We’ve been married a year, but this feels different. Grounded. Real. Permanent.
I slowly bring her back up, our gazes locked. “I love you, babe.”
“I love you, too.”
I clasp her hand in mine and lift them both into the air with a loud whoop.
There arethree things I’m absolutely certain about right now: I love Jordan, Greek weddings kick ass, and I am most definitely drunk.
Not too drunk, but enough that the circle of people around me while I make a fool of myself dancing feels like a great idea. Dinner soaked up cocktail hour, and a couple shots before the dancing started seemed necessary. Jordan’s tipsy too, and I love seeing her like this—laughing, hair coming loose, completely unconcerned with who’s watching as she claps along to the music and tries to pull her grandfather into the circle.
Jordan pushes Jensen in next, and he drags Kevin in with him. A second later Jeff’s in there too, and somehow Cole ends up between us, doing some trendy move while everyone cheers him on.
Another song starts. Another circle forms. More clapping, more shouting, and at some point I lose my jacket. Jordan lost her shoes two hours ago.
String lights glow above us, and for a second I just stand there in the middle of it, watching her laugh, feeling like the luckiest fucking man alive.
I step out of the circle to catch my breath, my eyes fixed on my wife and her gorgeous smile.
Tonight’s been incredible. Loud. Fun. Unforgettable. Better than I could have imagined.
And it’s not even the best part.
It’s knowing this won’t end. That we get to keep doing life together.
Friday night dates. Game nights at the house. Jordan curled into my side during football while Cole and I eat too many buffalo wings and I pretend he doesn’t have sauce all over his face.
That’s what I’m looking forward to most.
Yiayiá’s gaze catches mine from across the dance floor. She smiles and nods once.
I nod back.
Another song starts, this one slower. The circle disperses, and Jordan breaks for me.
“Hey,” she says, breathless, her arms falling around my shoulders.
My hands automatically slide to her waist, pulling her in for a kiss.
“Hey, babe.”
We start swaying to the music, slow, my gaze on hers, unable to look away.
“I don’t want tonight to end,” she says softly.
“Me neither,” I murmur. “You did good, babe.”
She looks around, like it’s the first time she’s noticing everything. I wouldn’t be surprised if it is. Tonight’s been a whirlwind.
“I did do good,” she admits.
Her hand slides down to the bare skin of my chest, where I’ve loosened a button or two since the dancing began. “Thanks to you.” She grins, pausing before adding, “Did I tell you the guy I married is filthy rich?”
I chuckle. I’ve always loved her stupid jokes.
I lift a brow. “Really?”
She nods. “Yeah. But it’s not just that.” Her fingers toy with my collar. “He’s kind. He shows up. He listens… even when I’m tipsy and not making sense.” A smile spreads wide. “He makes me feel safe.”
