Page 9 of I Do, or Dye Trying

“Wait,” I said before he tripped over a shoe on the way to the restroom. “I have just the thing.” I reached over and pulled out a flashlight from the bottom drawer in the bedside table. “Most people keep a Fleshlight in their drawers, but that’s not helpful during a power outage.”

“Oh, I think it could have its uses,” Gabe said jokingly.

I set the flashlight on the bathroom vanity so we could take a shower. There was plenty of hot water stored in the tank, so we didn’t need to rush. I liked the dimmed light in the bathroom while I ran soapy hands all over my man’s body. It wasn’t as sexy as a candlelit bath, but it was still pretty hot.

After we finished, we lay together in the dark and listened to the sounds of rain on the roof. It was one of Gabe’s favorite things, and I wasn’t sure how many times he would get the opportunity to hear it before we moved. I noticed I didn’t thinkif, because buying Georgia’s mansion was a foregone conclusion in my mind. It was our dream, and it would happen.

The rain continued long after the lightning stopped and the wind died down. I figured we’d just lie there quietly until we fell asleep, but Gabe had other plans. “Close friends and family only,” he said into the darkness. “Sweet and simple.”

“Next week’s barbecue?” I asked in mock ignorance. “Damn, I was thinking about having a block party.” Gabe pinched my ass hard enough to leave a mark. “Ouch!”

“I’ll kiss it later if you stop being a brat,” Gabe said. “You know damn well I’m talking about our wedding.”

“Yeah, I know,” I told him. “I was just revving you up. What kind of wedding did you think I had in mind?”

“It’s hard telling with you,” Gabe said.

I raised up on my elbow and looked down at him, even though I couldn’t see anything. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” Gabe said. “I was just revving you up.”

“Oh, in that case,” I said, lying back down beside him. I pinched his nipple hard enough to make him hiss and arch his back.

“You little hellcat,” Gabe said. I could hear him rubbing his hand over his affliction.

“I’ll kiss it later if you stop being a brat,” I mimicked.

“It’ll have to wait until tomorrow because I probably can’t get it up again until then,” Gabe said.

“That’s a glowing endorsement if I’ve ever heard one,” I said. “Not even married yet and I’ve rendered you limp.”

Gabe rolled me to my back to switch our positions and leaned over me. “Yeah, you rendered me limp because your tight, greedy ass milked every ounce of spunk I had. It’s going to take some time for my splooge factory to make some more.”

I laughed hard at his ridiculousness even though I felt a little pride that I wore him out; it was no easy feat. “You need to get some sleep anyway, since you’re returning to work tomorrow,” I said.

“I seriously want to hear what you envision for our wedding,” Gabe said to me.

“I hadn’t given it much thought yet,” I replied honestly. “It’sourwedding soweshould discuss whatwewant for the big day.”

“No fucking clowns,” Gabe groused. “That much I know.”

“Gabriel Allen Wyatt,” I said in frustration. “We’re having a wedding, not a circus. Why in the hell would I have clowns at our wedding?”

“Just throwing that out there,” Gabe said like it made perfect sense to him that it should be part of the conversation.

“I would never do something like that to you,” I told him. It was true that I wanted to send that new clown emoji a time or two, but I didn’t. People should take phobias seriously. “I was thinking less circus tent and more elegant and timeless. I have thought about what we’re going to wear,” I confessed then told him what I had in mind.

“Perfect,” Gabe said. “I’ll try not to get a raging hard-on while thinking about you wearing your aqua blue undies beneath. Are you going to put an aqua streak in your hair?”

I thought about it for a few heartbeats then shook my head. “Nah, as fun as it is sometimes, I don’t think I want that in our wedding pictures. It’s not elegant or timeless.”

“What about food?” Gabe asked, getting to the heart of his priorities. “Are we going to eat outside?”

“Hmmmmm. I think I know,” I said, envisioning a large marquee with gauzy white fabric and buffet tables laden down with a variety of savory meats and delicious side dishes for our guests to choose from. I described what I saw in great detail and smiled at the happy sounds Gabe made. My man loved only one thing more than food, and that was me.

“We know what we’re wearing and what we’ll be eating,” Gabe said. “Who do you want to officiate our wedding? Rocky?” I tried to tweak his nipple again, but he pinned my hands above my head before I could land my pinching fingers.

“I was thinking about my dad’s best friend, Niles McDonnell,” I told Gabe. “He’s a retired county judge who fills in during vacations and illnesses. He’d still have the authority to marry us, and I always thought of him as my uncle and not just my dad’s best friend.”