I swallowed hard and tried to hold down the emotions that kept trying to bubble to the surface. “I, Bryson, take you, William, to be my husband. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life.”
“You have declared your consent before the Church. May the Lord in his goodness strengthen your consent and fill you both with his blessings. What God has joined, men must not divide,” Father Jacobs declared.
The crowd responded with a resounding, “Amen.”
“May I have the rings?”
Sophie and Mr. Forsyth gave the priest the rings to bless.
“May the Lord bless these rings, which you give to each other as the sign of your love and fidelity.”
Looking into my eyes, Will slid the ring on my finger, and said, “Bryson, take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”
I mimicked his movement and words. “William, take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”
I could no longer hold back my tears and Will couldn’t hold back taking me in his arms and planting a kiss on my lips.
“By the power vested in me, by the Holy Catholic Church, and the state of South Carolina, I now pronounce you husband and wife. And you obviously know the part about kissing the bride.”
A hard constant tapping on the shoulder got my attention. I pulled away from Will’s lips to the sound of laughter and the recessional music. Will grabbed my hand and we walked side-by-side as the new Mr. and Mrs. William Grant Forsyth.
After what felt like three hours of nonstop wedding photos, Will and I finally made it to our reception. A few steps into the building, I pulled him into the small office just inside the entrance and shut the door.
Chuckling, he said, “Bryson, what are you doing?”
“I have a surprise for you.” I attempted a sexy smile.
“A surprise, huh?” His hands landed on my hips and he spun me around so that my back was against the door. “I’m liking this marriage thing already.”
I shoved him back and said, “Not so fast, lover boy.”
He followed my gaze down as I slowly lifted my gown, revealing the sexy red heels. Will froze for several seconds. When he lifted his head up to look at me pure desire fired up his eyes.
“God damn, Bryson.”
“Shh, Will! We’re right next to the church.”
“I know . . .”
Extending my foot, I rubbed the side of his leg. “You like?”
“I more than like but there’s a problem . . .”
“A problem?” A twinge of humiliation pricked my stomach.
He grabbed my hips and pushed me harder against the door. Will’s lips zeroed in on the spot just below my ear that caused me to melt into him every time.
Against my neck, he mumbled, “I have to walk in that reception full of family, friends, and business acquaintances. Be nice and charming. All the while picturing those heels in the air as I fuck you.”
Will was never much on the sweet romantic talk. On the surface his words were crude but I knew his heart.
His lips continued their descent toward my chest.
“Will . . .” I giggled, shoving him away. “We have to get in there now or our mothers will send out a search team.”
“Mothers. Mood killed.” He groaned.
“I know but just think, in a few short hours, all this will be yours.” I wiggled as my hands slid down my body.
“You’re killing me.”
“Come on,” I said, grabbing his hand.
As we entered the large hall the breath was sucked from my lungs. The plain empty hall had been transformed into something out of a fairy tale. Both the moms wanted to keep the reception as much as a surprise as possible. They were both so excited so Will and I played along. I’d been privy to a few items, giving my opinion on tablecloths, centerpieces, and flowers. But I never imagined it would turn into the sight before my eyes. The moms had outdone themselves.
Lighted spheres hung at varying heights from the ceiling, cloaking the entire hall in a romantic warm amber glow. To the right of the main entrance was the gift table piled high with boxes wrapped in silver, gold, and white shiny paper. To the left the open bar with every type of drink known to mankind. Next to the bar were long tables, four rows deep, covered in food. Across from the food guest tables were set up draped in tablecloths that matched my dress. Deep red roses in simple clear glass vases served as centerpieces. And a five-piece band was set up in the farthest right corner. But what stole the show for me was the back wall. Black tulle with twinkling amber lights behind it covered the entire area. In front of the wall of lights sat a round table draped in matching tulle and our gorgeous five-tier vanilla bean cake with white buttercream frosting with an elegant scroll design.
Walking a few steps ahead of Will, I said in amazement, “Oh my god!”
He wrapped his meaty arms around my waist, kissed my neck, and whispered, “Does it meet your approval?”
“It looks like a fairy tale.”
“Well, you are my princess.”
I turned in Will’s arms. “And you’re my prince.”
The day was a little girl’s dream come true. I had my tall dark and handsome prince, my gown, and now my kingdom. Everything was perfect.
“I’m knee-deep in sap and ready to hurl.” I whipped around to find my brother doubled over, holding a beer with one hand and his stomach with the other.
“Ryan, you’re such an ass.” I snapped in the typical annoyed younger sister way.
“Better than being a married pussy. Which, by the way, Will, you’re already starting to sound like one.”
I took a step toward my brother. “Don’t insult my husband like that. At least he’ll be getting some tonight and every night for the rest of his life.”
Raising his drink, Ryan toasted. “My baby sister, ladies and gentleman.”
Sophie walked up, holding two glasses of champagne. “Now kids, play nice.”
I took one of the glasses from Sophie. “He started it.”
“Will, control your woman,” Ryan teased.
Will playfully slapped Ryan on the back. “Sorry man, you’re on your own. Besides, the more fired up she gets now the hotter she’ll be later.”
Ryan’s face contorted. “Ugh, I gotta go burn my ears off.”
My brother was practically sideswiped by Mom as she swooshed past him.
Sophie grabbed my glass of champange as my mom grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me into a hug. Her eyes already misty. “I can’t get over my baby girl is married.”
Mom was clutching me so tight I was losing all feeling in my arms. Wiggling my body, I tried to break free with no luck. Finally, Mrs. Forsyth came to my rescue.
Prying us apart, my new mother-in-law said, “Now, Teresa, let the child breathe.”
My mom stepped back and sniffled into her silk teal handkerchief that matched her dress. “I’m just so happy.” Tilting her head, she gazed at me and Will as more tears threatened. “The two of you look so perfect together.”
I took the handkerchief from my mom and dabbed the moisture just below her eyes. “If you don’t stop crying we’ll have to redo your makeup again.”
“Well, you better get the mascara out.”
Sensing I needed some help, Sophie placed her arm around Mom’s shoulder and led her to the bar. “I bet some Southern Comfort and ginger ale will dry those tears.”
Mrs. Forsyth tugged on Will’s arm. “Sweetheart, there are some people your father and I want you to meet.”
“Mom, Bry and I just walked in.”
“It’s okay. I need to get used to meeting business associates now that I’m Mrs. William Forsyth.” I beamed up at my husband.
“No need for you to come, dear. Go enjoy the party. I’ll deliver William back when I’m done showing him off
.” The smile she sent me wasn’t the warm and cozy type. It was more the, I’m the queen bee, back-off type.
The heightened emotions of the day could have been the reason why I heard a bit more sting in my mother-in-law’s tone. I decided now was not the time or the place to act like a bridezilla and demand my new husband stay by my side. Besides, the woman had been instrumental in creating this dream reception. I didn’t want to appear ungrateful.
“Oh, okay.”
“Bry, you sure?” Will asked.
Out the corner of my eye I swore I saw his mother cringe.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Go do what you need to do. I’ll come find you for our first dance. I can’t wait to try out my new dancing shoes.” I gave him a wink, hoping that visions of red heels danced in his mind.
Will slapped his hand over his heart and mouthed a groan.
Tugging on his arm, Mrs. Forsyth commanded. “William, come on. Your father is waiting.”
For the remainder of the night I saw my new husband sporadically. Will was by my side for the standard reception rituals—first dance, cake cutting, and bouquet/garter toss. But most of his time was spent with his parents or his buddies. Which was fine. It wasn’t as if Will and I were a googly-eyed, joined-at-the-hip brand new couple. A certain amount of comfort and routine sets in after so many years together. The wedding was kind of a formality. I kept busy chatting with friends, family, and people I didn’t know. After all, Will and I had a lifetime to spend with each other.
Some couples claimed that the first year of marriage was the hardest. The honeymoon period ends and the nittygritty of life takes over. Even if you’d been dating for years the shift in mindset to being legally tied to another person, even one you loved, caused extra stress. Not to mention the little idiosyncratic things that once seemed charming and cute become annoying when exposed to them on a daily basis.
Sure, it took me a little time to learn the basics, like how Will wanted his laundry ironed and folded and that he preferred a homecooked dinner every night at precisely 7 p.m. It surprised me at first that I didn’t know these little quirks about him. But I had to admit it was kind of refreshing discovering new things after all these years.
I took pride in making our little starter apartment a warm and cozy home for Will to relax in after a busy day at work. I didn’t mind the trail of clothes he’d strip out of as he walked through our place at the end of the day. Picking them up was a small price to pay for the sight of his naked muscular back, ass, and legs as he headed down the hall to our bedroom. When his dark hair covered the bathroom sink after he shaved, I simply wiped it up and went about my day. And I understood the long hours he spent working, both at the office and at home. He was providing for our family’s future.
Being Mrs. Will Forsyth kept me busy, at least for the first couple of months. Once my routine was set—dusting, vacuuming, laundry, groceries, and dinner made, I still had plenty of time on my hands.
“So, do you like it?” An antsy smile crossed my face.
Plunging his fork into the Swiss chicken, Will said, “This is awesome. Can’t you tell I like it?”
“Well, being that it’s your third helping, I had a pretty good idea but it’s always nice to hear you say it.”
“This is the best thing I’ve had in my mouth all day.” He put his fork down and picked up my hand. His lips skimmed over my knuckles before kissing them. “And later tonight I’ll give you the best thing you’ve had in your mouth all day.” He winked and went back to eating.
“We really need to work more on the sweet talk, hon.”
“You know I’m not a poet,” he mumbled through a mouthful of couscous.
I gave him a weak smile before going back to eating. We ate in silence for several minutes. A couple of weeks before the wedding, Will mentioned how he loved the idea of me being a stay-at-home wife and mother. He was earning more than enough to cover our expenses. His mom never worked outside the home and he wanted our children to have the same experience. Since it seemed so important to him, I agreed. Besides, I had no real aspirations as far as a career.
Once I realized Will would be my future I never gave other options much consideration. I hadn’t mapped out any post-graduation plans other than being Will’s wife. I went to college because that’s what was expected. I chose business as my major because it was general enough to apply to most jobs in case I did get one. When Will decided to continue his education and go for his Master’s in business, I decided to follow along.
It wasn’t that taking care of Will didn’t fulfill me. I enjoyed making sure every night a homemade dinner was on the table waiting when he came home. Watching him devour the food thrilled me and gave me a sense of pride. The dishes started off very simple—meatloaf, spaghetti, chicken and stuffing casserole. I followed the recipes closely, never veering off course. As the year went on I got more comfortable in the kitchen and started to experiment more. I even made up a couple of original dishes. Before I knew it, I discovered not only did I have a talent for cooking but a passion for it as well.
I nervously pushed the green beans around on my plate. “Will, can I talk to you about something?”
“Sure. What’s in that pretty head of yours?” He raised his eyebrows, a grin playing across his mouth. “Better?”
He was making an effort with the sweet talk.
I smiled. “Much better.”
“So, what’s up?”
I inhaled a slow breath, sucking in my nerves. I wasn’t sure where they were coming from. I’d never had a problem before talking to Will about anything. But I’d never really discussed anything that was so important to me before.
“What do you think about me going back to school?”
“We just got out of school.”
“A year and a half ago.”
“You already have a degree,” he said.
“I was thinking about taking a few cooking classes.”
“You already know how to cook. Three helpings.” He pointed to his almost empty plate.
“And I love that you love it. You have no idea what a thrill it is when I see the look of pure pleasure on your face when you’re eating something I cooked for you.”
He tugged on my wrist. “Come sit in my lap and I’ll double thrill you.”
“Will, I’m serious.”
“Veto.” He went back to eating.
“Excuse me?”
“I like having you here when I get home from work.”
“It wouldn’t interfere with that.”
Leaning back in the chair, he blew out a frustrated breath. “Bryson, what about our plans with the house and starting a family?”
Our wedding gift from Will’s parents was a piece of land for us to build our dream home on. We were scheduled to meet with the architect next week. Forsyth Construction would do the build with Will overseeing the project.
“Enrolling in culinary school wouldn’t . . .”
He raised his hand. “Hold up. A minute ago it was a few cooking classes and now its culinary school?”
“I thought I could start out with a class or two and if I like it maybe go for a degree,” I explained sheepishly.
He leaned forward, taking my hand in his. “Am I not doing a good job as provider and husband?”
“You’re a wonderful husband and provider. Me wanting to follow my passion has nothing to do with our marriage.” I ran my thumb over his wrist.
“We agreed you’d stay home.”
“I know, but . . . I’ve never really been driven toward anything, career wise. Cooking and creating dishes gives me a sense of accomplishment and pride. And I’m good at it, you said so yourself.”
“Bry, I’m glad you get a kick out of doing this stuff. I like your cooking, but shit, I’ll eat anything. You know that. Not sure where you got the idea you could make an actual career out of it. It’s not like the Food Network is gonna bang down your door. Plus, it would be pretty embarrassing for my wife to be working as a cook in some greasy d
iner.”
My shoulders drooped as I lowered my head, shrinking into my seat. The only sound in the room was the clanking of Will’s knife and fork on his plate. After a few minutes, his hand on my forearm came into view.
“I just don’t see the point in you taking classes to learn something you’re already good at.” He was trying to apologize for being an insensitive jerk without saying he was sorry. “We’re meeting with the architect next week. Once things get rolling on the house you’ll be too busy with that. Bryson, look at me.”
I bit my lower lip in an attempt to still the quiver and raised my gaze to meet Will’s.
“I’m going to build you the ultimate kitchen. Top of the line appliances, granite countertops, double oven, a wine fridge. Anything you want.”
“It sounds incredible. But . . .”
“But nothing. The plan has always been to build our dream house and start a family within the first two years of being married. I don’t see any reason to screw things up just because you’re a little bored.” Pushing his chair back, Will stood, tossed his napkin on the table, and walked into his home office.
End of discussion.
I stayed at the table for a while and sulked until the sting of his words dulled. I didn’t have much arsenal to argue my point very effectively. Everything Will said was true. A year and a half ago I did agree to all the terms he pointed out. But at the time I didn’t realize I had a passion for something besides Will.
I grabbed our plates and went into the kitchen. As I rinsed the dishes, Will’s words drifted back into my head. Maybe he was right. I’m focusing on the cooking because I’m bored. Once my day got filled with taking care of our family and home, I’d realize how pointless the idea of me going to culinary school really was.
I bent down to load the dishwasher and tried to clear my mind of disappointment. Standing back up I felt the heat of Will’s body behind me. I had been so caught up in my own thoughts that I didn’t hear him come into the small space. His arms snaked their way around my waist.
Nuzzling my neck, he said, “Don’t be mad at me.”
“I’m not mad. Just disappointed.” I sighed.
the Dance Page 3
