“Oh” is all I’m able to say.
Neither of us look at each other, both of us probably feeling a mixture of shame and remorse from where we let our emotions take us a couple of hours ago.
“Come here,” he instructs with an outstretched hand.
Still holding on to my clothes, trying to cover as much of my private parts as possible, I take his hand and move to where he is.
He grabs an orange envelope from the dining room table and walks us over to the fireplace. He removes papers from the envelope, takes our ending in his hands, rips it to pieces. Tosses it on top of wood. Clicks the remote to the gas a few times until the hum of gas kicks in and fire slowly begins to burn what would have been our demise.
Our hands tighten around each other’s as we watch those divorce papers turn to ashes.
Trevor turns to me, says, “This is our beginning.” He clicks the remote again to shut the gas off.
Though the light from the fire diminishes, the light in my eyes glows.
Hand in hand we walk upstairs. When he opens our bedroom door, several candles are lit. Sheets are pulled back on the bed with rose petals sprinkled over it.
“Remember our honeymoon?”
I feel my cheeks spread from ear to ear. “I do.”
On my pillow, petals form a heart and a letter with my name on it is in the middle of it.
“Read it,” Trevor says. “When you’re done, join me in the bathroom.”
We decided not to write our own vows when we married. But my husband surprised me on our wedding night by putting his written vows on my pillow for my eyes only. I thought it was the sweetest thing ever. I went to a printer and had them overlay the vows over one of our wedding pictures. It’s been on my nightstand ever since.
I unfold the paper to see a resignation letter to his job.
With the letter in my hand and tears streaming down my face, I join my husband in the bathroom. “You did this for me?” I ask him.
He helps me in the tub, gets in behind me. Says, “Couldn’t imagine doing it for anyone else.”
We settle into the tub together. His legs straddle my body. I lean my head back on his chest. “I can’t believe you’re letting your job go.”
“It needed to be done. In order for this marriage to work, it had to be done.”
Nothing else needs to be said. I understand him and he understands me.
He rubs his soapy hands up and down my arms, rubs my neck. Takes a few suds and teases my nipples. He smoothes my curls to the side, whispers in my ear, “I miss making love to my wife.”
“I miss my husband making love to me.”
He kisses behind my ear. His lips make love to my burnt-almond skin. He turns my face up toward his and our lips connect. My mouth opens, his tongue greets mine. I can still taste my love on his tongue from earlier. Can feel him hardening against my back as my love below coos.
“Wait,” Trevor says. He fumbles in the water for a washcloth. He pours my favorite black orchid and velvet hibiscus body wash on it and lathers me up from my neck to my toes. He leaves no skin unclean. I take the washcloth and do the same to him. We jump in the stand-alone shower to rinse the suds off and run water through our hair to get rid of the chlorine. I hand him a bottle of lavender oil for him to rub me down before I pat myself dry. I take the bottle and do the same for him. He squeezes as much water out of his locs as possible, then carries me back into the bedroom.
Everything about tonight reminds me of our honeymoon. He did the same exact things the night we married.
He lays me on the bed ever so gently. “Turn over.”
I do as told.
He warms oil in his hands and places them on my back. He’s careful around the scratches I got from the pool. Soft kisses apologize to my tender spots. His hands work out every worry in my body, every fear, every doubt. His lips do the same thing to the opposite side of my body, starting with my face. He kisses my forehead, my eyelids, my lips. We stay mouth to mouth for a while, slowly tonguing each other with so much passion. He sucks my bottom lip before heading further south. Locs tickle my skin as his tongue traces the roundness of my nipples. He does one then does the other. Goes back and forth before putting both breasts in his mouth at the same time. He does that and I swear the rivers of life flow from between my thighs.
His lips continue down to the land of milk and honey. “Baby, you are so wet.”
“You did that,” I say.