Nancy had done everything she could not to end up here, but at some level she had known it was inevitable.
She didn't have cold feet; she wasn't anxious about what the next day held for her. She couldn't deny that she was weary, though. After months of planning, making decisions, making purchases that ranged from insignificant to extravagant, the behemoth—she hated referring to their wedding that way, but there was no better label for it—was fully in motion, and all that remained was to be swept up by it.
Ned had joked two months into their engagement that it would be infinitely easier to just run away together. She had thrown a mock glare his way, and his mother had immediately objected, but privately Nancy had agreed. It would be easier. It would have been easier. And now the finish line was in sight.
Which was the opposite of how she had always felt about it, really. The ceremony that joined them as a married couple was supposed to be a beginning, not an ending. She had known couples who struggled and ultimately failed under the weight of it, a weight she didn't understand. How could it be a burden?
She was marrying her best friend. Ned wouldn't see it as a portent of disaster if the centerpiece wasn't perfectly symmetrical or if the flower girl tripped, or if Mike accidentally put the ring in the wrong pocket and took thirty seconds longer to hand it over. The only thing that could possibly put him off his stride would be her absence, and he had promised her that if he had to, he would toss her over his shoulder and carry her down the aisle. Any mystery she stumbled across, he promised, could wait.
And it could. They could be married for fifty years, but they would probably only have one wedding day, even one as tightly scheduled and rigidly controlled as tomorrow would be.
Once in a lifetime was right. If they ever had to do it again, Nancy would beg for Fiji.
The apartment wasn't huge or new. It had been updated some, but the updates were five years old. It was clean, though, and neat. Ned had already mostly moved in, and most of Nancy's belongings were there too, at least the ones that were leaving her father's house. It did feel like an adventure, in a way: picking out a comforter, curtains, colorful rugs, furniture. She and Ned wouldn't even be spending the night here until after their honeymoon; their wedding night wouldn't be here.
But this, to her, was the real starting point. In a way, their wedding day did mark the end of something: the end of being single, of dating, of there being any doubt whatsoever about either of their feelings. The apartment wouldn't be their home forever, but it would be their first. And this was what all the planning and headache and compromise was for, so they could reach this place.
When the front door opened, Nancy's eyes widened. Someone had broken in! Her fingers were grasping the handle to open her car door when what she was seeing registered. The would-be thief was empty-handed, although that didn't mean he hadn't just been wiping down the place for prints or doing a last once-over. He moved easily, unhurried. And the streetlamp in front of their place played over his dark hair.
Her heart had just begun to slow when it resumed pounding again. Ned? He wasn't supposed to be here.
But then his bachelor party had been the previous night. She had just assumed he wouldn't be here, that he'd be spending his last unmarried night at his parents' house, as she was. Should have been, anyway.
She glanced at her watch as Ned approached her car. Just after three a.m. Well, his presence here probably meant he didn't have cold feet. She didn't see a moving or pickup truck parked in front, loaded up with his belongings, a preliminary to telling her he had changed his mind and they wouldn't live here together after all.
Nancy's mouth quirked up on one side in a sarcastic smile. She had long known that, between the two of them, any bets would have been on her to call it off. She had been reluctant to settle down for a long time, but Ned's devotion to her hadn't wavered.
Ned had almost reached her car when she opened the door and stepped out, keys in her hand. His mouth was just opening when she said, "What are you doing here?"
He checked whatever he was about to say and just chuckled. "Good morning," he replied, his arm coming around her when he reached her, and she melted willingly into his arms, breathing out in a sigh. Especially recently, so much of their time had been monopolized by plans, rehearsals, taking care of out-of-town guests, that it felt like they hadn't had much time at all to just relax together.
"Just finishing unpacking," he answered her question, as he pulled back a little. "Couldn't sleep."
She raised her eyebrows. "Cold feet, Nickerson?"
He grinned. "Et tu?" Then he leaned forward and kissed her earlobe, the point of her jaw, the flesh just below her ear. "What are you doing here?"
"Couldn't sleep," she parroted back, although her lashes were drifting down. She ran her fingers through his hair, leaning back against the car, shivering at the feel of his breath against her skin.
"I was told to be at the wedding breakfast at eight," he murmured. "Doing anything before that?"
Her eyes were still closed as she replied, "Taking a shower and avoiding the awful underwear I have to squeeze into for my dress."
"Awful?"
She smiled as Ned pulled back and looked into her face. "Trust me." She searched his eyes. "I've missed you."
It seemed ridiculous, given everything, but Ned nodded immediately in understanding. "I've missed you too, babe. Come on inside. I'll... make you some tea or something."
Nancy laughed as she threaded her fingers through Ned's and they began to walk toward the apartment.
"What?" Ned replied, exaggerated hurt in his voice. "No tea?"
"You didn't want to go with 'I'll come up with a creative way to tire you out'?"
"It is my wedding day," Ned replied, in mock affront. "All such activities are limited to after... what, nine o'clock tonight?"
She sighed as he gestured for her to enter before he did. "If we're lucky," she said wearily, and put her purse down, then dragged her fingers through her hair. "That whole running away together idea has sounded better and better every day."
He smiled at her before vanishing into the kitchen. "I think I remember where the mugs ended up. And we'd never hear the end of it from our parents if we just didn't show up today."
Nancy perched on the arm of the recliner, shaking her head. "Okay, if we ever have children, let's not put them through this," she said. "I mean, yeah, I'll want to be there, but if they knew how miserable we are..."
She heard the low drone of the microwave before Ned walked back into their living room. "You're miserable?"
She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture, trying to find the right words, then gave up with a sigh. "You know what I mean," she said, looking up into his eyes. "I'm exhausted and I feel like... today is for other people. Not us."
He shrugged, then moved behind her and started rubbing her shoulders. "Well, about five minutes of it is for us," he said. "The rest of it, yeah. Tradition and ceremony and other people. I'm probably as sick of this as you are, but if that's what it takes for us to get to those five minutes, when we say our vows to each other, then it's worth it."
She glanced down at her engagement ring and then up into his eyes, the view upside-down from her perspective, and he smiled. "Yeah, I know," he murmured.
As far as Nancy was concerned, their vows had been spoken. Ned had asked if she would spend the rest of her life with him. She had said yes. That was it. Their relationship had been building toward it before that moment, but ever since then, her commitment hadn't wavered, not even a little.
"I love you," she said.
Ned leaned down and kissed her cheek, both of them startling when the microwave chirped. "Love you too," he said.
She didn't even want the tea, not really; she needed to get back home, but she really didn't want to. So much. The enormity of it was overwhelming. Here, at least, she could almost pretend that it was already done and she didn't have to worry about it anymore.
So when Ned returned with a mug of tea, prepared just the way she liked it—Ned generally didn't drink tea, but he paid attention to Nancy and what she liked and didn't—Nancy accepted it with a smile, warmed by what it meant even if she didn't need it. "Heading home soon?" she asked, pursing her lips and blowing over the top of the steaming liquid.
He paused for a beat, then smiled. "I am home," he pointed out. "We are home."
Nancy grinned. She liked the sound of that. "Yeah," she agreed. "It's just that no one else knows it yet."
Ned shrugged and settled back, his arms spread over the back of the couch as he blew out a long breath. "Y'know, I kinda wish that we had moved in together. After we were engaged," he hastened to add.
She raised an eyebrow, tentatively trying a sip.
"It's just... nice. To be here, just the two of us."
Nancy nodded. Of course they had spent nights in each other's arms, but at hotels during cases, at their parents' homes when they were there alone, a few times at Emerson. The spaces weren't really theirs. They had always been aware of the time running out, the press of other people. Here, the silence wasn't its own hourglass.
Then their gazes caught, and Nancy's heart skipped a beat. Ned's little joke aside, they hadn't intentionally decided to wait until their wedding night to sleep together again, but between all the plans, her cases, moving into this place, they hadn't been able to steal any time to be together in... two months, she was pretty sure. In less than twenty-four hours, they'd be "legal," whatever that meant. As though anything that had happened between them before now somehow wasn't.
She and Ned hadn't slept together until they were engaged. With the vow made, in a way, Nancy had already experienced her wedding night. A preview of it, anyway.
But now, here, like this... the tension squeezed her heart again, and even when she shifted her gaze and blew on her tea before taking another small sip, her sudden hyperawareness of him didn't dissipate. And Ned's gaze didn't waver, either. She could still feel it on her, on the tank top and loose pants she had pulled on for what she'd meant to be a midnight drive-by to help clear her mind. Her toenails were glossy and freshly trimmed, peeping above the strap of her slides; Bess had insisted that they all go for their manicures and pedicures the day before the wedding, just to make sure there was time for everything else the day of: unimaginably long salon appointments to make sure Nancy's hair and that of her bridesmaids was immaculate, photographs before and after the ceremony, last-minute checks with the florist and caterer...
Nancy exhaled the weight again, looking over at Ned, her lips parted. The tea had reached the perfect temperature, and she drained the mug, placing it carefully on the coffee table. Its surface was cluttered with a dozen items they needed to put away: a pack of playing cards, batteries, two flashlights.
Ned was still gazing at her, and something in his eyes had shifted. Something that made her heart flutter.
They rose as one, closing the short distance between them in a breath, and then she was wrapped in his arms and clinging to him in return. Nancy kissed him with a desperation she hadn't felt in a long time, and he returned it just as eagerly, gently sliding the elastic out of her hair so it fell in a sleek curtain of reddish-gold down past her shoulders, longer than she usually wore it. Another suggestion from Bess, since she had more options for her headpiece and hairstyle that way.
And right now, Nancy didn't give a damn. She loved it because Ned did; she loved when he buried his hands in the silk of it, holding her to him.
His palm brushed against her breast, then settled over it.
We should stop. The thought was so quick that the words blurred together into one, and so timid that it barely registered.
He dropped his hand and she drew in a breath to moan in disappointment, but then he boosted her in his arms and she drew her legs up to wrap them around his waist, laughing in delight. Her lips found his earlobe and neck, her tongue flicking against his skin, as he carried her to what was, as of today, their bedroom.
Hours separated her from officially being called his wife. Not weeks, not days, hours. And shutting down that insistent countdown in her head for a while, just letting herself relax and enjoy being with the man she loved... that was more than wonderful. She needed this. After the relentless litany of deadlines, checklists, and traditions, she hadn't been able to connect to Ned like this, to remember what all of it was for.
The bed was made with smooth, clean sheets and their comforter, she registered dimly, relieved. Then she heard the dull thunk of shoes against carpet and Ned was on top of her, and she kicked off her own sandals and wrapped around him. His shirt had come off somewhere along the way, and his back was warm and firm under the stroke of her palms. They both moaned as he tugged her shirt up.
And there were no words; between them, there didn't have to be, not anymore. Ned had never dangled this before her as a way to prove her love to him, a requirement for taking their relationship to some incremental next level. Once she had accepted his proposal, it had been a decision they had made together. She had been glad the entire time that he was her partner in this, that she wasn't plagued by doubt or indecision, that he was eager and patient and... everything. Oh, when they were like this, he was everything.
They kissed again, long and deep, his hands still roaming over her. He cupped her hips and they both panted, on fire for each other. "It's been so long I barely remember what to do," he joked.
"Just do what feels good."
He smiled, his gaze softening, then leaned down and nuzzled against her neck. He had said those words to her their first time, although it hadn't done any good; she had still been completely lost, comfortable only in following his lead. "Mine," he murmured against her skin.
"Mine," she replied, stroking her palm down his back.
By the time they parted, her exhaustion and the tea had her nestling against him, her eyes closing. Ned moaned quietly. "Guess we should..." he began, but his voice was soft, and soon they were both fast asleep.
Pounding. Distant pounding. Ned groaned under his breath and shifted just enough to feel Nancy's warm, bare skin under his fingertips, his eyes still closed against the sun. They had slept nestled together until the warmth of their body heat under the covers had been too much. Now, only the sheet covered them, and he was spooned up behind her, breathing in the faintly sweet and herbal scent of her hair.
Someone was calling out something.
And then he heard a scraping sound, the front door opening.
Ned opened his eyes, sitting up and turning to face the bedroom doorway, his mouth dry as he dragged his hand through his hair. He blinked a few times, scanning the space for a potential weapon to fend off an intruder, but the bedroom wasn't outfitted that way. The few boxes left in the corner to unpack contained only linens and towels. His phone was... probably on the coffee table in the living room, near Nancy's purse, so no calling for help. Maybe he could use the lamp...
Hannah Gruen walked into the bedroom, stifling laughter, and Ned slumped against the headboard. He glanced at the bedside table—
"Shit," he muttered, before Hannah could say anything.
She nodded, her eyes dancing. He belatedly registered that she had a cell phone in her hand, at her ear. "Yep... yes, everything's fine. She'll be there soon."
Then Hannah put the phone in her pocket and pinned Ned with an accusing look, one eyebrow cocked.
Ned coughed and gave her a sheepish smile. "Uh," he began.
Hannah shook her head. "You two had some last-minute things to talk about this morning before the breakfast, which started twenty minutes ago," she suggested. "You just lost track of time. I'd suggest that you shower together if I didn't think that would make you an hour later."
"So 'we fell asleep watching a movie' won't cut it, huh," he joked weakly.
Hannah smirked. "Honey, this is advanced level—and it's not gonna fool anyone. I'm just trying to save you from Carson's wrath."
"I appreciate it. Thanks, Hannah."
Nancy jerked awake with a sound between a snort and a gasp, "Wha—" she began, sitting up, and Ned turned to her just in time to see her register Hannah's presence. A flush immediately washed over her face, and she clutched the sheet to her bare chest.
Hannah clasped her hands. "So did you consider that when we found your bed empty this morning, we might send out search parties?"
Nancy groaned. "I'm so sorry," she began.
Hannah took another step into the room. "That after years of finding out you'd been kidnapped, stranded, locked up... we might freak out a little?"
Nancy covered her face. "I never meant to..."
A smile was playing with the corners of Hannah's lips. "Let's just say I had a hunch about where you might be... and that you owe me one."
Nancy nodded. Her face was still red as she flashed Hannah a grateful smile. "Definitely. Thank you."
Hannah nodded, then met Ned's gaze one more time before turning around, closing the bedroom door behind her as she left.
After a few heartbeats, Nancy groaned and flopped backward onto the pillow. "Shit."
"Yep." Ned glanced at the bedside table again, noting the time on the alarm clock. "We might be able to grab a muffin from the breakfast if we hurry."
Nancy released a panicked cry. "What? Fuck," she snarled, whipping the sheets back and scrambling out of bed.
"You have the left side of the dresser," Ned told her, trying to be helpful. Nancy was still blushing as she darted a glance in his direction. "We really should shower."
Nancy groaned, hastily going through her lingerie. "At least I don't have to wash my hair. Oh my God. I can't believe we overslept."
Ned slid out of bed and took her hand. She pressed her lips together, gazing up at him as he brushed his lips against her cheek.
"And nothing's gonna start without us," he pointed out. "We'll be there for the five minutes that matter, I guarantee you."
Slowly she relaxed a little, and nodded, kissing him in return. "Yeah," she murmured. "Love you."
He smiled and gave her hand a squeeze. "Love you too."