For a second, I panic. I can’t even read the look on her face and that worries me. “Rebel. What’s wrong?”
Then she smiles. It’s big. It’s bright. It’s beautiful. It’s everything. She grabs my hand and guides it to her belly, flattening her palm over mine.
“There.” Her eyes light up with excitement. “Do you feel it?”
I’m stunned into silence. Because fuck yeah, I do feel it. It’s not exactly a karate kick. But the kid’s only the size of a large eggplant. Every week, Lila updates me. Which fruit or vegetable can we compare our kid to this week? Yesterday, while she was on a spa day with Christy and Sophie, she texted a row of eggplant emojis. I was with Tommy and Brody, and my brothers doing last minute wedding preparations to the dome tent in our field where our reception will be held.
“That’s what got her into this mess in the first place,” Tommy said.
We’d all laughed like pre-pubescent teens sharing a dirty joke.
Now I just want to cut to the chase and start my future right here, right now. So I turn to the officiant, a woman in her fifties with the patience of a saint, and I tell her, “I think we’re done here. Can you pronounce us man and wife so I can kiss my baby mama?” The poor woman just laughs and shakes her head.
“Oh Jude,” Lila says, through her laughter and the tears I brush away with the pads of my thumbs. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Why, thank you.” I give her a cocky wink that makes her laugh even harder.
I barely hear the officiant’s words. All I know is that we’re married and I’ve put a ring on it. Without waiting, I pull Lila into my arms. We kiss for a thousand years while our friends and family cheer for us.
It doesn’t matter that we didn’t save all our firsts for each other. She will always be my first, my last, and my only true love.
Forever. Always. My once in a lifetime. Not many people are lucky enough to find their soulmate at the age of nine, but I’m one lucky bastard. The day I met Lila, the stars aligned. And if necessary, I’ll spend a lifetime putting them back in the sky for her.
Eight Months Later
Three months after our wedding, Levi Patrick McCallister made his grand entrance into the world. He was born on the fifth of July at one in the morning. From our hospital room, we could hear the faint sound of fireworks in the distance while Lila was in labor. We joked that he came into the world with a bang. His first name is our little inside joke. Lila made me promise to take it to my grave so we wouldn’t traumatize the poor kid. But someday maybe I’ll tell him that he was named after the Levi’s that Lila bought me. Zippers, not buttons, for easier access. Second thought, he doesn’t need to know that.
Now she’s unzipping said jeans and pulling them down while I rip off her clothes. In two seconds flat, we’re naked. Lifting her up, I maneuver around the mountain of wrapped gifts under the tree, soft white Christmas lights illuminating the room, and lay her down on the sheepskin rug in front of the stone fireplace. Her skin glows in the firelight and I take a moment to appreciate every dip and curve and swell of her naked body before I kiss my way up her thighs. I kiss her stomach, her breasts and the tattoo on her ribs just below her left breast. The lotus tattoo serves as a constant reminder of what we lost but it also symbolizes our rebirth. For me, it’s become a symbol of hope. It blooms in darkness, delicate and beautiful, yet resilient. Like Lila.
I continue peppering kisses on her chest, neck and lips before I settle between her thighs, guiding my tip to her entrance.
Always so greedy and impatient, she grabs the back of my head and wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me closer. Our lips collide and she shifts her hips, trying to take me inside her all at once.
I tskk. “Patience.”
“We don’t have that kind of time.”
Good point.
“I want you now. I need you now.”
Who am I to argue with that? Her words spur me into action. In one thrust, I’m buried to the hilt and this, right here, will always be my favorite place.
Pure. Fucking. Heaven.
I glide in and out of her, and she rocks her hips, meeting me thrust for thrust. I kiss her deeply and she drags her nails across my shoulder blades. Her back arches off the plush rug and she throws back her head, exposing her neck, an invitation to kiss the pulse point at her throat. It flutters beneath my lips.
Her fingers tangle in my hair and she whispers, “I love you.”
“I love you more.”
We hold onto each other, our eyes locked as I move inside her, my strokes hard and long, rubbing against her clit, against her everything. We’re almost there, but not yet.
“Come with me, Lila.” I brush my lips over her jaw.
“I’m not letting you go anywhere without me.” She grabs my shoulders and squeezes as she angles her hips to allow me to go deeper.
I slam into her, filling her up, relentless until we’re both panting and a sheen of sweat coats our skin.
“Oh God, Jude…” A scream rips from her lungs and her teeth sink into my shoulder, dragging a deep groan from the back of my throat. There’s no holding back now. Our pace is frenzied, graceless and lacking rhythm, driven by the primal need to lose ourselves in each other, to lose control and chase our high together.
As we hurtle into shared orgasms, she calls out my name, her thighs quivering and lips parted. I come with a vengeance that’s almost violent.
With a shudder, I collapse on top of her, my forehead dropping
