let in light. There was a strange beauty to winter that I still wasn’t used to, especially the way the clouds streaked across the cold blue sky, the way the cold light managed to be stunning, the way the blankets of snow sparkled like diamonds and topped the barren branches like exquisite art.
Rachael Hamilton dropped down in the pew next to me. “Pretty
day, huh?”
“I like the snow much better from the inside.”
