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Liam
Three years later
Irecline in my favorite chair on the porch of the ranch, casually blowing up balloons for the celebration today. Yes, I realize that balloons don’t scream elegance, but I like them. Plus, I don’t want to put myself out doing anything else. I can’t get my designer outfit dirty before the party.
As I reach my point of ultimate relaxation, I hear a gut-wrenching scream come from the kitchen. I know it as Asher’s voice.
The half-inflated balloon falls out of my mouth as I run inside in a panic.
I find Asher in the kitchen in his Giant's football apron, waving away thick clouds of gray air. As he opens the oven, the smoke detector starts blaring.
“I take it the cupcakes didn’t go according to plan?” I ask, leaning against the wall, giggling at the vision of domestic bliss in front of me.
Asher audibly sighs at a tray of severely burnt cupcakes and tosses them on the countertop.
“Please don’t act like you don’t do the same thing. I remember you burning the hamburgers we made last week until they turned into meat paste,” Asher reminds me.
“If I recall, I forgot those due to more important matters,” I smile at him and wink. I did accidentally burn the burgers that night, but I know Asher didn’t care one bit.
Asher gives me a brief smirk but then refocuses back on to the cupcakes.
“Fuck cupcakes. That’s a little bit on the nose anyway, isn’t it?” Asher mumbles.
“Hey, I’m no cupcake,” I say.
“Well, you also didn’t tell me what else you wanted. All you said was that you didn’t want a cake because bakeries always overcharged for big events,” Asher exhales and throws the cupcakes in the garbage.
He looks a little tense, and I can’t help but admire the lines on his face when he gives a stern look.
“Come here, handsome. Don’t worry about a thing, especially not today,” I tell him in my most comforting voice.
“What will we feed the guests?” Asher asks.
“I don’t care. They won’t starve,” I dismiss his worries.
“Who goes to a wedding and doesn’t have cake or cupcakes or something?” Asher insists.
“I will call Sam and tell her to pick up as many cakes as she can find at the grocery store,” I suggest, moving closer toward my unfairly handsome yet sometimes neurotic soon-to-be husband.
Asher finally releases his tension for a moment and kisses me on my head.
“Ok. I give up in the kitchen for today. I want to enjoy myself. You order cupcakes or cookies for delivery, and I will go get dressed,” Asher says.
I feel happy he seems willing to have fun now.
“Sounds good. When does your mom get here with the girls?” I ask.
“They will arrive shortly, I’m sure. She said the girls look adorable,” Asher tells me. He comes seconds away from showing me a picture on his phone, but I stop him first.
“I bet they look like angels, but I want it to stay a surprise until the ceremony,” I request.
Asher nods and puts his phone back in his pocket.
We recently adopted two beautiful girls from an orphanage in Kazakhstan. Asher and I knew that we wanted children before we knew that we wanted to get married. The girls provide so much love, but Asher and I both think they love their Golden Retriever puppy more.
Asher’s mother took them for the day to let us enjoy ourselves in peace. However, I miss my little girls. I know Asher does, too.
“The union commences in less than two hours,” Asher slightly squealed.
