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… And then he opened his mouth.
“I feel like such a backwater, barefoot heathen here…” he whispered softly, smiling at her, holding up his menu to hide his face from anyone else but her as he winked playfully.
Emily couldn’t help the laugh to bubbled forth.
“If you kick off your shoes, I’ll kick off mine under the table,” she hissed softly, grinning. “I think the tablecloth will hide us.”
“Nahhh… I’m trying to impress this hot chick tonight and if I’m lucky? I’m gonna take her home with me…”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yep,” he said happily, looking supremely proud.
“What’s your wife going to say?”
“She’s the hot chick,” he whispered loudly as the waiter walked up, causing Emily to flush with happiness at his words. They ordered two sweet teas, and a dish of warm rolls appeared before them, almost too pretty to eat. The bread had been formed into almost a pattern of wedges mimicking a flower with a butter pat on a tiny plate almost the size of a playing card.
“Well,” Emily began, smiling at her handsome husband, who looked incredibly debonair in his button-up dress shirt and tie, “If you don’t mind… Mrs. Backwater-Barefoot-Heathen is going to tear into the bread with her hands.”
John grinned happily and smiled at her as she reached for the bread, tearing off two pieces and depositing one on his plate – and her own.
“You don’t think badly of me and my lack of manners?”
“Do you think badly of me?”
“Never,” she smiled. “I think you are perfect for me in so many ways.”
They ordered their meal, laughed and talked easily, not caring what anyone thought, and she realized that nothing was more perfect than seeing John there, opposite of her, and the way he looked at her.
“To best friends,” she said suddenly, holding up her glass. “And sweet tea.”
“To my best friend,” he replied, gently tapping his glass against hers. “Who is the most incredible spouse and lover a man could ever wish for.”
“Shhh…” she chuckled nervously, glancing around.
“I’ve never been so happy in my entire life – and there was a reason I bought that ring,” John said openly. “I may have been scared to death and chickened out… but I bought it because I knew deep down inside that you were meant to be with me – and maybe that is why we got married.”
“We were drunk.”
“Emily,” John smiled tenderly at her. “I’m thirty-two. I’ve been to more bars than I could count on my hands and feet, been drunk enough that I thought I was going to fall off the earth when I turned twenty-one, but I have never blacked out so much that I lost complete control over what I was doing…”
“You knew…” she whispered, stunned.
“Parts of it are exceedingly fuzzy… like the tattoo, the cab ride, and our vows, but I was aware of other moments, and knew we’d gotten married at some point. I think I gave up fighting what I desperately wanted more than anything else in the world, and just gave in…” John admitted.
Emily nodded.
“I would have married you drunk or sober,” she breathed, looking at him. “That’s why I was so happy the second time, because I wanted to savor those memories and the knowledge that we were both fully cognizant of us promising our futures to each other once again.”
“Every time I kiss you, it’s a silent promise from me,” he murmured tenderly, reaching across the table for her hand.
“I’m just so nervous sometimes t-that… what if you are disappointed or get upset with me? What if I am not what you want someday? Or when you return this magic between us isn’t there?”
“Then we rekindle the fire and nurture what this is…”
“And if there is a baby?” she whispered nervously, not looking at him. “I know you were disappointed I wasn’t on the pill, but I’ve never had a reason to need to take it and…”
“Em,” he said in a hushed voice, squeezing her hand, causing her to look up at him warily. “I will still love you - and I always will. To be honest, I’ll be scared to death, but I’m more terrified to lose you than I would be to step into the role of a father.”
