by Aceves, Gigi
I love my wife . . .
I pull the two strings to control our landing, hoping she’ll remember the instructions I told her. We’re going in butt-landing style and as we glide across the grassy field with my body covering her slim one, excitement pumps through my veins.
As soon as our butts make contact, Cody is there to help Sophia get up while Jake untangles us from all of the contraptions. My sister hands me one of the most important thing my Wildflower will ever wear as Cody, Tami, and Trish distract her. I slowly make my way to her, kneeling on one knee as I nod to my brother-in-law to turn her around to face me.
“Beautiful.” One word leaves my mouth. One truth amongst the many my heart wants to spill out. “Sophia Andrews, you will marry me. There’s no doubt about it. Not in my mind and never in my heart. You’re it for me, baby. The rush you felt just now is the rush I always feel when I’m with you. I love you, Wildflower. My heart loves you, my body craves you, my arms long to hold you, and my mind thinks only of you. My need for you will never cease even after I make you mine. I know it’ll rev to heights I’ve never felt before, and by God I want to reach those heights. Are you ready to jump with me again?”
She looks at me with tears swimming in her eyes. Acceptance and joy etch on her face as her eyes never leave mine, not even to look at the ring. She’s as focused on me as I am on her. Every intake of her breath matches mine and as clarity hits her, the truth of her answer reaches my ears.
“Yes.”
“I want to marry you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” She asks. Her eyes shine with excitement.
“Is tomorrow a problem?” I grin at her.
She smiles shaking her head. “Tomorrow is just fine.”
“Tomorrow it is.”
My arms wrap around her as my lips descend on hers slowly, and no one exists but the two of us. Our hearts become one in this moment with every glide of her tongue against mine. It cements what I already know . . . that our love will stand whatever comes our way. Each swipe, a declaration of one to the other that the forever we seek will and can be achieved.
Love . . . our love will take us there.
My hand finds her finger—the correct one to hold my ring. One of the two rings she’ll ever wear and never take off.
Free—seeing her wear my ring frees me. The strength of my desire for her may be confining to some, but for me it’s freeing—her love frees me.
Falling—I’ve already fallen without the need to stand back up. Falling in love with her allows me to soar . . . to fly, and for that I’ll gladly continue gliding . . . falling.
SOPHIA
“I’M GETTING MARRIED!” I YELL, and Roxy quickly clamps her hand on my mouth.
“Hush little baby, don’t say a word, you’re gonna get a spanking fest . . . and if that spanking fest won’t work, Damien’s gonna nibble on your breast.” Roxy sings to the tune of Hush Little Baby.
“You haven’t lost your touch, Rox.” Trish giggles.
Cody wiggles his brows. “My love is so talented; she could work in a circus!”
Roxy pulls me to her as I wrap my arm around her waist. “Let me tell you about girl power, Soph. My brother may appear tough on the outside, but he’s. . . .”
“Roxy, I’m giving you five seconds to get your hands off my girl and out of her head.”
Roxy stops, turns to glare at my fiancé, and then starts walking. “He thinks that scares me . . . pssh, all bark and no bite.”
“Baby, c’mere please,” Damien calls.
I stop, ready to turn when Roxy yanks on my arm. “You need to be strong, girlfriend. Remember what I told you, no talk, no touch, no eye contact.”
“Hey, my man isn’t a dog!” Jake is quick to come to his defense.
Trish counters, “Uh-huh, so you say.”
Tami starts clapping, power walking to the cars. “Hurry, we have a wedding to plan! Time is of the essence, people!”
As Damien is about to get in the car, Roxy stops him. “Sorry big brother, you can’t be with her until the wedding day.”
Damien’s nostrils flare and his jaw clenches. “I don’t think so, Roxy. I don’t believe in that shit.”
“Well, she believes in that shit!”
“I do?” I question or answer, depending on how you look at it.
Cody pushes Damien off, then says, “Come on, bro, we have a bachelor’s party to plan.”
Roxy sticks her head out the window. “Plan it and see what happens. The po po will be up your ass and don’t expect me to bail you out!”
“Is he serious? I don’t know how I feel about a scantily clad woman dancing on Damien’s lap.” My brows furrow, not liking Cody’s idea at all.
Neil waves his hand. “Don’t believe Cody. He’s so afraid of the minty fresh, he won’t dare cross Roxy.”
“What about my dress?” My heart experiences its first jolt after thinking about what I’m going to wear.
Tami hugs me from behind. “No worries, your mom has that covered. She had your gown made when LT, I mean Damien, talked to your parents a couple of weeks ago. Trish is your official photographer, Roxy’s in-charge of the staging, and I’ll do your hair and make-up, Soph. Meanwhile, Neil, please call the florist and the bakery to verify we’re still on schedule.”
“You’re not upset your mom picked your wedding dress, are you?” Trish questions.
I smile shaking my head. “No. Someone always picks my dresses for me anyway. Anyone can pick my wedding dress anytime, as long as I get to pick who my husband will be; I’m happy with that.”
I’m overwhelmed by their support, and my tears start to well up. “Thank you so much. I don’t know what to say. I don’t mean to impose, and I certainly don’t want you guys to think. . . .”
“Hey, stop that. You’re part of the family now. Damien wants us to do this for you. I’ve never seen my brother act this way before. He loves you so much, Soph. He wants to give you the best, the best of him, and that includes us.” She smiles.
I wipe my tears and lean my head on Roxy’s shoulder. “I’m glad I met him. Now I have three sisters, three brothers, and one winggay!”
“That’s right, sistah!” Neil snaps his fingers.
As we drive back to the hotel, my phone beeps signaling a text.
Damien: I miss you already.
Me: I’m just a car away.
Damien: You didn’t kiss me. You always kiss me.
Me: Blame your sister.
Damien: How much do you love me?
Me: So much—too much. How hard?
Damien: Roxy!
I’m laughing so hard I’m shaking because Roxy grabs my phone and types the ‘how hard’ part. I’m trying to grab it before she types something else.
“Roxy, stop, you’re gonna get me in trouble!”
“Have you guys done the deed?” Roxy asks, seemingly unembarrassed about the question. “And, you’re not going to plead the fifth.”
I’m turning all shades of red while Luke and Travis both shake their heads.
“Umm, nowehaven’tdonethedeed,” I mumble rather quickly.
“Huh? Why are you mumbling?”
“Neil! I don’t want to repeat myself. We haven’t done the. . . . you know what!” I huff while I steal a glance at Luke.
“Hmmm, she’s being tight lipped here. Should we force it out of her?” Neil wiggles his brows at me.
“Neil, we don’t want to scare her away now, do we?” Tami quips.
Travis’ phone rings, then he clears his throat. “Sophia, Damien said and I quote ‘Do not answer Neil or Roxy’s questions’.”
“You know, I should kiss Damien for taking us sky diving . . .” Neil pauses then continues, “ . . . because all those sexy men in black surrounding me makes me want to. . . .” Another pause, then he belts out It’s Raining Men, “ . . . for the first time in his-tor-y it’s gonna start raining men, it’s raining men, hallelujah it’s raining men, amen! Sing it girls!”
“I’m
gonna go out, I’m gonna let myself get, ab-so-lute-ly soaking wet!” Roxy bellows.
“It’s raining men. Hallelujah, it’s rainin’ men, every specimen. . . .” Tami and Trish harmonize.
“Tall, blond, dark and mean, rough and tough, and strong and lean . . .” Neil sings his heart out.
“God bless Mother Nature. . . . .”
We sing so loudly that Travis and Luke just shake their heads looking so uncomfortable. I’m so happy at this moment, I can’t contain myself. I can’t wait for tomorrow, but at the same time I want to savor every second before my wedding. One would think being the President’s daughter I would want a big grand wedding, but I don’t. I want it simple, yet meaningful, just like my future husband.
Simple—Damien has always said he’s simple compared to me because of my dad, how I’m born with a silver spoon in my mouth, but what he doesn’t know is I crave the simple things instead of the complex ones. I’m finally marrying a man whose love for me is perfection in its simplicity. I don’t have to scrutinize it, never have to question it, but always understand the intensity of it.
Complex—I never thought I would ever find someone who could un-complicate my life, but thank God he found me. It may take a while to completely unravel the complexity that is my life, but with him next to me whom shall I fear?
DAMIEN
The drive back to the hotel is nothing but me reliving how I . . . how we got to this point. How I came to the decision of making her my wife. How it’s more for worse than it is better, more for sickness than in health because truly a relationship is tested in hard, rough times. My mind is like a movie of non-stop scenes showcasing my love for her.
“Mr. President . . . Ma’am, I will marry your daughter.” Confidence booms in my voice as the words leave my mouth. “It’s not a question of if; it’s just a matter of when. My love for her is challenged by time, perhaps by our age difference, and maybe by our stature in life, but it’s protected by its strength. I know she’s it for me, and I, her. I’ve never lived in the moment, planning is part of my life . . . has been for a long time, but your daughter taught me how to enjoy and breathe in it. So, I’m seizing the moment, taking it by the horns, and making a life with her. While I do that, I promise to protect her, but more than that I promise to love her—always.”
With his hands twined, eyes directed at me he says, “You’ve only been together a solid six months. Can this six month period of time withstand the trials of a lifetime? Married life isn’t always easy. With her name and your line of work, it’s a recipe for major explosions . . . not of the good kind, either. Are you prepared for that?”
“Yes. We’ve been together for only six months and to some it’s probably not long enough to get to know each other, but she knows me. She knows who I am—the rugged, unapologetic, over protective man she hated more than a year ago, the one she’s learned to love. I also know her name doesn’t precede her, it’s her heart that does. It’s the way she clings to the simplicity of life. It’s that simplicity that she chased all that time, until fate stepped in and used that chase to meet me. Am I prepared? I’m prepared to love her faithfully for the rest of my life. That, I can promise you.”
“She’s only twenty-three, and you’re thirty. That’s seven years. Seven years of life experiences you’ve had and she hasn’t. We’ve seen marriages with the same age gap, maybe less, succumb to the pit falls of that age difference. My fear, if there is any, isn’t the love you have for her, but the patience to understand that she’s just learning to spread her wings while you’ve already learned to fly.”
Looking her dead set in the eyes but with an equal measure of tenderness I give my mother, I answer, “Mrs. Andrews, I’ll teach her and help her spread her wings. I won’t stop her but push her forward to experience things she’s never dreamed of. I’ll give her the confidence to try and the courage to start because she does the same for me. Our love out ranks each other. . . .”
“Meaning?” She questions.
“Meaning, in our relationship there’s not a ‘you and me’. . . . ’you or I’. . . . there’s only an ‘us’—a ‘we’.”
“My wish for my daughter has always been to find someone who’ll love her as much, if not more, than we do. As a mother I want her to be loved more than hated, cared for more than neglected, understood more than dismissed, and I know you can love, care, understand her implicitly, but can you accept the harsh reality of the hard challenges attached to my husband’s job? The reach of my husband’s detractors has the power to destroy that love. I need to know if that love can stand against it.”
“Our love will not only stand against it, it’ll crush it.”
She looks into my eyes straight to my soul looking for holes in the promise my lips just declared, but she won’t find any. Her daughter is it for me, and the only way my promise will be broken is if she breaks it herself, not anyone else.
“Thank you.” A simple answer from a simple woman who has a simple wish for a daughter who lives in a complicated world.
“Damien, stay.” He turns to his wife. “I need a word alone with Damien, honey. It’ll only be a couple of minutes.” He kisses her and walks her to their room.
Minutes later, he comes out holding an old watch. He gently places it on the table separating us, and a thoughtful look masks his face.
“My wife’s father gave me this when I asked for her hand in marriage. I asked him why a watch, because for the life of me I couldn’t understand what its significance was. He said ‘time could be your worst enemy or could be your greatest friend, much like love’. Love stops when hate, misunderstanding, and jealousy fester, but time ends when that love ends. Take care of this watch as you would take care of her heart. Always look at it, always check on it, always wear it, keep it clean, don’t ever break it, check that it stays true to the time. . . . always hold it. I’ve done that, Damien. I always look at my wife with love in my eyes. I always check and ask if what I’m doing hurts her. I always wear my heart on my sleeve when I’m around her. I always keep our love clean and pure. I’ve never hurt her, maybe made her mad, but never hurt her heart. I always check if I’m staying true to the promise I gave the Lord when I promised my wife forever. I hold her close to me, always.” He takes hold of the watch and hands it to me with confidence and acceptance in his eyes and a deep conviction and honor in mine.
I accept it with pride. “I’ll do everything you’ve asked. I’ll love your daughter more than I should . . . for all eternity if I could. I’ll give her my best—only the very best of me and everyone around me. I love her deeply, Sir, with a love that spans time. I’ll love and protect her more than you’ve ever loved her. It’s not a disregard to you, Sir, not at all. I need you to know that my love for her surpasses yours so you’ll understand the depths of it.”
“I do. But, can you handle the stress of the job? It only takes one incident, one moment. You’ll be in. . . .”
“I know I’ll be in the kill zone. Your safety above mine.”
He stands in front of me. “I fear for my daughter. I wonder if she truly understands the solemnity of that oath and the loss attached to it.”
“She understands because she understands me.”
He blows out a breath slowly, not out of resignation, but acceptance. “Well, then welcome to the family, Son.”
“Hey.” Cody elbows me. “You’ve been awfully quiet. What’s up?”
“Just remembering how I got here, and thanking God for leading me to her.”
Jake clasps my shoulder from behind. “I told you you’d find your one. It might have taken you a year to get her, but you did. Just as how I waited for Trish.”
“Enjoy the moment, LT. Be honest with her. Tell her your fears, you might be surprised at the level of understanding she gives you. Often times we have this mind set of protecting them from pain, but in reality we’re setting them up for it. So be honest.”
Brian has a funny way of reading my mind, or our minds for that matter. “T
hat’s my only regret. In this line of work, full and complete disclosure doesn’t have a place. Or maybe it’s not even honesty, it’s being transparent. But isn’t that honesty?”
“She knows there are certain things you can’t tell her. I think you don’t have anything to worry about on that end. What I’m talking about is recognizing when to tell her the truth.”
“I know, B. I’ll tell her everything when the time comes.”
“What is it you’re keeping from her? Is it X-rated?” Cody jokes, obviously trying to kill the tension in the air.
“No. . . . it’s classified.”
This conversation reminds me of something she asked me a few weeks ago.
I’m kissing her lips, kneading her breast while controlling this deep need in me to take her and make her mine. With every stroke of my tongue the intensity deepen. For every time the tips of my fingers graze her skin, her nipples, or her wet core, my need ramps up to uncontrollable levels. My hand leaves her breast only to find the other, my lips travel down her jaw leaving open kisses on her neck. The place I always find to seek solace . . . to calm the rage that’s building inside me to have her. Slowly. . . . gently, I lower my lips to suck on her breast while my hand imitates my lips, descending to that place I know will send her to heaven.
I feel her wetness between my fingers . . . I smell her desire. As she’s writhing in pure ecstasy under me, under my mouth and hand, I know she’s close—close to having that feeling of pure physical release. In my heart, I’m dying to share it with her, to be inside her. I squelch that thought because my passion to share it with her when we’re married is stronger than the primal, physical need to reach the apex of sexual satisfaction now.
“Oh. . . .” She lets out a sensual gasp echoing the tremors her body is feeling.
As I hold her close to me with her completely sated body against mine, her words surprise and worry me.
“Will there ever be something you’ll keep from me?”
A meaningless question to some, but to me who holds a lot of secrets, it means more than anyone could ever understand.
