I closed my eyes and thanked God for this man. “I love you, too, Mike. With my whole heart and for all my days.”
Then he kissed me long and slow, his actions proving his words, breakfast forgotten. My husband’s love language was physical touch, and as we discovered, mine was words of affirmation. Having never heard them much growing up, I craved them. His perfect words were healing me slowly and completely. Our passionate kiss in the rain had turned to tenderness and adoration as he loved me with his words and with his body.
With no warning, he lifted me up, making me yelp, my legs wrapping around his waist, and my arms holding on around his neck. That move was doing things to my poor heart.
“How is it possible that a nerdy scientist has the kind of strength you do? I never see you work out,” I said, after I stopped laughing.
He shrugged. “Told you. Surfing does a body good.”
“I guess I need to change my mind about trying it then.”
Mike shook his head. “No way, gorgeous. You’re perfect just the way you are. Absolutely perfect.” His expression turned serious as his eyes scanned my face with a smile. “Ren, last night…”
I smiled widely. “Last night was magical.”
“Yeah, itwasmagical.” Kissing me tenderly, he said against my lips, “Say it again.”
Leaning my head back slightly to look him in the eyes, I said, “I love you, Mike. I love you so much. Thank you for showing me what love could look like.”
Tightening his grip on me, he answered, “Ren, I will love you through eternity, just as I promised. I have no idea how, no idea why God chose me to be the one to love you, but I will thank Him every day for the honor. Ti amo.”
“Ti amo anch’io. I love you, too.”
My heart was filled to overflowing for the gift God gave me in Michael Walker. Nerdy scientist, cocky surfer, woodworker extraordinaire. But my favorite of all his titles was ‘my husband.’ All my life, I’d secretly wished for this kind of love. Mike was right when he told me as we stood in the rain last night, that Ididknow how to love because of what I’d experienced with God.
Mike loved me just as the Bible said a husband should. Wholly, sacrificially, and unconditionally. He showed me what it felt like to give love and receive love. Just like the love of God I’d experienced, I felt cherished and safe to give myself completely to him with no fear of rejection, no fear of not being enough.
Apparently, I was still appreciating my handsome husband, (I mean God did some good work here), because he asked,“Where is your mind, my love?” He kissed me once more before gazing into my eyes.
When I blushed, he chuckled wickedly. “I love that after everything we shared last night?—"
“And early this morning, Data Boy,” I added, making him laugh loudly.
“Andearly this morning,” he echoed, “I love that I can still make you blush, and that makes my inner cavemansovery happy.”
I sighed dramatically, blushing furiously. “Well, it’s your fault, you know. Coming in here in all your shirtless, hairy glory,” I answered, leaning back to admire him once again, pushing his wild hair out of his face. “You’re kind of part yeti, husband.”
His eyebrows raised seductively, and he smirked. So cocky, this man was. “I’d be offended except I remember what you said about all my yetiness last night,” he whispered.
I smacked his arm and yelled, “Michael Walker!” He barked out a laugh, enjoying my embarrassment.
He tugged at the bottom of the T-shirt I was wearing.HisT-shirt, to be exact. “And what about you? Are you trying to kill me this early in the morning, wearing my clothes?”
Making a pouty face, I said, “Well, my clothes were still wet, so I grabbed the first thing I found. You have a thousand of these things, you know.” I pulled the T-shirt to my nose and inhaled, my eyes closing at the familiar scent. “Plus, it smells like you.”
“They look better on you,” he said huskily. “And what woke me up was your sweet gardenia smell on my pillow.”
“Davvero?” I asked, loving this little exchange.
He was smiling widely when he said, “Yes, thatisright. Spitfire, you make my knees weak when you talk to me in that sexy Italian voice.”
I leaned down to look at his legs. “You’dbetternot go all weak-kneed while you’re holding me.”
Mike shook his head slowly. “I’ll never drop you, Ren. I’ve got you and I always will.”
“I know you do. And I’ve got you.” Like so often since I’d met Mike, we were lost in each other’s eyes, in our own little private bubble. I was reminded of what God said about the beauty of intimacy in marriage and how incredible it would be.
Feeling sassy again, I said with a head tilt, “I’ll talk Italian to you if you get one of those long coats like Mr. Darcy inPride and Prejudice.”
