Today was the first full day of summer for Ana, and I couldn’t wait to open the door, walking in with wine in my hand to celebrate the night. I’d already made a reservation at our favorite restaurant for two hours from now. That should give us enough time to start the summer break off right.

She’d need it after a day full of decisions. We talked this morning before I’d left for work about how she was diving into wedding planning full force now that she had more time. I’d told her that if she needed any help, to let me know, and I’d be happy to step in. She’d rolled her eyes with a small laugh telling me it wasn’t as simple as passing the baton.

The lock clicked, and I pushed the door open with a smile on my face but was met with an empty great room.

“Honey, I’m home,” I called out in my best Ricky Ricardo voice.

Still nothing. I set my stuff on the bar and walked toward the bedroom. Maybe my girl was waiting for me. Excitement pumped through my body, making my dick twitch to attention.

It quickly deflated when I heard soft sniffles coming from our open bedroom door. I picked up my pace, my heart beating hard for a whole other reason, and pushed open the door.

Ana lay on the bed, curled up in a ball, her blonde hair fanned out on the pillow, her shoulders shaking.

“Ana, baby.” I rushed to her side, ready to destroy whatever had put her there. Stroking my hand over her hair, I softened my voice, losing any panic I felt over her pain. “Ana, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

She sniffled a few more times and refused to look at me. “Gone. It’s all gone.”

“What’s all gone, baby?”

Her hands were balled into tight fists by her face. “Our cake. Our beautiful, delicious wedding cake that I spent so much time deciding on. It’s all fucking gone.”

My eyes flicked out around the room as though I would find the answers to what she was saying. I hated to ask because she seemed so agitated, but I just didn’t understand.

“What do you mean,” I asked as softly as I could.

“I went to go call the bakery to let them know we found out the weight of the cake topper, so they knew what to plan for. And no one picked up. I called all morning, Kevin, and no one picked up.” Each word began to come harder and faster as she explained. “So, I figured, what the hell. I have time. I’ll go down there and meet with them.” Her shoulders shook as more tears came. “The place was fucking empty. Cleaned out. Nothing. Gone. For lease. I called the number leasing the place, and they said the last owner packed up and left without notice about two weeks ago.”

My shoulders dropped, and the breath left my body as I remembered the hefty final payment we’d paid three weeks ago for our cake. Oh, fuck, I mouthed, unwilling to say it loud enough to upset her even more. My mind scrambled trying to find a solution, but before I could, she kept going.

“So, I called a law firm to see if there is anything I could do. But they said, that unless we can find them, there isn’t much they can do. Nothing. Kevin, that’s so much money.”

I didn't want her worrying about the money or the cake. I decided to try and take this from her. I knew the cake she wanted and designed. I'd stood by and listened as she showed me options. "Don't worry about the money, babe. It's okay. And we can just find another place to get a cake. No big deal."

She shot out of bed, almost knocking me off the edge, and glared at me with incredulous eyes.

“No. Big. Deal?” she asked slowly.

Nervous about the change, I decided to stick with my plan. Usually, Ana appreciated when I took things off her plate. Sure, it was little things like what to wear and what’s for dinner, but I could do this too.

“I’ll take care of it. I’ll find another bakery and tell them what you picked out with the other baker. Strawberry and vanilla, right? Buttercream frosting and the white flowers?” I listed off as many details I remembered, letting her know I’d listened and knew what to do.

“Seriously, Kevin?” Her eyes narrowed, and her low, angry tone froze my body. I let it freeze my mouth too. There was no good answer to that one.

“I spent a month picking out that cake. It’s not a simple strawberry cake. It’s not just white flowers. Each cake is different. I spent a month alone vetting reviews and credentials. Another month tasting different cakes. It’s not as simple as you swooping in and just saying strawberry.”

“I didn’t mean it was.” I tried to backtrack and diffuse the anger I’d sparked. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s so-so much more than that. So mu-much more time and e-energy.” Her shoulders collapsed, and her hands cradled her face as she broke down again. “I had it picked out a month ago and that was cutting it close. God, Kevin, what if we don’t have a cake? What if our two-hundred and fifty guests show up and there’s no cake?”

My eyes bugged out. Two-hundred and fifty? When the hell did that number get so high? I opened my mouth to ask but thought better of it. Instead, I pulled her close.

She pressed her forehead to my chest, her tears soaking my white shirt, and her slim hands clinging to the lapels of my jacket. I may not have been able to pick out a cake for her, but I could at least be there when she broke down. I could be there when she needed me to hold her together.

“Shh, shh.” I pressed kisses to the crown of her head and whispered softly that it was okay and that I was there for her however she needed me.

My mind flicked to the bottle of wine and the candles I’d planned on dripping all over her body.

And I ignored them.

Gently, I laid her down, loving the way she held on tight, afraid I was going to leave her.

“I’m not going anywhere, Anabelle. I’m going to take my jacket off and curl up next to you.”

She nodded, and I stripped my jacket, shirt, and shoes before lying beside her. Knowing we wouldn’t be going out tonight, I grabbed my phone and searched for the number to the closest Italian restaurant, knowing she’d want comfort food.

“I’m going to call Angelo’s and have them deliver. What do you want?”

“You decide, please.”

I smiled, pride filling my body. Even if she didn’t’ trust me to pick out a cake, she still needed me to take care of her.

* * *

It had taken us two weeks to have sex after that. Each night I came home hopeful, but Ana collapsed into a stressful ball. She spent most nights buried in a wedding magazine with a laptop on her crossed legs, a pad of paper next to her and a pen in her mouth as she scrunched her eyebrows at all the options.

My cock ached as I thought about throwing that pen aside and putting her mouth to better use. But many nights, she’d start falling asleep before she’d even cleared the mess surrounding her.

I did whatever I could to help. While I took her cues about sex, I was still able to assert my dominance. Each morning I laid out clothes for her. Some days without panties just because I could. I’d order her dinner when we went out, and while she rambled endlessly about options for the wedding, I would wash her back and her hair in the shower.

It might not have been sex, but at least it was an intimacy unique to our relationship.

At least until a couple of nights ago, when she came out of our home office after scheduling a photographer and pounced on me. I’d been so shocked, that she’d managed to get my pants undone before I realized what was happening. I’d tossed her to the floor and tortured her with my mouth as I licked and sucked for almost an hour before I let her come.

Fuck, she’d tasted extra sweet that night.

And we'd been doing fine since. We didn't talk about her pulling back because I knew she was stressed and handling it the best she could. And to help out, I'd followed her lead and let her decide our intimacy.

While Ana was on the phone with Shayla, her dad’s wife, talking about the seating chart for the wedding, I hopped into the shower and thought about the possibilities for the night. The weather was warm and clear, and I couldn’t wait to spend time with my fiancée.

I walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around my waist, when Ana came storming in, flinging the door open so hard, it slammed against the stopper.

“You will not fucking believe my father.”

“What happened?”

She began pacing. “I had just finished the seating chart after another phone call with Shayla. God love that woman for helping me, but that many phone calls with someone who loves Jesus that much is exhausting. I’m pretty sure God doesn’t care where I seat our guests.”

“Valid point,” I said, chuckling, but she didn’t even hear me. She kept pacing, her hands waving as she talked.

"So, we're done. Finally. And not ten minutes later my dad messages me, asking me to move him because of Diane, my mom's best friend, is still mad at him over their divorce and it would make him uncomfortable,” Ana said, using air quotes, “to be seated next to someone who hated him so much. And that he wouldn’t want to be uncomfortable,” more air quotes, “at his daughter’s wedding.”

“Then don’t change it.” It seemed almost too easy a fix to be upset about.

“Then he says it would probably make Shayla uncomfortable too, and he would hate that after all the help she has given me.”

“Ana.” I raised my voice to get her attention. “You don’t have to change it.”

“How the hell am I supposed to make two-hundred and fifty people happy? Huh?” she shouted, her arms thrown wide.

Stressed and angry, she was off on another tangent. I knew how to calm her down and get rid of her anger. I’d smother it with pleasure.

“Ana, come here.”

She walked toward me. “I just can’t believe he had the gall to ask me that. Like he’s the most important person.”

I gripped her arms and pulled her into me, grinding my growing erection to her core as I leaned down to bite her neck.

“God, he makes me so damn mad,” she continued even though I was doing my best.

Obviously, I was being too subtle. I leaned down further and bit her nipple through her thin top.

“Ow!” she jerked back and stared at me with furrowed brows. “Kevin, that hurt, and I’m not in the mood for you to bite on me.”

She turned before she could see my eyebrows shoot up to my hairline. I didn’t think Ana had ever pulled away from me quite as harshly as she just had. I took a deep breath, pushing back the pinch of hurt, and did what I had done with the cake debacle; followed her lead.

Her shoulders lifted and fell with a heavy sigh and her hands dug into her hair. "Can we. . . can we just veg out on the couch and watch some TV? I just need a night to decompress."

Follow her lead. Follow her lead.

“Yeah, babe. Whatever you want.”