The rest of the week is spent sightseeing and in bed. We can’t get enough of each other, which is the way it's always been with us. Even if she had gotten married to Mark, we would eventually have come back to each other. I know. I've broken up with so many girlfriends because of her. Sex was fun before Rigs and I had sex, but when she told me she was ready and she wanted it to be me, I was hesitant at first. She explained to me that it would either be me or Robert Jones. I jumped at the chance and haven't looked back. I haven't slept with any other woman since her. I know that she hasn't slept with any other guys, because she told me.

I feel her fingers crawl down my stomach and grab hold of me. The soft touch of her hand stroking me causes me to instantly harden. I lay my head back and close my eyes, enjoying the sensations she's evoking in me. Her lips languidly follow the same path as her fingers as she kisses down my abs to my cock.

Her lips slowly drag up the length of my cock until she reaches the head. I feel the heat and wetness of her tongue when she licks the slit, immediately forcing a deep moan from me. She kisses the tip once before slowly drawing me into her mouth. I lift my head just enough to be able to watch as my cock disappears deep into her mouth and down her throat. She stops when her mouth reaches the base and her nose brushes against my skin. She holds it there for a second, then swallows. The pressure of her throat squeezing my cock means I'm fighting my body, hoping I don’t blow too soon.

She moves back up, drawing me out of her mouth, and then does it again. I throw my head back.

“Yesss, that’s it.”

I start stroking her hair to keep from grabbing her head. Then she starts moving up and down on me in earnest, her mouth suctioning me so tightly I know I won't last much longer. I grab the side of her face to slow her down. She slows down just long enough for me to get a little control, then immediately starts up the same torturous rhythm again.

I lose the last of my control, grab the sides of her head, and start fucking her face, pushing myself deeper and deeper into her mouth. I feel the tingles start in the base of my spine, and my cock begins to swell getting ready to blow. I tap her ear to let her know that I'm about to come, and she takes me all the way down her throat and swallows, which takes me over the edge. I pump hot spurts of cum into her mouth and down her throat. She swallows every drop, draining me of my seed. I lay my head back, exhausted and spent, pulling her up with me.

We walk into the house and put down our bags.

"I'm glad we have one more day before we go back to work. We can relax and have our food delivered to us and watch television all day." Rigs plops down on her couch.

"Let's go get a massage tomorrow, and you can get a mani-pedi. I'll let someone rub my feet while I watch them paint yours. Then we can go out and have a nice dinner and come back and relax for the rest of the evening," I suggest. I know if we’re at the house, we won't get any rest.

She agrees, and I take our luggage upstairs. She follows me, and we unpack while deciding what to eat for dinner. She sorts our clothes and puts the first load in the washing machine while I find a place for our wedding attire in the back of her closet, then we go to our favorite out-of-the-way bistro.

We order, and I play with my wedding band. It just feels so natural, like it’s right where it's supposed to be.

"I have to call my mom tonight and tell her I'm back." She takes a sip of her drink.

"What are you going to tell her?" I ask.

"The truth, I guess. What else is there to tell her?" She sounds a little hesitant.

"What's wrong?

"I don't know what to tell her. That we got married and will get divorced in six months? How does that sound? It just comes off too...blasé? I don't want to sound like that about this." She lifts her hands, her wedding rings sparkling in the light.

I grab her left hand, stroking her palm with my thumb and playing with her rings. "Don't tell her anything until we have everything completely straightened out ourselves. Just give it a couple of days. Okay?"

She nods. "Okay."

Our dinner and drinks are delivered, and we enjoy them while making small talk with each other.

"Have you heard from either of your parents yet?"

"Not at all. I give up. When they’re ready to talk, they'll call me." I take a bite of my dessert.

"I wonder why they were avoiding us and why no one knew who your mother was. That was weird." She takes a sip of her drink.

I nod. "I really want to know what they were up to being there. Was it a coincidence? It just doesn't seem like it."

"I want to see what they brought me back from France," Rigs says excitedly. I love it when she's excited. She has this sparkle in her amazing hazel eyes. The green in them comes out, and it's so sexy—among other things. I can't wait until we see my parents, just for her sake.

After dinner, we go back home and I help her put the laundry in the dryer and the new load in the washing machine. We turn on a movie and spend the rest of the evening relaxing and finishing the laundry. After the laundry is finally finished, we go to bed and don’t go to sleep.

***Rigby

We spend a leisurely Sunday morning in bed. Zach runs out to get us some donuts and coffee along with a Sunday paper, and we nibble on the donuts while talking about the articles that interest us.

We finally get out of bed and get dressed. Then I make the dreaded call to my mom. She picks up on the first ring.

"I've been waiting for you to call. How was the trip?"

"It was fun. We did some sightseeing and got a lot of rest. We didn't get in until late last night. We had dinner and then went to bed. How's Rafe doing?"

"He's doing better. Not as shaky as he was. He went to the doctor for a follow-up on Friday and was told that he’s healing right on schedule."

"I'm happy. What's going on with the guy who hit him?" I ask.

"He was bailed out of jail, but they set a court date for next month," she tells me.

"Let me know and I'll be there. That guy needs to spend time in jail for what he did."

"I agree. We did get a lawyer, and he said that he'll make sure the guy goes to jail."

I hear some tapping in the background. "What are you doing, Mom?"

"I'm writing a thank you note for your gift to that biddy Donna across the street. She told Macy, who lives three doors down, that we should still be writing thank you notes even though you didn't get married. I'm just doing it to keep myself from having to punch her in the face for talking shit."

"Mom, ignore her. She was the first person to pick up her gift when we got to the venue. Then I saw her wrapping food in napkins and putting it in her purse all evening before she left. She needs to send us a thank you card." I roll my eyes.

My mom laughs. "She probably just mad that your wedding was classier and nicer than her daughter's wedding."

"I'm not going to talk about anyone's wedding, especially since I didn't actually have one," I say.

"I will. They served chicken at that wedding, and there was no white meat. It was all legs and thighs. That mac ’n’ cheese was runny, and the green beans didn't have any seasoning. It was a tacky wedding." I hear her laughter come over the line.

A small grin hits my face. “Mom!”

“So? I’m mad at her right now,” she says.

“I’m getting off the phone now. Zach is taking me to get a massage and a mani-pedi. Tell Dad I said hi and I love you both.” I blow a kiss into the phone.

“Love you too, baby. Talk to you later.” She disconnects on her end.

I put my phone down and put my shoes on before walking downstairs.

“How did the talk go?” Zach asks.

“It went well. She wants to punch Donna in the face again.” I press the garage door opener and we get into the car.

He chuckles. “When does she not want to punch Donna? What did she do this time?”

“She made a comment about a thank you card for my wedding.”

“You know, even though you ended up not having a wedding, it was still better than her daughter’s. I mean, what if I wanted white meat? It wasn’t there. At all.” He’s shaking his head in wonder.

“I did get a wedding in the end,” I mumble.

“That you did.”