“Shut up, Ryan,” she grumbled.
“Ah, come on, Jolene, be nice.”
“Don’t call me that!” she hissed, her voice sharp and cutting, as she turned her body to the side, twisting awkwardly in the cramped space of the truck's front seat.
When I got into the city, I planned to trade the truck in for an SUV. Jo didn’t look very comfortable climbing into the truck.
Silence enveloped the cab, making it feel heavy and awkward. In hindsight, my attempt to break it probably wasn’t the best choice. “Your hair does have a hint of red.”
“It does not! And no one is allowed to call me that. Why did I even tell you?!” Jo adjusted her body so she was facing me.
She was furious, and I realised maybe I had taken the joke too far. “You hate the name that much?”
“Yes, when I was eighteen, I went to city hall and legally had it changed to Jo. It took forever to live down the nameJolene, and having people sing that stupid song when I entered the room.”
“Kids can be cruel.”
“That’s just it; it was mostly grown folks.”
The last thing I wanted was for her to be in a sour mood before we got married. I tried to change the subject to put her in a better mood. “Have you thought about baby names?”
“Not really. I figured I’d start once we find out the sex of the baby.”
“It’s going to be a girl.” I couldn’t explain how I knew; it was an unshakable certainty, a gut feeling that had been with me for a while. I had mentioned it to her before, but she dismissed it, not taking my intuition seriously.
“You don’t know that. Besides, we’ll find out in a couple of weeks.”
The time at the registry went faster than I thought it would. It only took all of thirty minutes to receive our marriage license. Then we located an authorised officiant who agreed to perform the ceremony in the city park. They weren’t available until one o’clock.
I tried to convince her we should have lunch before the ceremony, but she hesitated, her voice trembling slightly. “I couldn’t possibly eat before…” she said, her words trailing off as she glanced away. “…you know, we exchange vows. I promise I’ll eat after.” Her eyes held a mix of nervousness and anticipation, as if the weight of the moment was already settling in.
The only reason I let it go was because I knew she had had a full breakfast. I made it myself and insisted she eat before we headed off.
Jo was pensive as we waited in a café across the street from the park. I left her alone with her thoughts. Her face was fuller and more radiant, a testament to the life growing inside her, and each change only made her more beautiful.
I marvelled at the transformation, savouring every new curve and glow, and eagerly awaited the future changes that awaited us. It had been a challenge keeping my hands to myself over the last few weeks when all I wanted to do was explore each curve. The task was made more difficult because my mind flashed with memories of our time together. I missed how our bodies joined so perfectly. The feeling of her skin under my fingertips was irresistible, soft and inviting like the finest silk. I remembered how she would arch her back slightly, an undeniable invitation as I stroked into her tight warmth, her body welcoming and responsive.
I missed touching her, but I had made a vow to myself not to claim her body again until I had made up for disappearing on her. Now that I had secured our future, I was eager to remind her what we were like together. After the ceremony, we would have a talk, so we could move forward.
“Everything will work out,” I assured her, patting her hand.
Jo quickly withdrew her hand, her expression unreadable, yet a subtle tension lingered in her posture, hinting at her unease.
“Sorry.” She looked at my hand and placed hers over it. “I was lost in my thoughts. I’m fine, and I know everything willbe okay. We should head over to the park. We don’t want to keep the officiant waiting.”
An hour later, we slipped plain thin gold bands on each other’s fingers. I had an engagement ring with a matching band, but I knew Jo wasn’t ready for it. If I had suggested it, we wouldn’t have exchanged vows in front of the two witnesses provided by the officiant because Jo would have bolted. Instead, it took only ten minutes for us to be declared married.
The moment the officiant said, “You may seal your marriage with a kiss,” I was overwhelmed by the weight of nearly five months without her touch. It was as if every unspoken word, every missed opportunity, and every longing I’d felt had culminated in that single act. I didn’t hold back as I cupped her nape and pulled her close, our lips meeting in a kiss that felt like both a beginning and a resolution.
Jo kissed me back; her grip on my shirt was tight. Her lips were soft, yet urgent, as if she too had been waiting for this moment. The kiss deepened, and for a fleeting second, the world around us faded.
The officiant’s throat-clearing broke the spell, and we both pulled apart, becoming acutely aware of being in the gazebo in the middle of the park. On lookers, were staring at us. Jo pressed a hand to her cheek, then buried her face in my shirt. I couldn’t care less what anyone thought of our display of affection. No, I was too busy grappling with the realisation that the kiss wasn’t just a resolution—it was a promise of everything yet to come.
“You two make a beautiful couple,” one witness commentedas we were all getting ready to part ways. “Would you like us to take some photos?”
While Jo hesitated, I quickly took them up on the offer. The suggestion was welcomed, somehow between the two of us, we hadn’t thought of memorializing our wedding day. She used Jo’s phone to capture images of my new wife and me.
We stood in front of a blooming garden, and I gently wrapped my arms around Jo from behind, pulling her close. Jo leaned back against me, her hands resting softly on mine as we both smiled brightly at the camera. Our poses felt natural and intimate. One day, when we looked at the photos and our temporary arrangement that began our marriage was a distant memory, the photos would bear witness to the fact that we had made the right choice.
