by Knight, JJ
He pulls away laughing. “Easy now. Nobody said anything about a wedding.” His expression goes serious and he looks around at the ancient stone walls and flickering candles. “How far in advance did you have to book this place?”
Dylan answers, “It’s all ours for the rest of the week.”
Chet shakes his head. “I have to make a confession. I haven’t met this girl in person yet.”
Dylan and I exchange a look. Now my happiness for Chet is turning to worry. He’s a brilliant, powerful man, but love does strange things to people.
“She’s in Ireland,” Chet says. “I’m going there in the morning.”
“Alone?” I ask.
He looks away and casually says, “There are still a few seats left on the flight.”
Dylan and I exchange another look. I don’t even need to ask him, because I can see his answer in the twinkle in his eyes.
I whisper to Dylan, “This is crazy. We’ve barely seen Rome.” I pick up my glass of champagne and take a sip. “But I have always wanted to visit Ireland.”
Dylan says, “I need to check out this music competition of mine.”
His tuxedo tie is crooked, so I reach out and straighten it. He puts his hand over mine and unfastens the tie, then unbuttons his shirt.
While looking deep into my eyes, Dylan says to Chet, “We’ll come along to Ireland for a day or two. Just a fun detour.”
Chet pulls his phone out and starts making a call. “I’ll book the tickets.” He walks away from us, the phone held to his ear.
I shake my head. “You love keeping me off balance, don’t you?”
He takes my hand and kisses the tops of my fingers. “And you love taking my breath away.” He kisses his way up my arm, then gazes into my eyes. “The girls won’t mind if we ditch them for a couple days, right? We’ll be back in time for the big vineyard tour.”
“It’ll be fine. The next couple days were set aside for our… free time.”
His dark eyebrows raise with interest. A wolfish hunger lights his eyes with fire. “We can have free time anywhere.”
I glance around to see who might overhear us. Everyone is having a great time all around us. Caleb has taken over the DJ booth and is playing his own mega-mix of modern songs mixed with some of the oldies my grandmother grew up listening to.
She’s clapping her hands and having the time of her life, at the center of attention. She seems to be bonding with Dylan’s mother, and the two of them have been side-by-side all day.
Dylan leans in close and kisses my bare shoulder. He lets out a growl, just loud enough for me to hear over the music.
“Jess, we should start our free time now.”
I look deeply into his dark brown eyes. Everything else slips away, and it’s only the two of us.
The two of us.
I don’t know if I should tell him what I’ve been thinking about. I don’t know if now is the time, or if I’m ready.
“Dylan, I…”
He raises his eyebrows, waiting for me to finish.
I want to start making our family.
He keeps waiting for me to speak.
Let’s have a baby.
I bite my lip. Damn it. I can think the words, but I can’t say them out loud. Back when the thief stole my purse in Italy, along with my birth control pills, I started thinking about going off them. Then my sensible side kicked in, and I had my doctor send over the prescription to be filled in Italy.
I’m still on birth control, but every day I take my pill, I pause a little longer bringing it to my lips.
Dylan, let’s have a baby.
I can think it, but not say it.
Maybe I’m not ready to have a baby after all. If I can’t say the words, how can I handle the reality?
He’s still waiting, so I choke out some words. “I need to get out of this dress.” I make a goofy face. “It’s so pretty, and I love it, but you know I’m a tomboy farm girl at heart.”
“I know who I married.”
“I’ll go upstairs and get changed into something simple. Then we can really hit the dance floor.”
Dylan nods. “Caleb is threatening to play the chicken dance.”
“I love the chicken dance.”
He lets out a huge laugh. “Of course you do.”
I jump to my feet. “I won’t keep you waiting.” I gather the beautiful dress in my hands and run out, feeling like Cinderella.
As I turn the corner for the stairs to our room, my shoe hits the corner of an uneven tile. When I straighten up again, one shoe feels funny.
I sit on the steps and check the shoe.
My beloved blue shoes have seen better days, but tonight is definitely the end. The soles of both are worn thin, and now one sole has cracked completely.
I laugh to myself as I take the shoes off. My head feels light from the champagne, and suddenly everything seems funny. I can’t believe I think I’m ready to have a baby.
One of the Italian staff at the castle stops to ask me if I’m okay. I’m sitting on the stone stairs, in my wedding dress, all alone and laughing to myself, with my broken shoes in my hands. I can’t blame her for worrying.
“Yes.” I give her a reassuring smile. “Just catching my breath.”
“Are you waiting for someone?” she asks.
Dylan walks up behind her.
“Not anymore,” I tell her.
“I’ll take care of everything now,” Dylan says. The woman nods and walks away quickly.
“I haven’t even been gone five minutes,” I say. “You miss me already?”
He smiles and takes the broken shoes from my hands. “I know where these belong.”
“In the trash?”
He shakes his head, looking solemn. “In the display case at the restaurant, along with my old guitar. They belong together, to complete the story.”
I get chills all over my body. This is just like Dylan, to notice the poetry in life, to know how to put everything in harmony.
“Good idea.” I grab the railing and get to my feet.
“Oh, no you don’t,” he says, his voice low and gritty. “Don’t you run away from me.”
I wasn’t going to run, but now that he says I can’t…
Giggling, I dash up the stairs ahead of him. The ancient stone steps are cool and rough under my bare feet.
He catches up before we reach the door of our room. He sweeps me up in his arms, just like a prince in a fairy tale.
He holds me tight against his chest. I lace my arms around his neck and kiss his jaw as he opens the door to our room and carries me over the threshold.
The room is like a small apartment, with sumptuous couches, marble tables, and fresh flowers everywhere. Against the wall, under the window, is a king size bed.
Everything is perfect, except for the two housekeepers, making the bed. They’re older ladies, and they don’t speak English.
Dylan starts talking to them, not in English. He does speak French fluently, but his Italian is not great, apparently. The women look even more confused.
Finally, he gestures for them to carry on making the bed, then gives me a frustrated look.
“You’ll have to wait a little longer,” I say, teasing him.
I came up to get changed anyway, so I grab some of my things and go into the washroom. I use a washcloth to remove some of the heavy makeup, so I look like myself again. I slip out of the beautiful gown and hang it on the shower curtain rod.
Dylan is still in the room, waiting patiently in his tuxedo.
I slip out of the tight corset bra I had to wear under the bridal gown and freshen up with a quick dash through the shower. I’m careful to not get my hair wet, because I really love the styling.
He knocks on the door. “Bellissima?”
“One more minute,” I call through the door. I slip on some comfortable cotton underwear and pull on a simple blue dress. It’s not as fancy as my bridal gown, but it’s new, and the lace detailing at the neck will look nic
e in photos.
When I open the bathroom door, Dylan’s standing right there. His eyes go wide. He seems almost as surprised and excited as when he saw me in the gown.
“Let’s get back to the party,” I say.
“It’s still early,” he says.
He has a pair of my sandals in his hands. He passes them to me. “Come with me. I want to show you the gardens.”
I notice he has some blankets tucked under his arm.
My heart starts to race.
I put on my sandals quickly, and practically chase him out of the room and down the hall.
It’s dark outside, and as we move further away from the castle and its surrounding lights, it gets even darker.
Soon, there’s nothing but the moon lighting our way through the beautiful gardens. I can hear the music of our wedding party just faintly. They’re playing another oldie, and I can see everyone in my mind, dancing and having fun in the ballroom.
We come to a clearing, and the view of the valley is so beautiful, I stop right in my tracks. Even in the moonlight, I can see the contours of the hills and vineyards.
I turn to Dylan. “It’s like a postcard.”
We both look up at the moon and stars.
He says, “No way. They couldn’t fit all this on a postcard.”
We both turn around at the same time and look back at the castle. It looks warm and golden against the midnight blue sky.
“Right here is perfect,” Dylan says. “The fireworks are set to begin any minute.” He gazes down at me. “We can go back if you want.”
I take the blankets from his hands. “Not yet. I have something I want to tell you.”
Instead of telling him right away, I start spreading the blankets out on the grass. We both sit down, and then lie back, gazing up at the stars. He reaches for my hand and squeezes it. “Whenever you’re ready,” he says.
A big smile twists up my face and I giggle. “That’s just it. I think I am ready.”
He rolls onto his side to face me. I keep staring up at the moon, afraid that if I look into his eyes, I’ll lose my courage.
“Ready for what?” he asks. As he waits for my answer, he places his hand on my stomach. He slides his hand down, so it’s over my womb, radiating warmth.
He knows exactly what I mean. This is just like Dylan, to know me better than I know myself.
His voice comes out choked with excitement, “Are you…?”
I let out a high-pitched giggle. “No. That bump is just from tasting too many cake samples.”
“But would you like to be?” He rubs his palm in a slow circle on my abdomen. My toes curl inside my sandals and my whole body tenses and relaxes at once.
“Yes,” I whisper.
He keeps moving his palm in a comforting circle, letting the circle grow wider, until his hand slips down between my legs. Hot fingers press against my cotton underwear, rubbing gently.
I cover my face with my hands, embarrassed that I couldn’t say the words, and embarrassed that he can press all my buttons so easily. Sometimes when he goes slowly like this, I feel like a virgin all over again.
He pushes my dress up past my hips, and I wriggle to pull it off over my head. Now I’m in my underwear, in a moonlit garden, in the middle of Italy.
My handsome prince slowly removes my sandals, then my panties and bra. He’s gentle, like an old-fashioned knight, being chivalrous with his virgin princess.
He removes his tuxedo jacket and shirt, and then everything else. We’re completely naked, surrounded by gardens and bathed in moonlight.
I’m still on my back, with my knees up and the bottoms of my feet on the blanket. He bows his head forward and kisses my knee. Then he pushes my knees apart and kisses his way inward, along my thigh.
When he reaches the center, he sighs as he licks me.
My toes curl again, and I grab a fistful of the blanket from either side of me. Soon I’m panting for him, begging for him to take me.
He sits up and gazes down at me tenderly. “I missed you all week,” he said. “It was painful to see you every day, then not have you in my bed.”
“I’m yours now.”
He grins. “I know.”
I loop one leg around his back and try to pull him on top of me, but he won’t budge.
“Hold on,” he says. “I’m waiting for something.” He tilts his head. “Listen.”
I look over at the castle. “The music stopped.” I giggle. “I wonder if they’re looking for us.”
The sky above us explodes in light. The first fireworks bang and pop, the sound thundering through the valley. I let out a surprised cry. I got so distracted, I actually forgot about the fireworks.
More fireworks pulse high overhead. First green ones, then red, bursting out in the shape of hearts.
We watch for a moment, then Dylan turns to me. The fireworks explode behind his head, and he watches my face as I react to them.
He explores my body with his hands, then lowers himself on top of me. We kiss, and I close my eyes. The fireworks are so bright, I can still see them through my eyelids and feel the explosions in my body.
He nudges my legs apart and slides into me. He’s hungry, after being away from me for seven nights.
I’m hungry too, grasping at him with both hands, urging him to go deeper.
He rolls to the side and I roll with him. I’m on top, grinding down on him. Then we roll again and he’s on top, driving himself into me. I start to peak, and we roll again, then again. Now we’re not on the blanket, but on the grass. It’s cool and soft against my back.
He folds my legs up, so they’re pressed against his shoulders. Now I feel all of him inside me, fully. My breathing gets shallow and I reach out, clutching grass with my hands to keep myself from floating away.
He tells me I’m beautiful in the moonlight, his goddess, the mother of his children. I gaze up at his strong face and smile, knowing our baby will have Dylan’s beautiful eyes.
I can’t say how I know this, but I do. Our first will be a boy, and he’ll have wild hair like Dylan’s. We’ll take our time to spoil him and sing songs to him, and then we’ll have a girl. She’ll be even more wild.
The fireworks keep bursting overhead, getting bigger and louder. I can feel them inside my body.
Dylan murmurs for me to open my eyes and look.
Huskily, he says, “We’re painted in colors.”
I look down at our naked bodies. The fireworks flashing overhead turn us orange, then green, then blue.
“Wow,” I say, then, “I love you, Dylan Wolf.”
He slows his movements. “I love you too, Mrs. Jessica Lynn Wolf.”
I give him a coy smile, then flex my muscles around him. “Then show me,” I say.
He responds by growling and sinking into me.
We roll again, grasping each other desperately. The fireworks keep going, reaching their peak. We both moan with pleasure, until we merge in pure light, pure bliss.
After making love, we crawl our way back to the blanket, giggling about how much grass is stuck in my hair.
We put our clothes back on and catch our breath on the blanket.
We lay back. We gaze up at the moon.
He reaches for my hand and squeezes it.
“I’m ready when you are,” he says.
“We should get your album launched first.”
“There’s always something.” He chuckles. “We have a very full life.”
I lift my head up to look over at the castle, glowing brightly from the lights within.
“We should go back and join the party,” I say.
“We will.” He squeezes my hand.
I lay my head back down.
Neither of us makes a move to get up from the blanket.
After a moment, Dylan says, “Five more minutes.”
Time passes. I squeeze his hand. “Five more minutes.”
We lay next to each other, repeating the request to each other, these five more minutes
stretching out the perfection, like hitting replay on your favorite song, over and over, until you’re completely satisfied.
Epilog
ONE YEAR LATER
Today’s our one year wedding anniversary, and I can’t think of a better way to celebrate such a beautiful year than at the wedding of our dear friends Amanda and Caleb.
They got engaged at our wedding in Italy, so the date belongs to all of us, and Dylan and I are happy to share.
For this one, we didn’t fly to Italy, but we did rent the same beautiful Malibu mansion Dylan and I were going to use for our secret wedding. Being in this house again feels like a reunion of sorts.
This morning, we were setting up decorations when Dylan cornered me in the kitchen and teasingly scolded me for making a mess. There were other people around, so we couldn’t do what we wanted to each other, but I’m looking forward to tonight.
I’m really looking forward to tonight, actually. I swear my nipples have been hard ever since he kissed me, and that was hours ago.
I can’t let myself get distracted, though. I have to make sure Amanda’s family and Caleb’s family feel welcome here. I’m running around like I’m the wedding planner, getting extra chairs set up in the atrium where they’ll be holding the ceremony.
People are taking their places, and the room smells like perfume. I smile sweetly and shake hands with the hundredth person whose name I can’t hope to remember.
Riley comes in through the french doors, clutching a shopping bag to her chest. “Jess, I need your help,” she says.
I excuse myself and follow her away from everyone, down a hallway toward the master bedroom.
“Wardrobe malfunction?” I ask.
“Something else.” She gives me a knowing look, then pushes into the master bedroom. A handful of Amanda’s other friends and cousin look up at us in surprise.
“Shoo, everyone,” Riley says. “Official bridesmaids only.”
The others look offended, but they do get up and leave.
We go to the bathroom door, and Riley knocks. “It’s just us.”
Amanda calls through the door, “Is Jess here?”
“Of course I’m here.”
The door opens.
