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 It’s an old, outdated tradition.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.