I didn’t know how long it lasted but, at some point, I heard the guy on the stage.
“That was us with a few less angsty songs, especially for our guitarist, Angelo Marchesi, who I think just got married off stage.”
To that, there was some clamoring and clapping from the people at the bar who, before that, seemed to enjoy the music as background to their evening out.
We broke our kiss, laughing against each other’s lips again, then turned to look at them.
“Thanks, John, guys. This is June, my wife.” Angelo raised his hand in salute. I noticed that Amber wasn’t there anymore.
A mix of “Congratulations,” “Mazel Tov,” and “Introduce us,” was cheered from the stage, along with raised beer bottles in our honor. The guy named John and another guitarist strummed their guitars while the drummer drum-rolled.
“Do you want to go back up there?” I jutted my chin toward the stage. “I’ll enjoy listening to you.”
“I want to take you home.” The look in Angelo’s eyes turned my knees to butter.
38
Angelo
We left her car behind and drove to my apartment together.
I unlocked the door, and as soon as June took a step forward, I swooped her up and carried her, laughing, over the threshold and straight to my bedroom.
Instead of laying her across the bed, as she seemed to expect me to, I sat her on the bed, her feet on the floor, and knelt in front of her.
June angled her head, unsure of why I was kneeling on one knee.
I reached into my bedside table and took out a red velvet box. I opened it.
“Angelo!” She threw her hands to cover her mouth.
“I know we said no kneeling, but I wanted to do this right.” I took out the ring with its dark blue sapphire that I had known would be hers the moment I’d seen it. “June Raine-Marchesi, will you remain my wife?”
She uncovered her mouth and slid her palms to her chest, as if she couldn’t contain this. “I do. I mean, I will!”
I put the ring on her finger, next to the wedding ring, held her hands in mine, and looked up.
June had tears in her eyes.
“I will,” she said again, smiling through the tears. She reached forward and kissed me.
I wrapped my arms around her, and she encircled my neck with hers, pulling me up to lie on top of her.
Cazzo, I missed her. I missed her cinnamon and blood oranges, the taste of her, the feel of her in my arms.
“I had a whole speech ready,” I mumbled.
She laughed against my lips and pushed her pelvis up to meet the hardness in my jeans. “I want to undress you, but I want to hear it first.”
“I don’t have much blood left in my brain, but I’ll try.” I half-laughed. Then, propping myself up on my forearms so I could look into her eyes, I brushed my fingers over her hairline and eyebrows, down along the features of her face, my thumb slowly dragging across her lips.
“What I wanted to tell you from that first morning after we broke the showerhead was that, as amazing as it was to be inside you, to see you go wild, to make you come, the highlight for me that night was to be with you when you laughed and cried, and you did both on the same night. I want it all, June. Your laughter and tears, your weird teas and sprouts, the moans you make when you eat ice cream, your horrible singing, your kindness to people who don’t invade your house, your feistiness when you’re trying to hide from me. You, all of you. And I need to hear you say it, too.”
Although she had said it in the club, I couldn’t get enough of hearing her say it.
“I love you, okay?” She grinned through tears, knowing her words mirrored the ones she had said on our first night in her bed. She then held my face between her hands. “I love you, Angelo. And I’m sorry it took me this long to admit it, but I was scared and didn’t know how to deal with what I feel for you. I don’t have previous love experience to compare you to, but I know that no one compares to you. If there is perfect in this world, to me, it’s you.”
“Not even the Valentine’s guy?”
