I'm sailing right behind

Josh kisses my neck and I sigh happily, leaning against the soft seat of the limo. He's been all over me since we left our reception and I'm not complaining. This is the first time we've been really alone since some point yesterday…no, before that, really. We've had so much going on the last few days and there have been so many people coming and going, that it's been madness.

Now, though, it's just the two of us, getting chauffeured around DC on our way home. Josh balked at the suggestion, feeling we see the city enough and he didn't want to delay getting home, but in my first true act as his wife, I overruled him. True, it's been hours since we've been at our apartment and hours since we got to sit down and relax, but the trip from the White House to home is so short that I kind of liked the idea of seeing the city at night in the snow. Of course, since Josh has been determined to kiss me in every way possible since we got in the car, I haven't seen much of the sights.

We're just going home tonight; everyone suggested that we get a hotel for the evening to make it all feel more special, but that's not what either of us wanted. Being at home in our bed is the only special we need. It's not as if we're leaving for our honeymoon tomorrow, either. That's not until Monday. We thought since so much of our family and friends would still be in the area, it'd be nice to spend some time with them before they all scattered. However, with the way Josh is pressing his body into mine, I'm starting to regret that decision.

"I love you," he whispers, making my insides melt like butter. He makes a frustrated noise a few seconds later. "How many damn layers does this dress have?!"

I laugh, shoving at him playfully. "And just what are you trying to do?"

"I'm trying to feel up my wife!"

I laugh even harder at that. "You can wait until we get home, stud."

He lifts his head, looking terribly woebegone. "I don't wanna."

I cup his face and pull him toward me, giving him a quick kiss. "We have the rest of our lives for you to grope me. We should be home any second now."

Almost on cue, the limo rolls to a stop. After two years, it's become a habit to wait for Josh's detail to open car doors for us, and today has been no exception. My dress is voluminous enough that I really need someone to guide me out anyway so I don't fall on my face. Still I turn to face the window in anticipation; Josh will no doubt insist on almost climbing over me to be the first one out of the car so he can be the one to help me out, and will probably injure us both in the process, but at least he's kissing the back of my neck while we wait.

"Uhhh…where are we?"

"Huh?" he answers distractedly.

I shrug my shoulders, trying to dislodge him. "This isn't our apartment."

His face appears next to mine, squinting out at the building before us. "That's not home."

I roll my eyes—my husband the genius. "No kidding. This looks like the place we ate the night we got engaged."

"Yeah, I think it is that place. But what are we doing here?"

The door opens and Gus appears before us, gesturing for us to get out. Tentatively, Josh does in fact step over me to get out first, but he stands in front of the limo door, blocking my exit—just in case, I guess. I angle my head so I can see over his shoulder. "What's going on?"

The corner of Gus's mouth twitches, probably as close to a smile as we've ever seen. "Nothing untoward, I promise." He gestures at Josh again, who finally steps out of the way and reaches for my hand to help me out of the car. Alex is standing in the doorway, grinning at us. Obviously, something is afoot. The restaurant is dim, which is unusual for a Saturday night, but there doesn't seem to be anyone hiding in the dark. We're led through the kitchen, flanked by members of Josh's—and mine, too, now—detail until we reach a service elevator in the back. Troy's already inside, looking as stoic as ever; Alex follows us in and Gus stays in the kitchen, assuming his usual position as the elevator doors close.

"So, uh…what's going on?" Josh asks, looking a little nervous and somehow trying to keep his body between me and everything else, as if he could take down trained, armed security guards if they decided to go rogue.

"Just a pit stop before we take you home, sir," Troy answers, his face giving nothing away. "It's completely sanctioned, I promise."

Josh glances at me, his forehead furrowed. He looks fairly concerned, which isn't at all reassuring. If this was a TV show or a soap opera, this would definitely be the moment we were kidnapped. I think it's actually a rule—two people take forever to get together and the second they get married, something huge and tragic happens to disrupt their happiness.

This train of thought isn't terribly reassuring, either.

I squeeze Josh's hand, trying not to let the nerves in my stomach overwhelm me. This is fine. I'm sure it's fine. I'm sure most couples are hijacked by a security detail after their wedding. No big deal.

The elevator clangs to a stop. Alex pulls open the door and my mouth drops open. We step on the roof to thunderous applause and cheering, the faces of our friends and family smiling back at us. Tiny white lights are strung on every available surface, making everything glow. I look up, finding strips of gauzy material, giving us a makeshift roof.

"What is this?" I finally manage to ask, looking over at Josh. He looks just as shocked as I feel. CJ and Sam make their way to us, smiling broadly. "I'm…confused."

"We wanted to do something for the two of you," Sam explains. "Since you didn't have an engagement party, or even something resembling bachelor or bachelorette parties—nor did you seem to want either of them—"

"Things that fall under the purview of maid of honor and best man, by the way," CJ adds.

"And we knew that a White House ceremony and reception would be perfectly lovely—"

"We also knew you were giving up a lot to have a White House wedding, no matter how nice it would be," Annabeth says, appearing almost out of nowhere.

"So, we started brainstorming," CJ says. "We did some reconnaissance, asked some questions. It helped that neither of you suspected anything out of the ordinary so you were very loose-lipped about a lot of details, including where you ate the night you got engaged, or how you both wouldn't have minded having a more relaxed wedding reception."

"I was the muscle," Lou adds, trying her hardest to look like she's not enjoying herself too much. "I had to convince the owners to let us use their place for the night. They were pretty reasonable, considering."

"Don't look at me," Toby says, his hands in his pockets. "I wanted nothing to do with this."

"Except it was mostly his idea," Annabeth whispers loudly. "I think he wanted another party."

Toby's cheek twitches but he says nothing, which is all the answer I need.

I look around us in wonder, twisting every way I can while never letting go of Josh's hand. This is amazing. A good portion of our guests are actually here—minus most of the people we invited simply because our wedding was at the White House and it was inevitable that it became a bit of a thing—a couple of long tables are set up and filled with food, making my stomach rumble in response, and a bunch of tables and chairs are scattered around for people to visit each other. I see a sound system set up in a corner, as well as speakers propped up in various locations.

"I didn't know they could do this," Josh breathes. "Private parties, I mean."

"Well, they don't, normally," Sam agrees. "But we asked nicely. We told them this is your favorite spot and about your engagement after having dinner here and they were very kind. The only downside is that the Secret Service didn't think this was secure enough for the Santos' or the Bartlets, even if we did this in the main restaurant—and that would have been jam-packed—but especially not up here. This was the best there was, security-wise, and we know you like this place."

"We all wanted to do something for you," my new mother-in-law chimes in, sliding her arm around CJ's waist. "You hardly let your own parents help with anything and I don't know about your parents, Donna, but I've been saving for my son's wedding for a very long time." The crowd around us laughs, and Josh makes a face at his mother for the comment. "This is a big deal and we wanted to be able to celebrate. I know you two were ready to go home, but we hope you don't mind spending just a bit more time with us."

Josh releases my hand and pulls me into his side, squeezing my shoulders. "How can we say no to that?"

"You can't," CJ answers, steering us toward the center of the roof. I'm surprised to find that it's actually kind of warm despite the fact that there are no walls, but I eventually spot some heaters that have been set up around the space in a nod to the winter weather. "You'll be happy to know that we didn't hire a caterer—we just had the leftover hors d'oeuvres packed up from the first reception. The cake is here, too. We thought you'd be hungry, and you know how dancing drunk people get."

"So," Sam says, "without further ado, we give you The After Party."

Music starts up and though it has no special meaning for us, I recognize the song and it's definitely appropriate—Kiss Me. It feels like a song that goes with twinkle lights. Josh pulls me into the middle of what seems to be the dance floor, wrapping me in his arms.

"You really had no idea about this?" I whisper as we move to the music.

"I really had no idea," he answers. "My plans for the evening involved getting you home and naked so we could enjoy some legally sanctioned sex. This really puts a cramp in all that."

"That sounds so romantic," I tease.

"It was gonna be," he grumbles, but I can tell his heart isn't in it—he's just as amazed at this second reception as I am. It's so sweet that our friends went to this kind of trouble for us. They aren't wrong, either; our wedding was spectacular and the reception was beautiful, but I know we mentioned a few times over the last several months about some of the things we would miss by not having a smaller affair. We were happy to make the concessions to have a more secure wedding that everyone could attend; we knew we couldn't have certain things like a DJ and that we'd have to have it catered by a designated company and that meals would have to be served instead of a more help yourself sort of thing, and that there'd be a certain degree of formality to the whole thing because a lot of ambassadors and officials and such were invited to our wedding—another price we had to pay for a White House wedding for someone as high-ranking as Josh, and even more so when the current President and the former President were so heavily involved. We knew all that going into it. We knew having our wedding someplace like that meant it had to be a certain way. I like to think we didn't gripe too much about it, though I do remember conversations with my bridesmaids and our moms and such and frequently having to say things like "We can't do that" during the planning phase.

There's also the fact that we wouldn't let our friends buy us wedding presents. We have more than enough stuff already. We never had a registry or anything—just places to donate in lieu of gifts. It was enough to have our friends and family with us to celebrate. So something like this—something they planned together, something so fun and personal—means a lot.

It does mean putting off sex for a few more hours, but Josh'll live. I guess I will, too.

As promised, here's the link to Donna's dress. I'm torn on the color—as is in the picture, or more white? Either way, this is the one that speaks to me. Of course, the link doesn't work here, the website is wisebridal followed by dot com. Then backslash 3172 dot html. See if that works.