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After I’d spent a few minutes out front recapping the night with my mom and sister, I said goodnight and went to find Manning. He sat facing the wrong way at an empty picnic table out back with a cigar in hand and an exhausted Blue sleeping at his feet. Except for the fact that we were alone, and even the caterers had left, the party could’ve still been going. White lightbulbs crisscrossed over the dance floor we’d rented, plastic plates with cake residue dotted the tables, and a mixed CD played on the speakers, though the volume had been lowered to soft background music.
“I thought you’d be picking up,” I said as I blew out the remaining lit votive candles we’d arranged down the center of each table.
He rested an ankle over one knee. “I put the cake and leftovers away. The rest can wait until tomorrow.”
I continued stacking dessert plates where he’d left off. “I don’t think you’ve ever gone to bed while the house is messy.” I winked at him. “No matter how hard I’ve tried to tempt you away.”
“Tempt me.” He kept his eyes on me. “Maybe tonight’s your lucky night.”
I dumped the dirty plates in a Hefty trash bag and started nesting name cards. “I don’t think it could get any luckier.”
After a pull from his cigar, he nodded at me. “Leave that stuff, Lake.”
I paused. “I should at least take the presents in.”
“Nah. C’mere.”
“We won’t have a lot of time to clean tomorrow. Our flight leaves in the evening, and it’ll take us at least—”
“I’ll pay the dog sitter extra to take care of it. Just come over here.”
Slowly, I zigzagged through the tables toward him. His impatience visibly grew the closer I got. Blue groaned and twitched. “Did you walk her tonight?” I asked.
“Yep.”
“Food?”
“Between the first dance and the cake.”
I mock-gasped. “What a good husband.”
I stepped over Blue as Manning opened his knees for me to stand between them. He ran a hand up the back of my thigh. “When can you wear this dress again?”
“Never,” I said. “This was it.”
He squeezed my backside. “Too bad.”
“You’ll have plenty of time to get tired of it once I hang our wedding photos.”
“Not possible.” He flexed his hand around the outside of my hip, pressing his thumb close to my pubic bone. “I’m not ready for you to take it off for good,” he said, his voice turning gravelly, “but it’s also all I can think about.”
“Me too.” I wrapped my hand around his forearm as butterflies erupted in my tummy. “Maybe we should leave this mess for tomorrow.”
“No maybe about it.” He put out his cigar and stood, towering over me, challenging me with his height, his hungry eyes. “Definitely.”
He slipped an arm around my waist and took my hand to sway to “Wonderful Tonight.” Blue looked up at us. “We’re going to dance a few moments,” Manning said, “then I’m carrying you inside.”
“You don’t need to,” I said. “I’ll go willingly.”
“That’s what the groom does at the end of the night.”
“I already entered the house as a married woman. A few times, actually. One of the perils of having the ceremony in your backyard.”
He grunted. “You haven’t been in the bedroom, have you? I’ll take you straight to our bed.”
“No.” I half-smiled, blushing as I teased him. “What does the groom do in the bedroom?”
“The rest’s not suitable for Blue’s innocent ears.” Manning bent, scooped me up into his arms, and walked us up the steps to the house. “Any last requests before we lock ourselves in for the night?”
Arms loosely wrapped around his neck, I closed one eye as I thought it over. “We should probably get water,” I said.
“Hydration. Good call. Did you get enough to eat tonight?”
“Between pork, potatoes, and wedding cake, I’d say so.”
“We’ll bring snacks just in case.” He paused at the back door. “Ready to cross the threshold?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“No,” he said. “Not according to the Romans.”
Blue zoomed ahead of us, clattering through her dog door. “What do the Romans have to do with it?” I asked.
“There are two reasons the groom carries the bride.” He readjusted me in his arms. “One is that evil spirits might try to get you through the floor. In my arms, you’re protected.”
“Aw.” I patted his chest. “How sweet. What’s the other reason?”
“Back in the day, brides were supposed to act distraught about being married off. Basically,” he lowered his forehead to mine, “I’m dragging my unwilling bride into my home.”
My stomach clenched with the dip in his voice, his breath near my mouth. “I don’t think anyone can argue I wasn’t willing,” I said.
“Knowing all that, would you rather walk in yourself?”
I got the sense Manning wanted to see this through. On a regular day, there was no place I’d rather be than in his arms—it was only more true of our wedding night. Slowly, I shook my head. Holding each other’s gaze, Manning stooped to jiggle the door open. As he walked us through, my skin tingled, my nipples hardening with anticipation for our night ahead.
