Don't Kiss the Bride

She melts me.

“Ya know what? I feel the same way. That’s my favorite day.”

I put my iPad on the nightstand and turn back to her.

“I’ve been thinking about something, too.”

Her eyebrow arches up inquisitively.

“I was thinking… if you want a baby someday, I’d be happy with that. If you don’t, I’m okay with that, too. But if you want a baby, I promise you, I’ll be a really good father. And I’ll be there with you in the delivery room, all that stuff. I’ll be there a thousand percent.”

She swallows hard and blinks up at me. “Lucky, I—”

“And if you decide you never want a baby, I’ll get a vasectomy. I don’t want you to have to take birth control for half your life. But I’m leaving the choice up to you.”

Leaning up, she touches her fingertip to my lips. “Shh… don’t say anymore. We’ll decide together someday. Right now, I just want us to focus on us.” She smiles gently. “But thank you for letting me know that it’s something we can do.”

“I just want you to have a happy life. With no regrets.”

She rolls over on top of me and smiles dreamily.

“You’re a really good husband, Jude,” she says.

I flash her my infamous smirk. “You’re a fuckin’ kick-ass wife.”

Bringing her lips to mine, we kiss softly, and entwine our fingers. Our wedding bands clink together, and it’s my favorite sound in the world.

Epilogue

Skylar

Two Years Later

Sipping a cup of tea, I sit cross-legged on the Sherpa chair in the corner of our master bedroom and watch snow flurries begin to fall from the sky. Gus jumps up to sit on the back of the chair and joins me in watching.

“There you are,” Jude says, coming into the room. He pulls off his sweatshirt and throws it into the hamper.

“Were you looking to give me a strip show?” I ask with a smile as my eyes rove over his muscular arms and chest appreciatively

Grinning back, he pushes his long hair out of his face and leans down to kiss me. “You wish,” he teases. “I’m putting something clean on because I’m taking you somewhere for a special surprise.”

Intrigued, I watch him disappear into the walk-in closet and reappear a few seconds later wearing a black, long-sleeved shirt that hugs his wide shoulders.

My heart thumps faster just looking at him. Jude is one of those men who gets better-looking with age, and I consider myself extremely lucky.

“Where are we going?” I ask. “Can you give me a hint?”

He takes my hand and pulls me up to my feet, wrapping his arm around my waist and drawing me in close. I go up on my toes and press my lips to his.

“You’ll see when we get there,” he says.

“Why do I have to wear a blindfold?” I ask after being in the car for ten minutes. “Do you not want me to see the speedometer so I can’t see how fast you’re driving my car?” I tease.

“I don’t want you to see where we’re going. It’ll ruin the surprise.” He reaches across the Corvette console and holds my hand. “Don’t worry, we’ll be there soon.”

“Is it still snowing?” I ask, worried about my car, which doesn’t drive well in rain or snow.

“No, it was just flurries.”

“Will we back in time to have dinner with Aunt Suzy and Uncle Al?”

“Yup.”

I have no idea where he’s taking me, but I’m excited and bursting with questions. The last time my husband surprised me, it was with a beautiful engagement ring and a Corvette. I have no idea how he can top that.

With a puppy, maybe.

Or a lovebird.

“Is it a puppy?” I ask excitedly.

I hear him scoff. “It’s not a puppy.”

“Is it a lovebird?”

“It’s not a lovebird. I told you if you want a bird, go hang out with Aunt Suzy. I don’t want a bird squawking and shitting sideways on the walls. Besides, Gus will eat it. Then you’ll cry, and I’ll feel horrible, then I’ll buy you another bird, and the circle will continue. I’ll go broke buying birds.”

“Gus wouldn’t do that,” I protest. “She’s a very gentle creature.”

“I’d rather not take any chances.”

“Are Megan and Erik involved in this surprise?” I ask, remembering how Megan helped Jude orchestrate his proposal.

“No.”

I feel the car pause and then turn.

“Are we there yet?”

“Almost.”

I raise his hand to my lips for a quick kiss and catch the faint scent of the Ernest Hemingway cologne I bought him for his last birthday. It instantly brings my mind back to making love with him in the tub last night, how the sexy aroma clung to his damp body. How his lips tasted like cinnamon-flavored toothpaste—his favorite. How he woke me in the middle of the night with kisses just to tell me he loves me, then we snuggled each other back to sleep.