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“So demanding,” I teased as I climbed into the tub with her.
After our bath, we went to bed without sex like an old married couple. The fact was, after the long plane ride home, the various excursions we had gone on, and the massive amount of sex we had been having, we were both beyond exhausted.
I spooned her, her head resting on my bicep, and it took no time at all for me to fall asleep.
When I woke the following morning to an empty bed, I ran my palm across her side to find it was still warm. I stretched and yawned before bringing her pillow to my face and breathing her in like a love-sick fool.
Climbing from the bed, I slid on a pair of my favorite lounge pants and went to search the house for Allison. The smell of bacon wafted throughout the house, and I followed the scent until I found my wife cooking breakfast in the kitchen.
She was wearing one of my old college T-shirts, which was too big for her. It was hanging from one of her shoulders, her bare skin glowing in the early morning sunlight. Her hair was up in a messy knot on top of her head. My eyes dropped from her head, down over my old T-shirt, before taking in her long tan legs and tiny pretty feet. Her neon pink toes stood out against the hardwood flooring beneath her feet.
She was singing off-key to a song on the radio while swaying her hips to the beat of the music. It was so cute, and I hated to interrupt her, but I did. Coming up behind her, I grabbed her hips and pulled her to me, moving my hips to the beat of the music with her.
She laughed and set the spatula down on the marble countertop. I spun her around, grabbing her hand and hip to dance with her. It was strange. Our first dance at our wedding had been stiff and impersonal, but here, in the middle of my kitchen in our pajamas, we danced and smiled at each other like a couple who had been in love for ages.
I could admit I didn’t love Allison before our honeymoon, but things were different now. Now, I knew I had made the right decision. My family had pushed, and I had married her for all the wrong reasons. Reasons I hadn’t thought about once since we left for Bora Bora, but marrying her was, by far, the best thing I could have ever done.
We ate breakfast together. She sat on the counter beside the stove, and I stood between her legs, feeding her little bits of crispy bacon.
“Should we leave the house today?” I asked her. “Maybe go visit the family some?”
She stiffened a bit, her natural smile turning into something forced.
“I mean, we don’t have to if you don’t want to. I was just thinking—”
“No. Let’s do it,” she said, cutting me off.
“Are you sure?”
She nodded, her topknot bouncing with the motion. “I’m positive. We have to face the world at some point, right?”
I had no idea what she was talking about, but I agreed. “Right.”
