The F-Word

This is a romance, my beautiful wife’s and mine.

/> We marry on a sunny fall afternoon.

We have the ceremony right here, on our hilltop. We’ve already begun putting up our house, a sprawling contemporary that will blend into the land and the woods and, we hope, not disturb the creatures who also call this land home.

Bailey asks Casey to be her matron of honor. Coop is my best man. My little niece toddles down the aisle first, tossing flower petals in all directions.

We have a small wedding, because that’s how we both want it. Only people who matter share the day with us. There’s no ostentation, no glitter, no big buffet. Instead, my guys have put up a party tent and Casey’s come up with a caterer who’s done amazing things with free range chicken, grass-fed beef, tofu and tempeh. I have the feeling I can see all-out vegetarianism in my future, but that’s all right.

As long as Bailey and I have each other, we’ll be fine.

After the ceremony, after the party, when we are finally alone, we linger on our hillside, standing wrapped in each other’s arms as we try to count the stars.

“Impossible to do,” I say.

Bailey turns to me and smiles. And I am again reminded that it is possible to count the stars, the ones in my wife’s eyes.

“I have a confession to make,” she says softly.

I link my hands at the base of her spine. “Yeah?”

“Didn’t you ever wonder how come I just happened to be on the Pill that weekend we went to my cousin’s wedding?”

Actually, I had wondered, but I knew some women took the Pill to regulate their periods, or maybe to just be prepared.

I smile and drop a kiss on my wife’s hair. “Okay. How come?”

Her lips curve in an answering smile. “I went to my doctor’s office in the morning. Before we left. And I asked him for a prescription.”

“Oh.” And then it hits me. “You mean—”

“I mean,” she says, “I was determined to have my way with you that weekend, Mr. O’Malley, whether you were ready or not.”

I laugh softly. “Mrs. O’Malley, you are a wicked woman.”

My wife rises on her toes and brings her mouth to mine. “And you like me that way,” she whispers.

“I love you that way,” I tell her. “I love you all the ways you are.”

She sighs and clasps my face between her hands.

“I love you, Matthew,” she says. “I adore you.”

“That’s good,” I say. “Because I would be lost if you didn’t.” I lean my forehead against hers. “I will love you forever, sweetheart.”

Bailey smiles. “Forever,.”

And just in case you’re reading this and you still don’t get my message, here it is.

If you’re lucky, really lucky, Forever is the only F-Word that counts.