I close my eyes and try to visualize the big day. I picture Eva reading a speech and a whole crowd of people laughing. My dad would tear up seeing me in my dress, and my mom brag for years to come about how beautiful her daughter looked on her wedding day. I wonder what song my dad and I would dance to, and what song would play as I walk down the aisle. I imagine Eva waiting for me under a canopy of white flowers at the end, looking incredibly handsome in a suit; his blue eyes full of love as he reaches out his hand.
I sniff the roses from Evans, a million thoughts racing through my mind. I want what’s best for us as a couple, but I wish I had more time to think about everything before having to make such a big decision.
I’m not sure how much time passes before there’s a soft knock on the door and Evans cracks it open. “Am I still in the doghouse, Damien? I’m sorry I talked about the wedding planning behind your back.” He stands in the doorway with his shirt partially undone; his eyes are pleading with me to forgive him.
Before I can say anything, he continues his apology. “I really thought it would just take some of the stress off of you. I know you’re dealing with the baby, and with work, and adjusting. I thought I was helping. I’m really sorry.”
I look Evans over carefully. His hair is tousled like he’s been running his fingers through it downstairs, like he’s stressed. But his eyes are as bright and as clear as ever; my favorite shade of blue.
Damn those gorgeous eyes.
Even though I want to stay angry at him, he’s so hard to resist. My gaze moves down his body, from his handsome face to his strong biceps that are defined even through the fabric of his shirt. I look at his hands, and think of how many times those hands have given me pleasure, held me close, and cradled our precious son.
Evans must see me softening, because he smiles and takes a step further into our room. I keep my eyes locked onto his as I stand up from the bed and walk over slowly, taking my time. I wrap my arms around his neck, smelling the scent of his shampoo and his cologne, which is slightly spicy. He smells like home.
I rise up onto my tiptoes and kiss him softly, savoring the taste of him and the way his lips feel pressed against mine. Slowly he places a hand on the back of my neck and squeezes gently. My whole body erupts in pleasant goosebumps as he traces his fingers down beneath the collar of my dress. I press my body closer to him and hear him release a groan. I sigh into his mouth, thinking that I could kiss him forever.
“I know how you can make it up to me,” I whisper into his ear. “That is, if you’re ready?”