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And, thankfully, no hard feelings from Jerry when the women took over dressing his little girl. That was probably because I immediately asked him to helpmepick out something dashing but simple for my wedding suit. When I said, “Maybe even something custom-made for all the men in the wedding party. What do you think?” he was all in with sound advice.
When I mentioned that I wanted both of Samantha’s men to stand for me, even though I knew Davie would normally give Samantha away, their reaction told me I’d done the right thing. Likewise, when my beautiful fiancée asked both my sisters to stand for her, they burst into tears.
It was a joyous occasion. Dad kicked in and had a role to play, too. He was responsible for choosing a place and a meal for our wedding lunch after the mid-morning ceremony.
He outdid himself. With Davie lending a hand, they decked out their impressive suburban backyard garden for a wedding luncheon. He hired a professional chef to come in and take over Mom’s kitchen while we were at City Hall.
Samantha was not allowed to bake a thing, but Dad quietly recruited Alex to make a wedding cake at the chef-for-hire’s commercial kitchen. They conspired to bring it in behind our backs.
Best. Secret. Ever.
Alex’s girlfriend, Amy and her husband, and all of my employees were invited.
It was a festive, tearfully happy, and delicious affair!
Then off we went to Hawai’i a couple of days later, with stopovers on the way west in Nashville (with a concert at the Grand Old Opry and after-show BBQ) and San Francisco (an evening at a comedy club after a huge dinner in Chinatown). On the way back home, we stopped in Las Vegas for a show (butnot very good food, alas) and in Houston to spend hours in their Museum of Fine Art (and to eat more BBQ).
On our last flight home, we teased each other, “We’ll have to go back to work to rest and recover from our honeymoon vacation!”
Once back home, I said, “Darling wife of mine? I don’t want to recover from this feeling. I don’t want to recover from you. I’m yours. Forever.”
My wife kissed me.
“Husband of mine?”
Ooh, I liked being her husband!
“Mmm?”
“Take me to our marriage bed.”
For our first night back home, she slowly undressed me. I was itching to touch her but she wouldn’t let me.
When I was stripped bare and stiff for action, she beckoned quietly, “Take my clothes off. But sing to me, baby, while you do.”
I sangNothin’s Gonna Change My Love for Youand slowly unbuttoned, unzipped, rolled down, and peeled off all her clothing. My eyes on hers the whole way.
She was in tears when I finished.
“Aw, beautiful, don’t cry. Love is a happy thing, right?”
My Samantha nodded, “Baby? Make love to me. No condom tonight. I want to feel all of you. I want you to feel me.”
“But, darlin’ …?”
“You’re okay with …?”
“Yes, and …”
“Really, truly fine if … ?”
“Mmm …“
With that completely clarified, I melted into an altered state of pure bliss.
Samantha saw it. Couldn’t miss it. Didn’t. She took my face in her hands and kissed me gently.
Nirvana.
