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“Then I’ll do it.”
* * *
Sabrina
The morningof my wedding day, I wake up terrified.
It’s not that I don’t want to be with Adrik—I’m more head-over-heels obsessed with him than I’ve ever been. And we’ve been living and working together for over two years now, so it’s not like there’s any big surprises of what he’s really like.
I guess it’s the thought of me as a wife that scares me. I never saw myself that way, I don’t know exactly what it means or how I’m supposed to be.
Adrik and I weren’t planning to see each other until we meet at the venue.
I text him at 6:20 in the morning, saying:
Are you awake?
He responds a moment later:
I am now …
Sorry.
Don’t be sorry. What do you need, baby girl?
I need to see you.
He picks me up from my parents’ house thirty minutes later, driving a rental car. Just the sight of him calms me down immensely. We drive out to the Morton Arboretum so we can take a walk on the forest trails.
I’m still wearing the shorts and t-shirt I slept in, hair up in a messy ponytail. Adrik has on a crisp white t that shows how tanned he’s gotten now that it’s fully summertime. His hair is the longest it’s been in a while, black and shaggy. When he runs his hands through it, it makes dramatic shapes: a wave swooping down over one eye, or two curtains on either side of his face.
He crosses the loamy paths with long, rangy strides. I have to walk quickly to keep up with him, which is the pace I prefer. The pine trees surround us like hundreds of pillars holding up the pale blue vault of the sky. The air smells damp and fresh, still cool before the heat of the day.
We’re alone save for the birds in the trees.
The stillness of this place makes me peaceful.
Adrik is right at home—he’s always seemed more animal than man. It’s the way he moves—graceful, natural, seemingly without effort. The way those narrow blue eyes flick to a wren on a branch, or garter snake disappearing under the brush. And most of all, the way he seizes me and presses his face against the side of my neck, inhaling deeply my scent.
He's never ashamed of what his body wants.
My body wants him, all the time—his breath, his touch, his proximity. The week he’s spent at the hotel with his family while I’m at home with mine has been fucking with me. It was nice to sleep in my old bed one last time, but I miss his weight and his warmth curled around me in the night. I miss waking up with his mouth between my thighs. This is why I’m on edge—I haven’t had those constant daily contacts that mellow me out.
He holds my hand now, his fingers interlocked with mine.
“Are you having second thoughts?” he asks me.
“No …”
“What is it, then?”
“It’s just … I don’t ever want you to feel trapped. I want us to be together because we want to be together, not because we signed something. And … I don’t want to disappoint you.” I hesitate, pausing on the path, not quite looking at him. “If I’m not the wife you thought I would be.”
He laughs, softly.
“Sabrina … I want to be married to you because that’s what fits how I feel about you. Calling you my girlfriend is fucking ludicrous. You’re the other half of me. I couldn’t leave you any more than I could cut myself in two.”
“And what about the other part?”
