J

Whoever said that weddings are the start of happiness, obviously didn't drunkenly marry their best friend's sister in Vegas.

"Is that her?" Rosé asks as my phone dings for the hundredth time.

I sigh and push my salad around my plate, my appetite completely gone.

"Yes," I admit. There's no point in denying it. Lisa hasn't let up since she chased me home from Vegas.

"Why are you fighting this so hard?"

That's the same damned question I've asked myself a dozen times a day. The answer is always the same: I don't know. That's not entirely true. The truth is, I'm still scared and don't know how to get over that fear. Despite the fact that Lisa gave me a really shitty excuse for why she stood me up all those years ago, it's actually much better than if she had done it to be malicious. But…

"I just don't trust her."

Four weeks ago, those words were spoken with complete conviction. Now? They don't ring true, not even a little. Lisa has done everything to make me feel comfortable. Every hoop I've made her jump through has been met with understanding and not one ounce of annoyance. It's like the woman has an unending amount of patience when it comes to proving hetself. I set the boundaries, and she toes the line. Never once pushing me.

The thing is… I need a push. Hell, I need a shove. I'm so scared of making the wrong choice that I'm stuck making no choice at all.

My phone dings again and I cringe. Last night was everything I could have asked for and then some but in the light of the day… all my doubts came rolling back, and I panicked. Again. Had I not woken up tangled around her in my own bed, I would have run, but we were at my place, and there was no way out.

I pasted on a smile and did my best to not show my inner freak out, but with the way she's been reaching out to me… I'd say I failed pretty badly at acting normal. So, now I'm avoiding.

Rosé snatches my purse, digging through it until she grasps my phone.

"Jen. Thirty-seven notifications?"

She looks appalled and I almost think she's upset on my behalf, but then she shoves the phone at me.

"This is fucking ridiculous. I'm done playing the supportive bestie. I won't sit back and watch you sabotage your own happily ever after. That's what this is all about, right?" she looks at me imploringly. When I say nothing, she shakes her head, her disappointment evident. "Look, I love you, but you need to sort your shit. The future you've always wanted is right there, waiting for you." She points at my phone. "She might not be your Prince Charming or a knight in shining armor, but she is your happily ever after. You know I'm right."

Tears well up in my eyes and I nod. She's right.

"What if things don't work out?" I ask, verbalizing my fear.

Rosé grips my hand from across the table, squeezing firmly.

"Jennie, there are no guarantees in life, but there are plenty of regrets to be had. That woman loves you. And love is worth the risk."

"But…"

"But nothing. You can but this to the ends of the earth and it won't change a thing. She loves you, and you love her, and that is all that matters. Leave the past in the past. It's time to forgive her."

I leave our lunch feeling raw and vulnerable. I'm scared out of my mind, but Rosé is right. I am in love with Lisa. I just need to find my lady balls and admit my feelings to her. Keeping her at arm's length isn't working. Eventually, her patience is going to run out, and I'll be alone. Not just alone, I'll be a divorcée, which is the worst thing I can imagine considering the only thing I've ever wanted is to be a wife.

I decide it's now or never.

I take a deep breath and push through the doors to Lisa's office building. I remember the first time I was here a couple of weeks ago and how in awe I was at the luxury of it all, but now I walk through the space with unseeing eyes. I check in with security and am glad that Lisa put me on the guest list. They won't have to call ahead and verify that I have an appointment, which means if I chicken out between here and her office, she'll never know I was here.

The elevator seems to crawl as it ascends giving me ample time to freak myself out over what I'm about to do. When the doors finally slide open, I'm halfway to hyperventilating.

I can do this.

I can do this.

Maybe if I repeat it enough, it'll stick. Wiping my sweaty palms on my skirt, I step out of the elevator and take my first step toward my future. Butterflies fill my stomach as I make my way down the quiet hallway. When I get to her office, I'm shocked to find her bulldog of an assistant isn't at her desk. I breathe a sigh of relief that she's not here… I don't think I could confess my feelings with an audience.

My phone vibrates in my purse, and even though I've been ignoring it all day, I decide to answer. Hoping against hope that hearing her voice will bolster my failing confidence.

"Hello?"

Her sigh of relief sends goosebumps down my spine. It's as if she's breathing for the first time at just the sound of my voice. That simple sound calms the riotous feelings that have been brewing in my gut.

"Sweetheart," She says, her voice is pained. "Please don't shut me out."

I swallow thickly, not able to find the words I want to say. I want to alleviate her concern, but my brain and heart can't seem to get it together and give me the words that will make it all right.

"Tell me I didn't fuck everything up."

My heart melts. I might not have my own words, but I can give her this.

"You didn't fuck everything up."

She blows out a breath and I can imagine her on the other side of the door relaxing into her chair like the weight of the world was just lifted from her shoulders.

"We need to talk," I say, my shaky voice betraying my nervousness.

"Okay…" she says hesitantly.

"But not on the phone. I need to see you."

"Tell me where you are, and I'll come to you."

I chew on my lip, nerves making me stupidly silent again.

"You could just open your door," I finally say.

I hear her office chair squeak, and then the soft padding of her feet as she crosses the room, and then I'm face to face with the woman I love—my wife. All of my nervousness evaporates into thin air.

Lisa's gaze roves over me, concern etching her brow. I could kick my own ass for making such a strong, confident woman doubt herself so thoroughly.

"Jen—" she starts, but before she can finish whatever it was she was about to say—probably another apology—I throw myself at her.

My arms wrap around her shoulders, and my lips crash into hers. After a single heartbeat, Her mouth returns my fervor. Her hands grip me around the waist and lift me until I can circle my legs around her body. Her shoulders flex beneath my hands and a tiny thrill of excitement courses through my body at her strength.

I'm so focused on kissing her that I hardly notice the fact that she's carrying me across the room. One of her hands leaves my body followed by a loud crash as everything that was on her desk hits the floor. She lays me out on her desk, her lips never parting from mine. Not when she rips my panties from my body. Not when she frees her cock from her pants. Not when she thrusts into me in one long push.

My nails score down her back, and I instantly hate the layers of clothing between us. I shove her suit jacket off her shoulders and blindly work the buttons on her shirt. I grow frustrated when I can't manage to work the tiny buttons while she's roughly pounding into me. Fucking me into delirium.

Fuck this, I think to myself as my frustration mounts. I need her skin on mine. I grip the two sides of her shirt and rip it open sending the annoying buttons flying. Ha! Take that you stupid buttons. That'll teach you for keeping me from touching my woman.

Lisa growls in approval when I rake my nails down her chest. It's as if that tiny bite of pain sparks some inner beast because her thrusts become more powerful until she's fucking me so hard her desk moves. Each thrust she hits me so deep that there's a pinch of pain, but it's so fucking sweet that I'm begging for more. I can't get enough. I'm starved for her.

"Fuck…" she grunts, her lips leaving mind for the first time since I entered her office.

"Yes," I moan. "Fuck me."

Her fingers dig into the skin of my thighs so hard that I know I'll be bruised, but I don't care. I'll wear her marks with pride knowing that I drove her so crazy that she can't help herself.

"You're so fucking perfect," she says, punctuating each word with a thrust of her cock. "My perfect fucking wife."

Her thumb finds my clit and rubs it just the way I like. That's all it takes to have my orgasm bearing down on me like a freight train. My back arches as I scream out her name. My vision blurs as my pussy clenches down on her length. Lisa doesn't stop. She fucks me straight through one orgasm and into the next until I'm completely delirious from pleasure and I can no longer tell if it's one orgasm or a million.

She buries herself to the hilt and my eyes practically roll into my head as the heat from her release fills me. There is something so primal about how she makes love to me, and I hope it's always this way between us. I never want to lose the madness that consumes me every time we come together like this.

We both stay frozen in place, trying to catch our breath. Lisa is the first to move, but instead of getting up, she starts placing sweet kisses on my neck and jaw, slowly making her way to my lips where she languidly kisses me. Our hands roam over each other, not to arouse but to soothe. The moment is perfect.

I break our kiss and look into her eyes. "I love you," I say with complete and utter confidence. No longer do I doubt that we are perfect for each other. We still have a lot to learn about each other, and I don't doubt that we will have some bumps along the way but I love Lisa, and I am done running from her—from us.

I can tell I caught her off guard with my confession of love. I find her furrowed brow and not quite but almost frown adorable. I would laugh if my heart wasn't in my throat as I wait for her to say something. She closes her eyes for a second and when they open again, there is disbelief written in them.

"Say it again."

"I love you, Lisa."

She kisses me then, long and deep, putting every ounce of love I know she feels for me into the kiss. I answer back with tenderness and acceptance. I'm ready to be hers in all ways. She gently cups my face with her hands and my eyes prick with emotion.

"I thought you wanted to talk?" She asks with a smirk.

"I think we communicated pretty well myself." I rotate my hips and squeeze her half hard cock that is still buried inside me.

"Hmm… I suppose we did," she concedes, as her cock hardens.

This time, she makes sweet love to me. It's not the frantic coupling of before. She's telling me with her body that she loves and cherishes me. That I am hers and she is mine. When we are both sated and replete, she carries me to the couch and sits, holding me on her lap. I snuggle into her, content.

"What happens next?" I ask.

"We live happily ever after, of course."

THE END