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“Yes, sir,” he says, and he takes off. We stop in front of a quaint little brick building with the name Chicago Joe’s perched on top.
Chicago Joe’s for our wedding feast. Sounds magical.
We each order tequila as soon as we sit, and my wife orders spaghetti and meatballs.
Neither of us stops to think that ordering a meal with red sauce when we’re wearing someone else’s clothes is a bad idea.
Our server points that one out. “You sure you want spaghetti in that dress?”
“Oh, right,” Grace says. “Yeah, don’t want all that pasta making the dress too tight.”
“No…I meant the sauce.”
She giggles. “Oh! Right. Okay…how about just a Caesar salad then?”
The server nods, and I order the lasagna since my tux—or Grayson’s tux—is black.
The food is delicious, though it does nothing to quell the buzzing in my head. Probably because I’m adding more tequila on top of the tequila.
It’s my first meal as a husband.
I’m married now.
Reality hasn’t hit me yet. I don’t know whether it’ll hit me at all—at least not until morning, when the buzzing is replaced by a headache.
We laugh all through dinner as we reminisce about the wedding that literally happened twenty minutes ago. Patrons of the restaurant congratulate us constantly, and someone at some point recognizes me. I sign autographs, and Grace does, too. She signs Grace Nash.
Grace Nash.
That’s my wife.
Holy shit.
We somehow make it back to the hotel, but don’t ask me how, and we arrive back in my room. Again, don’t ask me how. I’m drunk and horny, and the loopiness of the Benadryl has started to dissipate, though the tequila is keeping my buzz fresh.
And now that the loopiness has subsided…I want to fuck my wife.
It’s been a long time since I’ve had sex.
Too long.
Maybe it’s the tequila talking, but it’s been talking all night, and it’s been doing a damn fine job making decisions for me.
“I should hang this dress back up,” she says softly.
“Let me help you out of it.”
She turns around, and I tug on the zipper, every centimeter exposing more of the smooth skin of her back.
I have the urge to taste it, and I do. I bend down and drag my lips along the path of the zipper, and she shivers.
The dress falls in a pool around her feet, and she spins around. She’s not wearing a bra, just a pair of lacy white panties, and her breasts are exposed to me.
My dick is immediately hard.
Holy hell, this woman is gorgeous. I don’t know how I never really acknowledged that before.
And, for the next year…she’s my wife.
