Slowly, bit by bit, my eyes open. Everything is dim, sort of gray and hazy, but daylight is seeping around the curtains. My head is fuzzy—not fuzzy like I had too much to drink or am still drunk, but definitely fuzzy. I feel like I've been run over.

I feel a weight across my stomach and it only takes me another moment to realize it's Josh's arm thrown across me in his sleep and now deadweight. I lift my head a little, going to grab his arm so I can readjust it and blink in surprise. I'm in my wedding dress.

I chuckle to myself; I did get married yesterday, didn't I? It was pretty amazing, if memory serves.

I pause and lift my head a little more, blinking a few more times. I'm still in my wedding dress? I look more closely at Josh, and he's definitely wearing his tuxedo, or at least most of it.

My head drops back to my pillow. I try to figure it all out, but I only barely remember us getting home last night—or rather, early this morning. It was after two, I remember that much. Our second reception was still going strong when we left, and I remember being so exhausted that I could hardly remain upright. Despite how amorous he was feeling earlier in the evening, Josh looked pretty dead on his feet, too.

Now that some of the fog is starting to clear, I remember sitting down on our bed to finally take off my shoes—and I wiggle my toes just to verify—and…that's all I remember. I trace my fingers over Josh's palm, smiling to myself when it twitches. It looks like we both sat down last night and fell over backwards as we passed out. Talk about one hell of a wedding night.

Then again, this seems to be a running theme, at least amongst people I know. I remember CJ saying she and Danny fell asleep almost as soon as they got back to their hotel room after their wedding. I'm pretty sure Sam said something similar happened to him and his wife Haley. Planning a wedding is fairly exhausting. Honestly, it's more than a little amusing that so many people who've spend so much time working at the White House, sometimes hardly pausing to go home, getting four or five hours of sleep a night for weeks at a time, have all been taken down by their own weddings.

Or, maybe it's not amusing at all. Maybe I'm still exhausted and loopy and have no ability to think straight.

I tickle Josh's palm again and turn to check the time, my eyes going wide when I see that it's almost nine. I honestly don't remember the last time I slept this late. I'd be willing to bet it's been even longer for Josh. Needed or not, it feels weird. I feel like I've lost part of my day. Not to mention that we have a brunch gathering with our families and friends and any other long-distance people still in town at eleven. That means our parents will be here at in an hour and a half at the latest; we both need to shower before they get here, and it's going to take me forever to get out of this gown, even with Josh helping me.

"Josh?" I pause when my voice comes out as a croak, clearing the sleep from my throat. "Wake up." I nudge him with my shoulder, my only answer a snore. I roll my eyes and shift myself up onto my elbow. "C'mon, honey, time to get up." He smacks his lips a couple of times before he lets out another snore. "My super sexy husband," I whisper. Finally, I reach up and flick his nose, not even bothering to contain my laughter as he sputters and jerks halfway to a seated position.

"Whasgoinon?" he mumbles, blinking sleepily, his head swiveling in a million different directions before he lands on me. "Are you all right?"

I just shake my head and roll my eyes, still laughing. "Josh."

He blinks at me a few times, still obviously confused. "What's happening right now?"

"It's time to wake up."

He cocks his head at me and flops back to the bed, sighing. "Nah," he answers, turning onto his side and pulling a pillow over his head.

I grab the pillow from him before he can get settled and give him a gentle whack with it. "It's nine in the morning; it's time to get up."

He scowls at me for a few long moments before his eyes grow wide, looking over at the alarm clock for verification. "How the hell did we sleep so late?"

I pause for a few moments, waiting to see if the wedding clothes register, but he seems fairly out of it. "We need to get moving. It won't be long before our parents are here."

His expression softens and he props himself up on his elbow. "Good morning, wife."

"Good morning, husband."

He scoots toward me, wrapping his arm around my waist as he presses his lips to mine. I can tell he's still partially asleep by the way he kisses me, his mouth moving leisurely against mine. It's not hard to get swept away in it. Knowing that I'm kissing my husband is a very heady experience.

He pulls back suddenly, his brow furrowed. "Why are you still in your wedding dress?"

"Probably the same reason you're still in your tux."

He looks down at himself, patting his clothes in disbelief. "Why am I still in my tux?"

I sigh; he really can be a little oblivious at times. "Well, I don't remember much about getting home last night, but I know I was exhausted."

"We didn't even have sex on our wedding night?"

I bite my lip to keep from laughing—he looks so crestfallen. "It seems not."

He flops onto his back, frowning. "Wow. Some husband I am."

"We have our whole lives to have sex, Josh. I'm not worried about one night."

"Yeah, but isn't the wedding night…you know, important?"

I maneuver myself closer to him, or at least as close as I can around my dress. "I think it was fifty years ago, when it was their first time sleeping together ever. I conquered that beast a long time ago."

He waggles his eyebrows suggestively and flips us over suddenly—a lot faster than I would have anticipated, considering he still seems half asleep—landing on top of me. "Well, we can have celebratory sex now, right? Consummate this whole thing?" Before I can answer, he kisses me and I get lost in it. It would be so easy to forget the outside world. I could just stay in bed all day with my husband.

With a sigh, I push at his shoulders, trying to get some space. "Babe, we can't."

He huffs a little, chasing after my lips. "Donna!"

I push at him again and he slides off me, looking none too thrilled. "Honey, we have to meet everyone in less than two hours."

"Two hours? I like to think I have decent staying power, but even I don't need two hours."

I chuckle a little, readjusting my head on my pillow. "We both have to get cleaned up, and it's probably going to take at least half an hour to get me out of this dress, and I'm going to need your help with it. Not to mention that you know our parents will be here sooner than that."

"But…"

"Josh, the first time we have married sex, I don't want it to be rushed. Ideally, I'd like none of the times we have sex to be rushed, but especially not now." His face softens a bit, and I know he knows I'm right. "And I really don't want to have to get up and do stuff after. I want to lie around in a post-coital haze without wondering if my parents are going to start knocking on our door. Everyone will be gone by this afternoon and we don't leave for our honeymoon until tomorrow morning." I press myself against him, wrapping my arm around his waist. "We'll make love, then order in dinner, and do it again. Just you and me. No friends, no family, no deadlines, no phone calls, just the two of us doing whatever the hell we want."

He groans and presses his lips to mine, kissing me slowly. When he pulls back, his pupils are dilated and he's breathing heavily. "Why did we decide to travel for our honeymoon? We could have just stayed here and not wasted any time on a plane."

I smile, kissing him again. "Because leaving the country is the only way to mostly guarantee that we won't be disturbed. If I had thought for a second that we could stay here and be left alone, I would have been all for it."

He makes a noise but I can tell he agrees; if people know he's nearby, they have a difficult time leaving him be. Our rare free weekends are always interrupted to some degree, if nothing else by someone calling to ask a few questions. Those I can handle; it's when someone drops by with a bunch of paperwork or something that they believe absolutely cannot wait until Monday and definitely can't be handled by someone else that it starts to get tedious. Usually, if there's something that Josh absolutely needs to handle, he gets a call from the White House; President Santos, Sam, security, someone like that. They don't drop by. The people that have shown up at our door are usually met with an ass-chewing when Josh finds out the problem wasn't actually a problem, didn't need to be handled by him, and definitely could have waited until he was back in the office. When Josh reaches the boiling point, it's almost always because three or four people have already come over with the same situation. He's been trying his hardest to delegate to others—and I know that was really hard for him—and use the people he brought on board to the best of their abilities, but I suppose it's a learning curve. Still, that's all the more reason to get away when we can, especially for our honeymoon. If we'd decided to stay home and someone knocked on our door for anything less than a matter of national security, I don't think I could be held responsible for my actions.

He settles in to kiss me again, his hand sliding up my neck and into my hair. Without being prompted, he starts fishing for the pins that are still somehow keeping my hair in place, pulling them out one by one. It takes him only a few minutes to find them all and he massages my scalp afterward, making me all but purr. He's making it very tough to stick to my guns; who wants to get up and shower and get ready for the day when I could just lie here with my husband, kissing each other endlessly?

With a groan I push him away again, breathing heavily. He groans, too, but he nods, knowing what I'm trying to say without having to hear the words. He turns over to his nightstand for a few moments before flipping back over triumphantly, holding up our camera. I prop myself up on my elbow, looking at him curiously. "Why isn't that packed? And more importantly, why is over there?"

Josh just grins, settling onto his back once more. He snakes an arm under me, pulling me close. "I wanted to bring the camera with us to brunch today so I unpacked it before the wedding. I figured we wouldn't have any of our fancy-ass photographers with us so we might want to document it all somehow. I left it on my nightstand so I'd have a shot of actually remembering the thing." He holds his arm out, pointing the camera at us. "Smile!"

I immediately bury my face in his neck, shaking my head. "Josh! I probably look like a raccoon! You can't take a picture of me like this!"

"Donna, you look amazing. You always look amazing, and I don't think your makeup has budged since you walked down the aisle."

I peek up at him, somehow not surprised to find him gazing down at me. "Really?"

"Donna," he whines, rocking me back and forth a little. "Yes. Take a picture with me! It's our first picture as husband and wife."

I snort, lifting my face so I can situate it next to his—I'll just have to take his word about the raccoon part. "Not hardly. Are you forgetting the hundreds of pictures we took last night?"

"This is different. That was bride and groom stuff but this—waking up together in our bed the day after our wedding—is all about being husband and wife."

"I think your logic is flawed but I appreciate the sentiment."

"Whatever, just smile."

As if I have to be told to smile right now. I don't think I've stopped smiling since yesterday. I'm pretty sure Josh hasn't, either. He snaps the camera incessantly, taking a million pictures, and I feel such a wave of contentment wash over me. This really feels like it was meant to be. Maybe a lot of people saw this coming a very long time ago; maybe most people saw this coming a long time ago, if the toasts we've received over the last few days are any indication, but I didn't. I knew I wanted this to happen. I've known from almost the beginning that I wanted to be with Josh in some capacity but I had no idea that I'd wind up here.

Well, maybe over the last few years I had some sort of inkling, but before we hooked up on Election Night, it was all just wishful thinking, and no matter how much you know you want something, you sort of hold your breath until it happens.

I turn my head a little, looking at his profile. He looks so happy it makes my heart stutter. The dimple in his cheek is deep, there are little lines at the corner of his eye that only show up when he smiles, and I love him more in this moment than I have ever before.

"Being with you is better than anything I could have imagined," I whisper, my voice choked.

He whips his head toward me, his eyes wide. "What?" he asks, his voice soft.

I smile, feeling tears fill my eyes. "Being with you is better than anything I could have imagined," I repeat. "Every part of it. Working with you all those years, becoming your friend, knowing I could lean on you when I needed to, it was all amazing, but nothing has been better than the last couple of years. Getting to be in love with my best friend is beyond amazing. I'm so happy that we're married because I can't wait to see what comes next."

He turns onto his side, wrapping his arm over my waist, the camera forgotten somewhere on the bed. His eyes are wet, too, but he's smiling broadly. "I love you beyond words. Everything you just said goes double for me. We're going to have an amazing life. People are gonna write stories about us."

I snicker, pressing myself into him. "I doubt that, honey."

"They will!" he insists. "They're gonna erect monuments to our relationship. We're gonna be the standard to which all other relationships are held. People will wish they could love each other as much as we do. And we'll just get to sit around, being happy."

This man is silly, but I love his enthusiasm. Most people will not give a damn if we're happy or if our marriage is going well, but it's wonderfully sweet that he thinks it, even if it's just a result of marital bliss. I press a kiss to his neck, breathing him in. I get to have this unbridled enthusiasm for the rest of my life. It might be exhausting to anyone else, but Josh's genuine thirst for life is something that thrills me. I thrive on it. I don't know that he'd ever admit that he feels that way about life in general, but I've known him long enough to know that he's a big softy when it comes to the little things.

It can be our secret, though.

I let out a sigh and push myself away from him, rolling awkwardly off the bed. "We have to get going, Josh. I really would love nothing more than to lie here with you all day but…"

"Parents," he answers, pushing himself off the bed, too. "Families, friends, blah blah blah."

He's still grinning from ear to ear, so I know he's just kidding about the "blah blah blah" part.

"All of that," I answer, sweeping my hair over my shoulder and turning my back to him. "Help please."

He makes a little noise and I can feel him tugging at one of the many tiny buttons that have done such a nice job of keeping my dress in place for more than twenty hours.

"I swear," he mumbles, "this dress was designed by a sadist, someone who gets their rocks off by torturing brand new husbands on their wedding nights. If we'd been more awake when we got home last night, I would have torn all these buttons off." I turn my head, glaring at him as best I can. "I said what I said."

I chuckle a little but remain silent, happy that I have someone willing to help me in and out of ridiculous dresses for the rest of my life.

Final chapter/epilogue coming soon!