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When I began to sing “Hero” by Enrique Iglesias, her eyes widened and shone bright, her lips curving upward. The effect was like a sudden ray of sunshine warming my heart. It wasn’t long before the words of the song began to touch her and she became emotional and her smiling eyes glistened with happy unshed tears.
Apart from the soft, simple score the band played to accompany me there wasn’t a sound in the room as everyone stood in a voyeuristic trance as I sang the song to my bride. A few times she inhaled deeply, like she had forgotten to breathe and she appeared to be mesmerized.
Watching her reactions left me in no doubt she felt every word in a personal way, and when she couldn’t stay still any longer she reached out and touched my cheek with one hand and placed the other to her chest. “Thank you,” she mouthed and swallowed a lump in her throat several times in succession.
I couldn’t have cared less what my bandmates, Strings and Hammer thought of my cheesy personal performance, and I knew I’d probably get shit for putting on such a pussy-whipped public display of affection. But I figured they could all go and fuck themselves, because Billie was my queen, and if I couldn’t treat her as such on her wedding day then when the hell else was I supposed to do this?
Although the romantic love ballad hadn’t been written for my wife, I was certain I’d have written very similar lyrics to mark her life’s journey after learning all that she’d been through, because I felt ferociously protective of her and wanted her to know she was treasured beyond anything else I held dear.
Thankfully the song was almost over by the time a single teardrop ran down her cheek, because when I saw it my voice cracked a little as my own feelings of what we were to one another almost caught up with me.
When the music died my beautiful bride leapt to her feet, threw her arms around me, and pulled my head down for a kiss. Again, the room erupted in a round of applause and cheers as I buried my face in her neck. For a few brief seconds we stood still and quiet as we breathed each other in.
Sometimes a hug was more meaningful than a kiss; more intimate than a kiss, and it had the kind of personal contact you never forgot. If you were lucky you’d remember where you were when you received it and who you shared it with.
In that moment, I knew it may well be the most memorable embrace of my life. With my husbandly duties done to my bride outside of the bedroom, I figured it was time I kicked back and relaxed to conserve my energy because the best part was yet to come.
