She scoffs. “You say that now, but you haven’t had to stare down the barrel of period sex yet.”
We both fall silent at that, I imagine because we’re thinking the same thing but afraid to say it out loud.
Hopefully we won’t have to cross that bridge for a while.
I stare down at her as I graze my finger over her arm again. “I’m not afraid of a little menstrual blood, you know,” I remind her after a minute, hoping she hears the double meaning behind it.
“That makes one of us,” she says softly, and I reach down to tilt her chin up for a kiss, morning breath be damned.
“Is it selfish of me to say that I almost wouldn’t mind a little more time to ourselves?” I confess when I pull away.
It’s not something I’d have divulged outside of this context, but it’s the truth. Sure, I’d been looking forward to all this physical intimacy, but it turns out that I enjoy it even more than I expected. And although a baby would be the cherry on top of an already amazing whirlwind romance, the thought has occurred to me that I could very easily make the best of things if we didn’t get pregnant immediately.
She lifts one shoulder in a shrug, and I add, “Technically, we’re still within our honeymoon window. And we have some lost time to make up for, right?”
“You’re such a MacBook,” she mutters, though she’s smirking.
“Well, you know what they say, once you go Apple …” I tease as I pull her on top of me. One of her signature laughs escapes, and I stare up at her in complete awe of the fact that I managed to make this woman my wife. I run my hands over her sides, checking again to make sure she’s real.
“There’s nothing I could have done to deserve you, you know.”
Her smile softens. “I thought it’s what you didn’t do that earned all this for us.”
I shake my head. “Can I say something weird?”
“Always,” she declares.
“When I look at you like this, I can’t imagine everything we’re supposed to believe about God isn’t true.”
She glances down at herself, then narrows her eyes at me. “And I thought you were an ass man.”
I chuckle. “I’m talking about the way I botched things up so badly for us in the beginning, yet you’re still here with me right now, even though you shouldn’t be. Not only did He send me the perfect wife, my soulmate, undeserving as I am, but He sent her to me at the right time, in the right place, so she’d make me a better man. Even though I’m a sinner, I’ve been blessed beyond my wildest dreams, and all I had to do was let God lead me. Well, He may have had to drag me at some points, but He still brought me here, to you.”
She leans down and kisses me after that. “Yeah,” she says, sniffling when she pulls away. “Ditto. I mean, amen, or whatever.”
I laugh and wipe an errant tear from her cheek, and she leans forward to rest her head on my collarbone. But she pops up a second later to remind me that we’re supposed to be getting ready for Mass by now.
“It’s either get up now or skip the coffee,” she says, pushing off my chest as she moves to swing her leg over me.
“Who needs coffee?” I grunt, grabbing her and holding her in place.
She smirks at me. “Coffee first, then shower.”
My brow lifts when I realize it’s an invitation, and I finally let her go.
I slip on my boxers and my glasses, and Oscar and Frankie are waiting to greet me when I shuffle into the kitchen. After starting the coffeemaker, I let them outside and reward their successful business venture with some of the bacon we keep on the counter for them. Then I return to our bedroom with two mugs of fresh coffee.
“We may have to chug these. I’m afraid it’s later than I realized …” But I trail off when I walk into the bathroom and see my wife crying from her place on the toilet.
“Claire?” I breathe, my heart stopping.
Her chin trembles and she shrugs, unable to meet my eyes at first.
“Claire,” I repeat, softer, though I know exactly what she’s going to say.
She finally looks up at me and shakes her head solemnly, and I set the hot coffee down to kneel before her.
“I’m sorry, my love,” I tell her.
