Reckless Point (21 page)

Three weeks later…

S
everal of the crepe streamers from the picnic tables came off in my hands and I laid them across my dress.  The sky was darkening and the last of the guests had left. 

“That,” I said, “was the best wedding I’ve ever participated in.” 

Marco laughed as he tied up a garbage bag full of paper plates and napkins.  He had removed his jacket and rolled up his shirt.  He looked sexy as hell and as I watched him I couldn’t wait for our wedding night. 

“Think the rest of this will wait until tomorrow?” he asked, dropping the bag with a pile of others.

“I think you have other, more pressing chores to attend to,” I said, standing and letting the crepe flutter to the ground. 

Marco looked interested.  “Like what?”

“Me.”

My new husband reached me in two long strides.  His kiss was as exciting as it was the first time we’d touched and as his strong hands moved over my body’s curves I felt myself begin to open up, wanting him. 

He broke the kiss and raised an eyebrow.  “Well, Mrs. Bendetti, according to the old ways, a marriage isn’t legal until it’s consummated.”

I took his hand and held it against my stomach.  “Assuming they hadn’t already,” I reminded him. 

He lovingly patted the vague swell of my belly.  I sighed happily and let him pull me close.  I let my head rest on his shoulder as we moved together, dancing to music only we could hear.  Our backyard nuptials wouldn’t have satisfied richer tastes, but to me the day was perfect.  We exchanged vows under the old maple tree in front of the house I grew up in.  Afterwards we invited everyone for a party in Marco’s backyard and it seemed three quarters of Cross Point Village and all their cousins showed up. Tom Hennessy barbecued up a storm.  Krista, Shannon and Cindy decorated the yard from end to end with an almost obnoxious abundance of flowers and crepe paper.  My parents beamed until I feared their faces would freeze in toothy delight for all eternity.  Lanie drove out from Boston and eyed some of Marco’s biker friends with interest.

As Marco’s brother, Damien, hugged me tightly before leaving for New York he handed me an envelope.  “Don’t tell him until I’m out of here,” he said with a laugh.  “He’ll argue and put up a fuss and I’m not taking no for an answer.” 

I opened the envelope.  It was a property deed.  Damien had signed over his interest in 17 Polaris Lane to Mr. and Mrs. Marco Bendetti.  I wasn’t a crying sort but I choked up with emotion as I hugged my new brother-in-law.  For a second I wondered once again about my own brother, Tony.  We hadn’t been able to get in touch with him to invite him to the wedding.  His phone had been shut off, his landlord said he’d skipped out, and we didn’t know where else to look.  I hoped that somehow he would show up anyway.  But I wasn’t surprised when he didn’t.  It was the only brief sadness of the day. 

Marco rubbed my back
and I leaned into him more closely, kissing his neck. Even through all the layers of fabric on my off-the-rack department store wedding dress, I could feel how eager he was to get the post-wedding festivities underway.  I kissed him ardently, letting him know I wanted it too. 

Later, as I lay in Marco’s arms in our newly remodeled bedroom
of his old house, I listened to the peaceful thud of his heart and thought about how long it took us to get here.  As kids, we’d always known each other and yet we’d never known each other.  It took us a long time to grow into the people we turned out to be.  And it so happened, we were perfect together. 

If you asked ten t
housand couples you’d hear ten thousand tales.  And they might all be pretty damn close to the same love story, with slight variations, each perhaps told a little bit differently.

This was mine. 

***

About the author:

I love wild romantic stories, grunge era flannel, my vintage Kenmore sewing machine, embroidered dishcloths and absolutely everything that has to do with 1980s pop culture (i.e. leg warmers, scrunchies, big hair, early Madonna, boom boxes, wood paneled walls, stonewash jeans, etc).

If you believe in Happily Ever After and the unique magic of a John Hughes film, chances are I’ll love you too!! 

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