Janie

“You look beautiful,” Toia tells me in the bridal ready-room. It’s a massive bathroom that could easily double as a day spa, and Toia is busy making a few last-minute alterations to accommodate my belly. I never imagined myself pregnant when I wore my wedding dress, but looking at myself in the mirror I have to admit — Toia knows her shit.

She has saved me. I probably could have hired a wedding planner, but no one who was excited as Toia to help me out. The woman lives and breathes this world and I feel like a fish in a slowly heating pot of virgin coconut oil.

Everyone is here, mostly. Even Jake’s mother came in from out of town. She came to brunch with me, and to much amazement, Toia when we all went to get our hair and nails done. They say that boys look for women who remind them of their mothers. I’m inclined to agree. That lady is the definition of Type A.

All of it is, so far, going off without a hitch. So why am I nervous, and stressed, and even a little sad?

“Thank you,” I whisper. It’s hard to breathe. Nothing to do with the fit of the dress or the new and growing weight I’m carrying — which, if I may blow my own horn, I am carrying off fabulously well. There was really only one thing I wanted to happen on this day, and now that the countdown has begun it doesn’t look like it’s going to.

Chester peeks in through the bathroom door. “Janie I... holy shit, girl, you are drop-dead gorgeous in that dress. Um…” he blinks, and then remembers what he’s here for, “there’s this man that wants to see you…”

My heart stops for a moment. Chester has the door opened just enough that I can see a face behind and above him.

“Yeah,” Chester says when he sees my open mouth and wide eyes. “Hey, Toia! Let’s go sneak a cocktail off the bar.”

Toia holds up a finger, and pulls a pin from between her lips. “Almost,” she says. “Everyone… just… hold… there.” She stands back to look me over, and bids me turn one way and then the other. Finally, she smiles, and mutters something in a foreign language. Maybe Russian. She speaks three other languages, so who knows? “Beautiful,” she says quietly.

“I agree,” my father says as Chester lets him into the room.

“You made it.” The words catch in my throat. Chester and Toia leave us alone. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

“Your, ah… father-in-law managed to get me here.”

“Reginald?” I want to laugh, and I almost do. “Wow.”

For a long moment, we just stare at one another. I’m six years old again, just for a few heartbeats.

He looks me over, and his eyes settle on my belly. “So, it’s a girl?”

I had been waiting to tell him. Someone must have gotten to him first. Probably Chester. He can’t keep his mouth shut about anything. “It’s a girl.”

“I don’t want mess up your dress, so maybe — ”

I’m off the little podium Toia had me standing on, my arms around my father, before he can finish the sentence. The smell of him fills my nose and memories cascade through my head. Sitting on his lap. Getting into his car after school. Burying a goldfish and crying into his shirt when the deed is done.

“I missed you so much.” The tears are going to mess up my makeup, but I don’t care. Toia’s some kind of makeup sorceress; she can fix it.

“I missed you, too, baby girl,” Dad says, holding me tight.

Eventually, he lets me go, and I let him go.

“I met Jake,” he says. “His, ah… driver picked me up from the airport. Seems like he’s head over heels about you. How are you feeling about all this?”

Nervous laughter takes me over. “Yeah. How am I feeling? That’s a good question. I have no idea, honestly.”

He chuckles with me, and nods slowly. “That’s about right.”

“Did you bring me back any wisdom from France?” I ask him hopefully. About now, I’d take a fortune cookie.

“Ah… well, in France they say that ‘love is the dawn of marriage, and marriage is the sunset of love.’” He smiles ruefully. “Does that help?”

“Are all French proverbs nihilistic?” I ask him.

Dad laughs, and shrugs. “Pretty much.”

“Then how about your own advice?”

He’s thoughtful for a moment. “You’ll have to try. Every day. No matter what comes up, you can never stop trying. Because if you do…” he breathes, and blinks rapidly before clearing his throat. “It takes work. Between any two people. But I think you’re probably up to the task.”

It’s good enough. Work is something I understand. Better than another bit of gloomy French “wisdom.” My nerves actually do settle down just a bit.

There’s a knock at the door. “Almost time, babe,” Chester says. “You ready?”

“Almost,” I call back. “Um… Dad, since you’re here, do you think I could ask you to do me a favor?”

“Sure, Janie,” he says. “Anything.”

Ten minutes later, the music starts. The doors open. All eyes are on me, and I can see Jake at the altar, his mouth falling open.

I hook my arm in my father’s elbow. It’s an old, outdated tradition. Total bullshit. Like he’s giving me away? You don’t give away a daughter, you give away cattle.

And yet, there’s a flutter in my stomach as we step out into the aisle together and he walks in step with me and damn it, Toia just fixed my makeup. She used the waterproof stuff, at least. It’ll last.

The ceremony is short and sweet. We’re both eager for Barbados, where we will live in bliss for two beautiful weeks after this affair is over and done with. But before that, we both have a few things to say.

“Janie Hall,” Jake breathes, just as nervous as I am, “I stand by what I said two months ago. I don’t deserve you. But I promise that I will always work, hard, to be the best man that I can possibly be. I will love you and keep you in my heart — you and our daughter — first and foremost above all other things and all other people. You have made me a better man, and I will spend the rest of my life repaying that debt.”

I can barely speak, and it takes me a moment to catch my breath.

You can do this, Janie Hall.

“Jacob Ferry,” I begin, my hands shaking in his. “I promise you that I will be… difficult, at the best of times.” The assembled guests chuckle at that, and I wait for it to pass. Jake is smiling. “I’m used to charting my own course in life, alone. I thought that I had it all planned out, too. And then… well, things got a little derailed. I know that we will have more ups and downs. I know that we will have to work hard. But I promise you that I will never stop working, never stop trying. I love you, Jake Ferry. And I will love only you, from this day until my last.”

There isn’t a dry eye in the place. I feel my attention being pulled back to the audience and my mother is looking at me, with something akin to real pride in her eyes. She’s not only proud of me, but there’s something else there. Is she proud of herself? Relieved? I just want my mother to be all right. She’s flanked by my twin brothers, and holding one of their hands each. It’s only then that I realize that her plus one is a minus one: George isn’t here. Could that mean he’s gone?

“You may kiss the bride,” the officiant says, and I’m thrown back into the moment and subsumed in Jake’s eyes, as he leans in to me and his lips meet mine for one slow, electric moment. It’s not a deep kiss, it’s very chaste compared to our kisses in the past, but the feeling behind it is stronger and more loving than ever. It says so many things: I’m going to do my best for you. I’m not changing for you, but I am healing for you. Your love is bringing me back to the person that I was before life took me and changed me.

When we walk back down the aisle hand in hand, the congregation standing, their hearts joining us, I’m as excited as I’ve ever been. But I want to be sure my mother is all right. Sure, she had pride in her eyes, but the pride was fragile. New. Why is George gone? Is he gone for good? Or just sitting out the wedding?

* * *

As we lay in bed together for the first time as husband and wife, Jake looks at me, and again it seems like his eyes open up, that layers of pain have been washed away somehow. His body melts into mine, and one strong arm holds me while the other traces circles on my eager skin. He kisses me, tenderly, but with fire this time, and it threatens to consume me. I feel it building inside me too and soon we are sitting up, hands clinging, grasping, touching. Our mouths are voracious, tasting, licking, kissing whatever part we can reach.

As he kisses my neck, and my shoulder, it feels as if my neck and shoulder are kissing him, just as my mouth is. His lips trail down to my breasts and he takes each hard nipple in between his teeth and runs his tongue over them, and the fire burns hotter. One hand snakes its way between my legs to my slit, and easily slides in between my slippery folds. I groan as he moves his fingers inside me as the heel of his hand presses against my throbbing clit. I reach for him as well, eager to wrap my fingers around that rigid, thick, heavy cock. The warmth and softness of the stretched skin is matched only by the hardness of him, and I gratefully squeeze the proof of his desire as he moans deeply.

“Janie,” he grunts. “Fuck me now. I have to be inside you.”

“Yes,” I whisper, and climb on top of him. I lower myself onto his hard shaft, each inch stretching and filling me until I’m whole with him. “I love you,” I breathe as he bucks softly inside me. Our eyes meet and he quickens his pace until we’re both sweating, contorted, crying out. When he’s ready to come, he lifts me with his hands and slides me down his cock slowly and tantalizingly until he shoots inside, and the warm wetness fills me over and over and I come around his cock.

It’s as close as I’ve felt to another human being.

”I love you, Janie, you know that?” His eyes search mine, intent and grave. “Never forget that. And I’m going to do everything I can to earn your love for keeps.”

“You have it,” I say, and slide off him to occupy the space beside him on the bed. “You’re my husband now.”

His eyes close and he touches my skin softly, running his hand along my arm and side. My skin gathers to his touch, goosebumps rising as he strokes me.

As we lay there in the afterglow I wonder about my mother again.

“I wonder where George was?” I say. “I didn’t want to ask mom at the wedding.”

“Yeah he didn’t make it, did he?” He turns his head to look at me.

“You didn’t do anything, did you?” I ask suddenly.

He laughs. “No. But it’s still a good thing, right? In fact, maybe we should offer your mother one of the guest houses so she’s not so dependent on George in the first place.”

My heart leaps. “Do you mean it?”

“Of course!” he says. “I want you to be happy, and when you worry about her, you’re not. If we have her close, with a good security system — ”

“And a support system,” I interrupt.

“Yes, and a support system,” he says, “she’ll know that she’s not at the mercy of a guy like George. And she can get all the care she needs.”

I snuggle close to him. “I knew deep down you were the man for me,” I say. I breathe in his scent, filling my nose with him, and let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for making my life complete,” he answers softly, and I feel ready to take on the world.