The World Outside, 27
House
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NOW
The walk that severed Joanna’s old life and new felt long—and then, suddenly, there she was, facing him, repeating the words that made everything real. When he stepped forward and kissed her, someone whooped and Mary yelled out, “It’s about time!”
They sauntered up the aisle, laughing and kicking sand in their wake, and then Erik surprised Joanna by sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her up the porch steps and into the house. Once inside, Erik pushed her faster than she’d have thought he could against the nearest wall and kissed her hard. He broke away as people began making their way in, but the look he fixed her with left nothing to the imagination.
The transition between ceremony and party was over quickly, with the guests mingling or helping or both; before Joanna knew it, there was a full-fledged lobster bake on their hands. The atmosphere was exactly what she’d pictured: a big, relatively low-key party with all her favorite people. Andy had rigged a couple of speakers and his iPod, so there was music to keep people entertained. She made the rounds and received everyone’s congratulations, keeping one eye on Erik who was manning the fires with Bruce and Poppa. He held a bottle of beer loosely in one hand, and he had a streak of dirt across his sweaty face. He was hers now, and it made her dizzy.
By the time the food had been eaten, the tables had been cleared, the toasts had been offered, and Andy’s playlist had gone through several rounds, it was close to six in the evening. Mary and Andy were the first to say goodbye—Andy had to be back at the airport at 6 the next morning, and he was still exhausted. He shook Erik’s hand and gave Joanna a friendly hug. Mary, crying again, grabbed them both and yelled, “I freaking love you guys!” Joanna kissed her on the cheek and watched as they walked away, their heads bent toward each other, Andy rubbing slow circles on her back. Whatever stress weighed on them with their schedules and lack of family nearby, they seemed happier together than Joanna would have guessed.
The other guests trickled out not too long after Mary and Andy had left; by 7:30, they were alone. When they went inside the cottage—their cottage!—they saw that someone, or multiple someones, had straightened up and stocked the fridge with all the leftovers for them. There was nothing else for them to do, except admire the mountain of gifts on the couch and eye each other from across the room.
“How do you feel?” Joanna asked shyly, folding and refolding a dish towel by the counter.
“I feel ready,” Erik told her simply.
“Ready for what?”
A self-satisfied look on his face, Erik crossed the room to her in a handful of slow and deliberate steps and then stopped, his hands in his pockets, his chest and shoulders broad and square.
“Ready to have my wife.”
Joanna eyed him, her eyes huge, her hands frozen on top of the dish towel. He placed one of his hands on the small of her back and led her, gently but firmly, to the ladder that reached up to the loft.
Here we go, she told herself, grasping the rung closest to her head. It wasn’t until this moment that she had realized that the first time she had sex with him, she would first have to climb up a ladder in front of him. In a dress. She closed her eyes and breathed out slowly, willing her knees to stop shaking.
When she reached the top, with Erik a moment or two behind her, she stood up straight and stared at the bed. Erik had left it neatly made this morning, and he’d used the new sheets she’d bought a few days earlier. It was really theirs now.
Erik cleared his throat.
“What now?” she asked him. She wasn’t sure if the tremor in her voice was from nerves or desire.
“Well—are you ready?” His voice was kind, but there was a look of deliberation on his face that she hadn’t ever seen before. She nodded and took short, shallow breaths as he walked to her.
“Y-you should…go slow the first time…so it, um, doesn’t hurt,” she blurted out.
Erik chuckled lightly and nodded. “I know,” he said.
By now, he was standing right in front of her; he put his arms around her and kissed her forehead. So far, so good, she thought, looking up at him.
He brought one hand up to the nape of her neck and found the zipper. He lowered it, slowly, and then he pushed the top of her dress off her shoulders and stepped back as it fell in one piece to the floor. Then, he led her to the bed.
+++
The rest of the night passed in a haze of sensations, peppered with bouts of sleep so deep that Joanna was surprised, each time she woke up, to see that only an hour or so had passed. She had never felt so much of Erik’s skin on so much of hers before; she couldn’t believe how warm he was. There were whole stretches of time when Erik just kissed her—her stomach, her shoulder, the space behind her knees, the insides of her wrists—and repeated Joanna Joanna Joanna. The whole thing felt a little weird to her. Not bad, by any means. The kissing, the squeezing, the tangling of limbs made her head spin and caused that ineffable feeling to swirl up through her legs and into her stomach. But the rest of it…it was a strange business.
The first time, Joanna was too nervous to do anything but lie there (much like their first kiss, she remembered vaguely). By the third or fourth time that night, she had relaxed somewhat and arched her back in order to feel him more fully—a move that caused a sound she’d never heard to escape Erik’s lips.
In the aftermath, Erik scooted one arm underneath her neck and pulled her close into the fold of his body.
“Was that…I mean…okay?” Joanna couldn’t help but ask.
“Oh, hell yes. You’re amazing.” He kissed the back of her neck, tightened his hold on her for a moment, and sighed. “Goodnight, wife.”
Joanna smiled. “Goodnight, husband.”
+++
They spent the next week in a luxury cottage in the Adirondacks, complete with a king-size bed, in-room jacuzzi, big screen TV, spa-like shower, and a kitchenette so they wouldn’t have to venture out at all if they didn’t want to. Erik kept them moving, though: they hiked or headed into town every day and then fell into bed for a couple of hours before finding somewhere for dinner every night. When they first checked in and opened the door to their cottage, they were stunned by the rose petals covering the bedspread, the Champagne and glasses, the strawberries and chocolates.
“This is so beautiful,” Joanna breathed.
“Yeah, it is—let’s mess it up,” Erik agreed, coming up behind her. He dropped their luggage to the floor and pushed her onto the bed, already unhooking her bra.
Sometime later, when the rose petals had been well and truly mussed, and they’d eaten most of the strawberries and finished the Champagne, and Erik was snoring lightly on his stomach, Joanna sat up in bed. She ran a hand across his back, watching how her fingers rose and fell over the peaks and valleys of his shoulder blades, and she thought, This is my husband. My husband. I am a man’s wife. She giggled and stretched her arms over her head languidly, sighing like a well-used woman. She was sore, and she’d been walking funny all day, but she was enjoying herself.
Joanna cried a little bit when they pulled away the following Sunday. Neither of them had to return to work until Wednesday, but still—she couldn’t remember ever having a better week and now, real life loomed ahead of them.
They spent Monday and Tuesday lolling in bed, walking the beach, unpacking and merging Joanna’s things with Erik’s, and shopping for groceries. Joanna loved cooking for Erik—he was a great audience. No matter what she put in front of him, he was impressed and happy, and he ate everything. It made her feel like a wizard.
On Tuesday night, Joanna made a big bowl of popcorn and a batch of chocolate chip cookies; they watched Superman Returns on the couch and snacked in place of dinner. They climbed up the ladder to bed early that night; as they laid like spoons in bed, Erik murmured against the back of her neck, “Well—tomorrow, here we come.”