I lean against the balcony railing and soak in the late summer air and breathtaking sights. Rome at night is magical, all golden lights reflecting off majestic buildings in direct competition with the twinkling stars above. Car horns beep in the distance alongside sounds of city life, and all I can think is: I am so lucky to be standing here right now.
Jonah initially suggested Tahiti for our honeymoon, and ... I love Tahiti, that much is true. I absolutely adore the house resting on stilts out in the sparkling blue ocean; it’s paradise for sure. But to me, Rome and this apartment are the perfect place to spend the first few days of married life in. Outside of pilfering its hidden monetary contents when I ran away last year, Rome holds only the best kind of memories for me. Jonah brought me here to heal once, and I fell deeply, passionately, forever in love with this magnificent city. And now, here we are, Mr. and Mrs. Whitecomb, and I could not be more content.
Warm arms wrap around me from behind, a chin settling on my shoulders. “Penny for your thoughts?”
I close my eyes and lean my head back against him. “I was thinking,” I murmur, “how perfect today is.”
Fingers trail down my bare arms as he presses a lingering kiss against the corner of my mouth; hot hot heat flashes through my body like wildfire. How is it, after knowing each other so long, his touch can still do this to me so easily?
I turn in his arms and lose myself in those cerulean eyes that have mesmerized me from the first moment I gazed into them. My hands cup his face. There’s no blocking of emotions tonight, not today, not when there’s so much happiness inside me that I couldn’t stop it from spilling out even if I tried my hardest. “I am so ridiculously in love with you.”
His mouth finds mine, so soft at first, all brushes and teasing that have me gasping in need. Light fingers draw paths once more down my arms, leaving behind shivers and delicious trails of goose bumps, before curling around my waist. One of my hands sinks into his hair, fingers twirling around dark strands, tugging his face closer. I return the favor, my kisses oh-so soft, my tongue tracing the corners of his mouth and full lips. I want to eat up the shudder that rolls through his body, and hold in my memories the sound that comes through his parted lips, the one that lets me know he wants me just as much as I want him.
And oh, oh, I want him so.
Fingers paint words and stories up my waist to my chest, beautiful ones that promise me wonderful things; my shudders match his. “I love you, too. More than you could ever know.”
I’ve heard these words from him before, and yet, each time he shares them with me, the muscle in my chest that keeps me alive threatens to burst into glittery shards of elation. The funny thing is, I think I do know how much he loves me, because if it’s anything like how I feel, it’s the sum of all our parts chasing infinity.
Our mouths reconnect, hotter now, our tongues dancing in waltzes and tangoes until all the stars in the heavens above us float down into my eyelids and transform into fireworks: blues, pinks, purples and gold and silver. Time stands still, or maybe it speeds up and spins madly around us: minutes and seconds nothing more to us than distant, irrelevant remnants of a past. The balcony disappears as we stumble back into the apartment, shirts and dresses and pants our breadcrumbs for the trail we leave behind. My back finds the bed and, without even trying, I bring the stars from outside in as twinkling lights sway to invisible songs in the warm air above us. Jonah hovers over me, and as I drink in all that is him and good in the worlds, all I can think is how much I love him, how blessed I am, and how forever is not nearly long enough.
But we can start with this moment and work our way there.