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“Exactly.” He presses a kiss against my neck. “It’ll be fantastic.”
How quickly he forgets. The unnecessary attention makes me itchy. It’s this exact reason that we eloped and only invited my three sisters and his immediate family, which worked out for the best. Three days before the wedding we found out that I was four months pregnant. We were so caught up in the throws of each other, in planning a wedding and the utter relief it felt to find someone you connect with on so many levels, that not having a period completely slipped my mind.
Our daughter looks just like Levi, taller than the other preschoolers. The good news is she’s easy to find in a crowd. Our son is only six months old, but it looks like he too will be following in his fathers oversized footsteps.
“You’ll be great.” Levi whispers into my ear. “All of your sisters will be there and just say the word and we’re out of there.”
I nod, then turn to face my handsome husband. It never gets old waking up to him, or falling asleep to the gentle sound of his snores—though, he denies it. Levi is the man of my dreams, and the second we started dating, he pushed his start time in the wood shed back to eight o’clock so that I could get my beauty rest. What a guy.
A vivid image of the first night we were together runs through my mind. My center tingles at the memory. “Maybe we will cut out early.” I wrap my arms around his shoulders. Levi’s dimple makes an appearance.
“Oh yeah? What do you have cooked up, Mrs. Maxwell?”
“That table. You know…thetable.”
“The one that’s still in my wood shed? Yeah.” He draws out the word.
“I think it’s time we utilize it again.” I clear my throat. I’ve never been great at dirty talk. “You know what I’m saying.”
Levi presses his mouth against mine, parting my lips with his smooth, silky tongue. In the doorway of our bedroom, I let my husband kiss me long and deep.
“I know what you’re saying, Nona, but now you’ve got me wanting to see that table right the fuck now.”
“Easy, boy.” I reach down and press my hand against his rock hard length. “This will give you an excuse to come home early.”
“You’re killing me.”
I slowly walk back to the mirror, swinging my hips dramatically. My husband is right. Tonight is a celebration of us. Of our life together, of our community involvement, and the relief of finally being able to open our business.
I secure my earring back and give myself a final once over. Not bad. Not bad at all, I think to myself knowing damn good and well that this red dress will end up in a pile on the floor of my husband’s barn later. I mean,woodshop, of course.
