by HJ Bellus
I can hear the smile on his face as he watches me struggle. Like always, he only lets me fidget for a bit before his two large hands grab my waist. I’m pulled back down until my heels hit the pavement. Bentley’s large body presses into my back as his arms snake around my waist. I melt into him and tilt my head, giving him access.
“Mmmmm. My favorite smell. You.” He kisses my neck between each word. “Sweet, sweet vanilla cherries.”
“I love you,” I whisper loud enough for him to hear me.
“This dress is going to be the death of me.” Bentley pushes his hips into my ass, and I know what he’s referring to.
“C’mon, number eleven. We’ve got a game to win, and then there will be plenty of time tonight to fool around.” I spin in his arms to face him.
Big mistake. Our lips brush against each other’s. We still for a moment drinking in one another’s taste. It starts out as a slow burn, but turns into an inferno in only a matter of seconds. My hands roam through the back of his hair, clutching tight when he palms my ass, pressing further into me.
I groan in protest when he pulls away, instantly missing the feel of his lips on mine. Any other day I’d burrow down into his chest, clinging onto him for dear life. However, I refuse to stress Mom out by wrecking my makeup and hair.
“Don’t forget we have some crowns to win as well.” He smacks my ass.
I’m up in the air, screaming out in surprise before my ass lands behind the driver’s wheel. A grinning Bentley stares up at me. Tricky little bugger he is.
I’m careful when I slide over to not tear any of the tight lace on my dress. I’m unable to straddle the stick shift like I normally do. Even though I have my car, we are always in Bentley’s truck. Him behind the wheel and me right by his side and that’s how we roll to the Homecoming of our senior year.
Chapter 3
Four and Half Years Later
“There is only one happiness in this life, to love and be loved.” -George Sand
“Momma, quit it.” I swat my hand over my head.
Her tears haven’t stopped all morning. I’ve done my best to not let any of my own slide down my face.
“Okay, okay.” She throws her arms up in the air. “I’m going to check on the men.”
“Good. Go bother Daddy.” I grin at her and throw my arms open for a hug. “I love you, Momma.”
We hold each other for a long time. The first tear pricks at the corner of my eye. I refuse to let the waterworks even begin because I know they won’t stop on a perfect day like this one.
“I love you, too, Birdie,” she whispers in my ear before pulling back. She bustles out of the room, leaving me alone for the first time today.
The silence wraps around me in a gentle hug. I let out a long breath and look into the mirror. It’s the day every little girl dreams about. My palms smooth down my white wedding dress. The intricate lace and beadwork make me smile. It’s not a Cinderella ball gown, but rather fitted from the top all the way to the floor.
The front hangs higher than the back, showcasing my high heel cowboy boots. It’s my twist on the day. Call it my added flair; it’s what I’m known for. I twirl in a full circle and stop with my back to the mirror, peeking over my shoulder admiring the back of the dress or the lack of it. The diamond cut-out exposes the majority of my back.
Today is perfect. I’m marrying my best friend at the place I fell in love with him. We spent hours fishing at the pond when we were younger then it ended up as our go-to spot for making out, which led to more. Bentley Foster has been my one and only. He won over my heart before it even had a choice to decide.
The first tear spills over when I study our bed. The house Papa Wally had built for us on the hill near our pond is simple at best, but perfect. A two-level home with a wraparound porch and three bedrooms is our piece of forever.
I’m a girl on my wedding day that couldn’t ask for a single thing. There’s not one thing that’s missing today. I run the scar on the pad of my pointer finger over my lips. The raised skin has been there for years and a simple reminder of my love for Bentley and life in general.
The creaking of the door lets me know I’m not alone anymore. “Squirt.”
I turn to my Papa Wally dressed in his idea of a suit. He wasn’t about to wear one of those damn monkey suits. Nope, he’s in his fanciest dress jacket, white button-up shirt, blue Wranglers, and town cowboy boots. The only thing missing is his cowboy hat. He took the time to comb through his white hair. He’s a handsome cat.
And just the presence of him standing before me on my wedding day is enough for the dam of tears to fall freely. Like every other time in my life, my Papa wraps me up in his arms and lets me cry. In the past, the majority of tears his chest caught were sad and painful, but today is so different. There’s no emotional terror of having my dad being deployed, the agony of the day Bentley enlisted in the army, or heartache at all.
Everything is perfect. Each tear is a representation of how blessed my life is.
“Now, no crying little girl.” Papa runs his hands up and down my back. “It’s a happy day. It’s not like you got out fished or anything.”
The last part makes me crack up. Just because I fell in love with Bentley Foster, it doesn’t mean my competitive spirit was wiped away. Everything we do ends up being competitive. It’s who we are.
“Here.” Papa takes a step back with each of his bones creaking and cracking. “Bentley wanted me to give this to you.”
He hands me a blue, velvet jewelry box. I bite down on my bottom lip and shake my head.
“We said no gifts.” I clutch the box in my hand.
“You know he would have to one-up you.” Papa leans in and kisses my forehead. “You look beautiful, squirt. I’m sure proud of you.”
“No more.” I stomp my foot in a worthless effort. “I kept the tears back with Momma, and now they won’t stop.”
“Let ‘em flow, squirt. It’s a good day. A real good day.” Papa creeps back over to the door. “I’ll be downstairs waiting on ya.”
Once the door shuts, I open the lid to the box. A scrap of paper covers the contents of the box. I recognize Bentley’s handwriting right away from all of the notes and letters we wrote each other back in high school. The sight of it always makes my knees weak.
Future Mrs. Foster,
Quit rolling your eyes and cussing me out; you know you love me! Yes, we agreed on no gifts today, but you also know I have to always one-up you. In romantic terms, that means I love to spoil my queen. This necklace is you. It’s our love wrapped up in a piece of metal. You’ll always be my Birdie and my one true love.
Forever,
Bentley
And the real tears fall hard and fast with no sign of stopping. The dainty silver chain swings back and forth, brushing my knuckles while I run my finger over the silhouette of the bird with its wings spread wide. Two milky white pearls dangle next to the bird along with each of our birthstones. M & B etched on the back of the bird. This is pure Bentley. He never ceases to amaze me and when I think I can’t fall any further in love with him, I do.
My fingers shake, making it impossible for me to latch the necklace around my neck.
“Oh, dear.” The bedroom door shuts with gusto. “Here, Birdie.”
Momma grabs the back of the necklace, making quick work of clasping it. She rounds me, adjusting the pendant in place.
“It’s perfect.” She kisses my cheek. “Simply perfect.”
All of her tears have dried up, leaving me a sobbing mess. Happiness. Elation. Sheer joy doesn’t even begin to describe what I’m feeling right now.
“Sit down, baby girl.” Momma’s gentle hands guide me down into a chair while she goes about fixing my makeup. Her hands are natural applying makeup and styling hair. It’s her profession, and she’s the best at it.
“Momma?”
“Yeah.” She doesn’t stop what she’s doing as she responds.
“Did you know you always loved Dad? I m
ean, how did you know?”
“I just did.” She shrugs, touching up my eyeliner. “You know when you’re in love, and your heart knows when it’s the right one.”
“I’ve always loved Bentley. God, I love him so much.”
She chuckles lightly. “Oh, I know, Birdie. Dad and I used to swing on the front porch watching you two play, and we even knew it then.”
I grab her hand, stopping her. “I love you, Momma. I don’t tell you enough and know I can be a handful.”
“God gave me the best daughter. I love you, too. Now and forever.”
A loud banging at the door sounds before it blows open. Sergeant First Class Jones strides in with no introduction. My dad. The Army has been and always will be his first love. He’s dedicated his entire life to it and sacrificed so much for it. I used to find myself hating him for loving the Army more than me when I was younger. But not now. It took me years to realize it’s who he is, and I couldn’t be prouder of him.
His sharp, crisp dress blues make my heart swell with pride. He’s a handsome old man, aging well with a fit body and salt and pepper buzzed hair.
“I’m here for the bride.” He holds out his hand to me while bending over to kiss Momma on her cheek. I don’t miss the handful of ass he also grabs. Funny how things change as you get older because that gesture used to make me gag and cringe. It’s not that I enjoy it now, but I view it more as a loving gesture that I can only hope to share with Bentley after thirty years of marriage.
Chapter 4
“If I had a flower for every time I thought of you, I could walk in my garden forever.” -Alfred Lord Tennyson
The simple, exquisite atmosphere surrounding the pond takes my breath away. The crisp autumn air is firing all of my senses to life as I take each precise step down the aisle on the arm of my dad.
Most of the faces are a familiar blur. Bentley’s mom, Susan, stands at the end of the first row with her hands clutched over her heart. She’s a second mom to me and always will be. No monster mother-in-law here. Nope, scored in that department as well. Her husband, Frank, is at her side with a familiar, warm smile covering his face, and I know exactly what Bentley will look like as he ages right down to dress blues his dad proudly wears.
The damn tears come back when I make eye contact with my future husband. His bronzed skin, strong jawline, piercing brown eyes, and broad shoulders always punch me in the gut. His black hair is clipped in a tight buzz cut. His dress blues are my reminder of the career path he chose and the same that took him away from me during his first deployment.
I remember to breathe when his dimples light up. Bentley’s eyes are full of unshed tears. His reverent stare as he takes me in is my final undoing. I unlace my arm from my dad’s and rush straight to him. The laughter streaming from our guests is muted by the beauty and magic of the day.
The bouquet comprised of wildflowers falls from my hand. I can’t get to Bentley fast enough. His muscular chest catches me like it has so many other times. I’m home in his arms. I don’t pull back until Pastor Turner clears his throat several times.
When I do lean back, it takes everything inside me to not taste his full, bowtie lips. Bentley has the lips of an angel and knows how to use them. He’s a fine wine that I’m always ready to devour.
We both stare at each other like lovesick fools. Hell, we are beyond lovesick fools. We’ve shared it all throughout our years. We survived the latter years of elementary, the awkward puberty stage, the judgmental trying years of high school, and a year of deployment convincing us we will make it through anything. Bentley breaks the moment with a sideways glance to Pastor Turner. He’s always been the rule follower out of the two of us.
“I love it.” I grab the pendant on my necklace.
He winks, nods, and takes my hands in his.
Dad is the first one to speak up. “No need to give this wild child away. Bentley has had her for years now. We love you, son.”
This gains another round of laughter from our guests. It’s muted again because all I can hear, see, feel, and smell is the man standing in front of me. Neither of us looks away from each other.
“Was it worth the wait?” Bentley whispers.
I nod.
“Told you I’d be home for you, Birdie. I’ll always be.”
“I love you, Bentley.”
Pastor Turner gains control over the ceremony and proceeds. Again, it’s all a blur in an echoing tunnel with Bentley and my future at the dead center. His grip on my hands tightens, keeping me grounded as each second ticks by. Rings and vows are exchanged with ease and grace. It’s all as natural as our souls connecting years ago at the pond.
“You may now kiss the bride,” Pastor Turner’s deep, gruff voice announces.
Bentley doesn’t miss a beat before pulling me into him. It happens so fast. I’m bent back in an earth-shattering, soul-seeking kiss. Bentley’s arms keep me secure to his chest, not making the position awkward. Our tongues meet and even though we’ve kissed a thousand times before, it’s like our first kiss. I’m his wife, and he’s mine.
My hands wrap around his neck, and I kiss him back with everything I have. We ignore the cheers from our friends and family. The length of the kiss is far beyond the accepted time, but I’ve never been one to follow the rules. It’s not until we are breathless that our lips part.
Bentley doesn’t stand us up right. Instead, he brushes his lips against mine over and over until we are kissing again. We ignore our parents’ threats, drowning in one another. His taste is always sweet and minty with the slightest taste of a cigar. It makes my insides melt every single time. I’m the luckiest girl in the world.
“I think we are about to be boo’ed out of our wedding,” Bentley mumbles into my lips.
“So.” I peck his lips. “Can we leave for our honeymoon now? Screw the rest.”
His laughter rumbles against my love bruised lips. “Our moms would have our asses.”
Bentley pulls me up into a standing position, but I don’t stay here long before he sweeps me off my feet and not by a kiss this time. I squeal then wrap my arm around his neck. I peer down, making sure all of my goods are still in my dress.
“Boy, that’s for the threshold,” his dad hollers out, causing all of the guests to erupt in a roar of laughter.
“Yeah.” I pat Bentley’s chest with my bouquet.
“Couldn’t help myself, Birdie.” He nuzzles the sensitive skin in the crook of my neck.
It’s a damn good thing we cherished our kiss because once Bentley reaches the end of the flower petal covered aisle, we are slammed with picture after picture then a long-ass greeting line. My face hurts from smiling, my body is exhausted, and my damn scalp is throbbing from the metal bobby pins.
I lean into Bentley’s side. He’s deep in conversation with an old friend from high school. He doesn’t miss a beat in conversation, catching and pulling me into his side. He’d sweep me up in his arms if I asked him to without blinking. I lay my head on his chest, knowing I should be careful not to get makeup on him, but the excitement of the day has sucked all of the energy out of me.
“Doing okay, Birdie?” He kisses the top of my head, murmuring out his question once the majority of the guests have made their way under the enormous white tent.
“My feet hurt,” I mumble.
“Let’s go eat, dance, cut the cake, and then we’ll be out of here.”
I grumble, making him laugh. I was notorious for throwing fits and getting my way when I was a little girl. I’ve matured, but hey, still have to grumble once in a while.
I straighten out my dress, grab Bentley’s hand, and begin walking toward the head table.
“Baby.” I peer up at him. “Are you sad you didn’t have any groomsmen?”
It’s no secret Bentley has a ton of friends. Hell, the man’s the hometown hero now and back when we were in high school. He talks to everyone and lends a helping hand whenever it’s needed.
“No, I only needed one person th
ere. The same one I need the rest of my life. Nothing else matters.” He squeezes my hand while waving to someone with his other.
“I love you.” I lay my head on his shoulder and let him guide me through the crowd.
I often pinch myself to make sure this man isn’t a damn dream. He’s been my best and only friend since the day he pulled the fishing hook out of my finger. Sure, I had acquaintances in high school, and some could be considered friends, but I never let anyone in too close because there was never a void to fill after Bentley.
It always drove my mom insane that I didn’t have any close friends that were girls. Hell, I drove her nuts since the moment she realized I’d be forever a tomboy at heart. But it nearly killed her off when I refused to have a maid of honor or any bridesmaids. The only way I’d have girls stand behind me was if Bentley wanted his friends at his side. In the end, it was the two of us.
“You need to eat, Birdie.” Mom places her hands on top of my shoulders and kisses my cheek.
I look up at her and smile. “I’m too tired.”
“Another bite of your prime rib, it’s delicious. Then it’s your first dance.”
“Okay, Mommy.” I bat my eyelashes to match my voice.
Typically, she’d swat me in the back of the head since I’m sitting down, but she’s too soon distracted by our neighbor, Shelly, who happens to be one of her best friends. I watch her flow away in her gorgeous yellow dress. My mother is the definition of elegance, grace, and beauty. I see glimpses of it in me, but I’m nowhere near her level. I love that woman.
“Bite.” A warm piece of prime rib rubs along my lips. “C’mon, Birdie, do I need to use the airplane?”
I look over to Bentley who has a shit-eating grin on his face. It’s his favorite pastime to harass me about my helicopter Mom. Bentley has two brothers, so he has never been able to understand my mom and her tactics. He claims his mom threw slop on the table and it was first come first serve. It wasn’t like that at all, but it sure was a world different than how my mom raised me.
