When Holly finally pulled her lips away from Roger's to catch her breath, she found herself sitting in his lap, his arms wrapped around her waist to keep her steady as the car turned and moved through the streets. He was looking at her with such tenderness and such amazement, and she was looking back at him the same way. "We're married," she said softly, in awe.
"We're married," Roger repeated just as softly. He was equally awestruck. Holly was his wife! He was Holly's husband! Those two thoughts were playing on a continuous loop in his head; he was still absorbing the reality that this long-held dream, this nearly thirty-year-old want, of his was now a fact.
She touched his face and shifted in his lap, feeling something in his pocket poke against her hip when she did. At least, she thought it was in his pocket. As much as she wanted him, Holly really didn't want to consummate their marriage in five minutes in the back of this limousine, and she knew Roger well enough to know that he was becoming aroused, but he wasn't completely aroused yet. "What's in your pocket?" she asked.
His smile was dazzling in the dim interior of the car. "Your wedding present," he replied.
"You got me a wedding present?" she asked, one hand flying to her heart.
"Yes," Roger replied. He carefully reached into his pants pocket and removed a small velvet box. She followed his gaze to the box in his palm, and when she saw the size and shape of the box, she had a good idea of what it contained. He continued, "I saw this when we were at The Galleria the other day, and it looked like it was made for your hand alone. I talked myself out of buying it then because I didn't want to scare you, but I went back to The Galleria when Michael and I were running errands today before the wedding, and...well, I know that you proposed to me, but I wanted to give you this."
Roger opened the box, and Holly's jaw dropped when she saw the round diamond solitaire on a platinum band that complemented the wedding rings she and Roger now wore winking up at her from its bed of black velvet. Holly was still staring at the ring when Roger spoke again. "I had it engraved. The jewelry store could do the engraving in an hour. I thought that was only for eyeglasses," he joked, "but the engraver didn't mess it up."
Holly began pushing buttons until she found the one that turned on the ceiling light. When the light was on, she looked at Roger questioningly, and when he dipped his chin in a nod, she pulled the ring from the box and tilted it until she could read what was engraved inside it, speaking the six words aloud: "'My Love, My Life, My Home.'"
"These are what you are to me," he said, and she met his gaze once more, tears of joy in her eyes, "and this ring is a symbol of my vow to you that I will never lose sight of that fact, and that I will honor and cherish you as my love, my life, and my home the best way that I know how forever." His fingertips brushed hers as he gently reached for the ring. "May I?" he asked.
She held up her left hand, palm down. "Please," she said.
Roger slipped the diamond ring on Holly's finger and it nested against her wedding band, a perfect fit in more ways than one. Holly cupped Roger's jaw in her palm and leaned in to kiss him again, but he leaned in first, slanting his mouth over hers and kissing her softly, gently. She reciprocated in kind.
They kissed until their driver knocked on the closed partition separating the front seat from the back seat and called loudly, "The Bayshore, sir, ma'am."
They broke the kiss, and Roger said, "Here we are."
"Yeah," Holly said, somewhat out of breath. She beamed at Roger. "I hope you got plenty of sleep last night, because I'm thinking we're not going to get much sleep tonight."
"Is that so?" Roger asked, beaming back at her. "Well, I am very well-rested and ready for anything."
Holly laughed, feeling giddy and happy and so jammed full of emotion.
Roger felt exactly the same: lighthearted, a happiness bubbling in his soul that he had never known he was capable of feeling, and very, very emotional. Plus he had those surprises waiting upstairs for Holly, for both of them.
He carefully moved her off his lap, then leaned across her to open the car door. "Are you ready?" he asked.
She was. She really was. She was ready for a life lived with Roger as husband and wife. And she knew that was really what he was asking.
"I am," she said. "Are you?"
"Yes," he replied, knowing that she was asking him the same thing he was asking her.
"Then let's go upstairs," she said.
The driver had gotten out and was standing by, looking a bit uncertain as to whether he should help the bride out of the car or not. She solved his dilemma for him by exiting the vehicle herself, with Roger right behind her.
The driver smiled at the sight of the couple so clearly in each other's thrall as they started to walk into The Bayshore's lobby hand in hand.
Then Holly stopped suddenly, causing Roger to jerk to a stop as well. She regarded the driver. "Thank you," she told him.
The driver touched the brim of his chauffeur's cap with two fingertips. "Congratulations," he said.
Then something else occurred to Holly. Bracing one hand on Roger's shoulder to balance herself, she removed her shoes, too happy to feel the cold pavement seeping through her stocking feet. With her shoes in one hand, she released Roger's shoulder and said, "Race you to the elevator." Then she was off, moving away from him quickly, throwing a playful look over her shoulder.
Laughing, Roger hurried after her, catching up with her about halfway to the elevator. He grabbed her hand, pulled her into his arms, picked her up, and swung her around. Holly was laughing now too, threading her fingers through Roger's hair when he set her on her feet once more.
The elevator doors opened then, and the newlyweds, oblivious to the smiles and looks they were getting from the smattering of guests and staff in the lobby, hurried inside. Behind his concierge desk, Ned grinned when he glimpsed them kissing as the elevator doors closed, bearing them away to the seventeenth floor.
Back at The Harbor Club, everyone had gone home except Michael and Donna. Michael sat, his tie untied and his collar open, nursing his champagne while he watched Donna ride herd on the staffers who had worked that night. Donna could be very demanding; no one knew that better than Michael. But one of the things he had always admired about her was that she knew her own mind and wasn't afraid to go after what she wanted, no matter what that was. At this stage of their lives, it was more amusing to him than anything else. Of course, she rarely turned her demandingness, if that was a word, on him anymore.
Michael drained the inch or so of champagne left in his glass, set it aside, and retreated to where the in-house sound system was set up. Sure enough, a few CDs were left there from the dancing earlier. He flicked through them quickly, putting on the Peter Cetera album, and returned to the front, where Donna was standing at the bar, scribbling something on a clipboard. He stole up behind her, plucked the pen from her hand, and when she exclaimed an indignant, "Michael!" he pressed himself against her back, resting his cheek against hers and his arms around her waist.
"I didn't get to dance with you at the reception. I want to dance with you now," he said quietly in her ear.
Donna turned in Michael's arms, spying Holly's bouquet lying at the end of the bar out of the corner of her eye as she did. For the first time, she registered that Michael had put on some music. "Well, then, let's dance," she said simply. Hand in hand, they headed to the center of the dance floor and began to move in time with the music.
"We've tried it on our own, but deep inside we've known, we'd be back to set things straight," Peter Cetera crooned.
Donna looked up into Michael's eyes. "This was playing earlier," she said.
"Roger and Holly's second dance," Michael confirmed with a nod. "Fitting for them...and for us."
Peter Cetera and Cher were both singing now about being two angels who had been rescued from the fall. "We're hardly angels, Michael," Donna disputed.
"I wasn't talking about that part, I was talking about every journey each of us takes leading us back to the other," Michael replied.
"Neither one of us is very much good without the other," Donna agreed. They were silent for a moment, just looking at each other as they danced. "Holly threw her bouquet to me on purpose, you know."
"You were the only single woman here," Michael pointed out.
"That wasn't the only reason she did it," Donna replied certainly. "She told me months ago that she wanted to marry Roger again. I was surprised, given their history, but she was just so sure. I asked her why, and do you know what she said? She said that wanted to marry Roger because she wanted him to know without any questions or doubts or fears that she is choosing to spend her life with him, by his side, that she'll belong to him and he'll belong to her no matter what. She wanted the world to know it too, but she said it was more important to her that Roger knows it."
"They didn't have an easy time of it in Springfield," Michael said. "The only person who wasn't dead set against them being together was Blake, and she's their daughter. I'm sure that was a factor in how Holly feels, although she and Roger don't have that problem here."
"I've thought a lot about what Holly said," Donna continued, ignoring Michael's explanation about past disapproval of Roger and Holly's relationship, "and it makes a great deal of sense to me."
Michael stopped moving, so Donna did too. "Donna," he said, surprised but hopeful.
"I know we've made a lot of mistakes in the past," she said, "and we'll make more in the future. But I think we're finally wise enough and mature enough not to make the same mistakes we made before. You're it for me, Michael. You have been since I was sixteen years old. And I know that neither one of us is going anywhere, but...well...what if we made things a little more permanent?"
"As long as we go into it with the understanding that there will not, under any circumstances, be a fourth divorce," Michael said firmly. "I'm not losing you again, Donna. Not for anything."
"Well, I'm not going to cheat on you again," Donna said.
"And we're not going to lie to each other anymore. We learned that lesson well," Michael pointed out.
"I'm not losing you again either. So we're agreed: no more divorces."
"None."
Donna looked at Michael expectantly then. "Well?"
"Well what?" he asked.
"Don't you have a question to ask me?"
"You're the one who brought it up."
"Oh, like you weren't thinking about it. I know you better than anyone in this world, Michael Spencer Hudson. You were thinking about it."
"That doesn't mean I was going to ask."
Donna huffed out an impatient breath. "It is traditionally the man who asks."
"Roger didn't." Michael smirked at her.
Donna rolled her eyes heavenward. "I must be crazy," she said. "I must be completely out of my mind to let myself in for this again. You can't even follow customary-" She was cut off when Michael crushed his mouth to hers, kissing her deeply. She wasn't too caught off guard to respond to his kiss.
When he broke the kiss, he said, "Donna Elizabeth Love, love of my life, mother of my children, my better half, will you marry me for the fourth and final time and be my wife forever this time?"
"Yes," she replied instantly. "Yes, I will." Then she kissed him as the song played to its conclusion around them.
When the elevator doors opened on the seventeenth floor of The Bayshore, before Holly could take one step out of the elevator, Roger had picked her up again, the way he had when he had carried her to the bedroom the night they had officially gotten back together. "What are you doing?" she asked him fondly.
"I'm carrying my bride across the threshold," Roger replied.
"Our suite is down there," she reminded him, inclining her head halfway down the hall.
"Okay, so I'm carrying my bride down the hall and across the threshold," he amended. His eyes radiated such earnestness and such love. "I've been waiting to do this for half my life, Hol."
Her shoes still dangling from one hand, she wrapped her other arm around his shoulders. "Then I don't think you should wait any longer," she said.
And so Roger carried Holly down the hall. When he stopped in front of the door to suite 1717, he looked at her sheepishly, and she chuckled, realizing that he was unable to reach the room key. "Which pocket is it in?" she asked him.
"My right outer overcoat pocket," he said. Holly shifted her shoes to her other hand and stretched her arm just enough to pluck the key from Roger's pocket and hand it to him.
Roger got the door open and then carried Holly into the suite, nudging the door closed behind him with his foot. When he set Holly down, she noticed that he seemed to be paying a lot of attention to the floor, so she followed his gaze...
...and it only took her one second to spot the rose petals. A fragrant path of red, white, and pink rose petals mixed together led from the living room to the bedroom. Holly looked from the rose petals to Roger. He just grinned. Dropping her shoes beside the coffee table, she followed the rose petals, Roger right behind her, and when she reached the bedroom and turned on the lights, she gasped quietly.
Unlit jar candles were resting on nearly every surface, numbering in the dozens. The bed had been remade with white silk sheets and a white-and-light-tan-striped silk comforter that was turned down, with the matching striped pillow shams and pillows in solid light tan cases propped up against the headboard. A bottle of Holly's favorite wine rested in an ice bucket standing next to the nightstand on Roger's side of the bed, and a sterling silver tray with two crystal goblets rested on the nightstand. "Surprise," Roger said softly. "There are also chocolate-dipped strawberries waiting in the refrigerator. At least, Ned assured me there would be, and we both know he's a man of his word."
"You did all this," Holly said, turning to look at Roger.
"I had a little help," he admitted. "Ned took care of the bedding and the strawberries and the wine. I scattered the rose petals, and Michael helped me unpack the candles and I set them up. It turns out there's a Yankee Candle store on the second floor of The Galleria. I just about bought out their jar candle section. I didn't want to burn the place down tonight, but I wanted to do something special, something romantic. I didn't want to make the same mistakes I made...well...on our first honeymoon."
Holly closed the short distance between Roger and herself. "I am so in love with you," she said, twining her arms around his neck.
Roger closed his eyes for a second, then pulled Holly closer, gently moving his palms up and down her back. "I'm never going to get tired of hearing you say that to me," he confessed.
"I'm never going to get tired of saying it to you," she replied. "I've kept it to myself for far too long. This is the start of our married life, our new beginning that will have no end. The past is the past, and we're going to leave it there. We have the present and the future to look forward to...together." She brought her hands down, stroking over his chest before removing his tuxedo jacket (he had left his overcoat with hers in the living room) and tossing it aside. She untied his tie and popped open his collar button. "I'm going to get changed. Why don't you light the candles and lose the shoes and socks while you're waiting? But leave on the rest of your clothes. Your wife would like the pleasure and the privilege of undressing you tonight."
Roger bit off a moan at the sultry expression on Holly's face and sultry tone in her voice as she brushed both her hands down his chest. He could feel the heat of her touch through the layers of his dress shirt and the crewneck undershirt he wore beneath it. "All right," he agreed.
"I'll just be a minute," she said before retrieving the infamous shopping bag from the closet shelf (true to his word, Roger hadn't peeked inside it) and heading into the bathroom to change. When the door clicked shut behind Holly, Roger sprang into action, picking up the lighter, which looked like a sawed-off sword, and lighting several candles, turning off the lights in the room, and finishing lighting the remaining candles. Then he thought of something else and hurried back to the front door of the suite. After putting the Do Not Disturb sign out on the door handle, he hurried back to the bedroom, took off his shoes and socks, and brushed his damp palms against his tuxedo pants, which was the first indication he had of his own slight nervousness.
At Cass and Frankie's house, after thanking Felicia (Cass's best friend and Charlie's godmother) for baby-sitting and walking her out, Cass locked up and went upstairs to check on Charlie, who was sound asleep in her toddler bed with its rails to keep her safe. He had thought Frankie would be in Charlie's room, but since she wasn't, Cass figured that she was getting ready for bed first. Cass knelt beside his daughter's bed and softly kissed her cheek. "'Night-night, Charlie," he whispered. "Daddy loves you so much."
"Mommy loves you too, sweet girl," Frankie whispered from behind Cass as one arm went around his chest.
Cass rested his hand on Frankie's arm across his chest. They both gazed at their sleeping daughter. "She's the most amazing person I know," Frankie said.
"That's because she takes after her mom," Cass replied.
"Do you think she'll like being a big sister?" Frankie asked.
Cass and Frankie had agreed to start trying for another baby (Frankie had suffered a miscarriage, her second, a little over a year before) recently, since Charlie would be three years old before the new baby was born, so the question was not completely out of left field for Cass. "I think it will be an adjustment, but I think, overall, yes, she'll enjoy it. It's true, when Stacey was born, I was five and wanted to send her back to the hospital the first time she woke me up in the middle of the night screaming her head off, but having Stacey for a sister was probably the best thing that happened to me when I was a kid. Are you having second thoughts about having another?"
"Bit late for that, Counselor," Frankie replied. Then her other hand appeared in front of Cass's eyes, holding a pregnancy test. Cass couldn't make out what the test said by the dim glow of Charlie's nightlight, but he knew what Frankie wasn't saying in so many words.
Cass carefully stood up and turned in his wife's arms. "Mary Frances?" he asked hopefully.
He could see her smile in the darkness of their daughter's bedroom. "It's a boy," she said decisively. "I want to name him Wallingford."
Tears sprang to Cass's eyes. Wallingford had been a dear friend to both him and Felicia. Before any of them had gotten married, before Cass had ever even met Frankie, they were The Three Musketeers, having all manner of crazy adventures, and misadventures, together, involving everything from loan sharks and mobsters, which necessitated Cass dressing in drag and trying to pass himself off as a woman named Krystal Lake, to Wallingford and Felicia accidentally ending up locked in a cage with an amorous gorilla at the zoo. Wallingford had passed away ten years ago (my god, has it really been that long, Cass thought now), suddenly and unexpectedly from a heart attack; when he hadn't shown up to work, since he had been the maitre'd' at Felicia's restaurant, and hadn't called, she went to check on him (of course they all had keys to each other's homes) and had found him in his bed. The two of them had been shattered to lose their third, but it was an even tougher blow for Felicia, who had been widowed by her first husband Zane Lindquist less than year earlier. They had never forgotten Wallingford, and Cass had felt a pang of regret that Wallingford had never met Frankie, or Charlie, just as he knew that Felicia regretted that Wallingford hadn't had the chance to meet her daughters Jenna, whom Felicia and her husband Lucas had adopted when she was a teenager orphaned by the death of her biological mother, Felicia's agent, and Lorna, the daughter Felicia and Lucas had had as teenagers who had then been taken from them, with Felicia told that she had died at birth and Lucas told that the baby was being put up for adoption at Felicia's insistence and she never wanted to see either one of them again, all of which were vengeful lies perpetrated by Felicia's hateful aunt, Abigail, who had never approved of Felicia, Lucas, or their relationship. They had found Lorna when she was 23. Lucas had been murdered a few short months later, but Felicia had forged strong, loving relationships with both of her daughters, though now only Lorna remained in Bay City; Jenna had married Frankie's cousin Dean Frame, a successful singer/songwriter, and they made their primary home in New York City now, in between Dean's tour dates, though they'd been talking lately about moving back to Bay City themselves.
Frankie knew all about Wallingford, of course, had heard chapter and verse on the man and his relationships with both Cass and Felicia from Cass and Felicia. He was deeply moved that Frankie wanted to name their son (knowing Frankie's psychic abilities, Cass had no doubts at all that this baby was indeed a boy) after his beloved late friend. "You won't get any objections from me," he said. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers. "I love you, Mary Frances."
"I love you too, Cass," she replied.
Holly emerged from the bathroom to find Roger with his back to her, adjusting some of the candles on his nightstand, having transferred the tray with the wine goblets to the top of the dresser. She just stood there by the bed, watching him, until he turned around and saw her standing there.
The sight of Holly stole the breath from Roger's lungs. She wore a silk confection of pale blue with black lace at the bodice, which revealed a tantalizing hint of cleavage, and hem, which stopped midthigh. "You are a vision," he said quietly, reverently.
She walked around the bed and over to him, stopping in front of him and reaching out, her fingers nimbly making quick work of the studs in his shirt. "Will you help me with my necklace?" she asked, turning around. Roger unfastened the clasp. "I have to remember to return this to Donna," she said. She walked to the dresser and put Roger's studs and the necklace on top of it before taking out her earrings and removing her bracelet and laying them on top of the dresser as well. "And to return the earrings to Frankie, and the bracelet to Rachel," she added. She felt Roger come up behind her and he removed his watch, laying it on top of the dresser with the other jewelry and his shirt studs.
"I like seeing my things all tangled up with yours," he said. They were both talking in hushed voices.
Holly turned into Roger's arms, taking out his cufflinks, turning back to drop them on the dresser top as well, then shoving the loose tuxedo shirt from his shoulders. He raised his arms above his head and she took off his t-shirt with a quick tug and let it fall to the floor beside them. She reached behind him and unfastened his cummerbund, tossing that aside as well as his arms came around her, caressing their way up and down her back.
"I like it too," she replied.
He reached out with one trembling fingertip and touched the flower she still wore in her hair. "I like the flower in your hair. It reminds me of-"
"Acapulco." This was said in unison.
"And that future trip to Tahiti," Holly added.
"You're not sorry we couldn't go there, or to London or Paris or at least New York, right now?" Roger asked.
"I'm not sorry about anything," she assured him. "Besides, I need a new passport anyway, since I've recently changed my name."
He smiled. "I really like that you recently changed your name." He gently took the flower from her hair and, seeing the Robert Frost book on the dresser, he opened it at random and laid the single white rose between two pages. Holly looked from Roger to the book, closing it and pressing the flower inside.
"I really like the way you look by candlelight." She brushed her hands across his bare chest gently, tenderly. Her hands were so soft and warm, lazily brushing across his skin.
"The way the candlelight plays off you-" he began, his voice still hushed. He swallowed hard. "You're always beautiful to me, but you in the candlelight...Can you feel how fast my heart is beating?" He guided one of her hands to the center of his chest and covered it with his own.
His heart was racing beneath her palm. Her own heart sped up in reply. Overcome, she stretched up to kiss him then, soft and gentle, tender and sweet, sensual and arousing. Roger pulled Holly closer, her chest pressing against his, and he could feel her nipples against his chest through the satin of her nightgown. He broke the kiss to trail kisses down her throat, to her collarbones. "My wife," he whispered reverently when he lifted his head.
"My husband," she whispered back, feeling the sacredness of the moment flood through her. She unfastened Roger's tuxedo pants, pulling the zipper down slowly. The pants fell to Roger's ankles and he stepped out of them. Holly's eyes widened at the sight of Roger in black silk boxers that did nothing to hide his arousal. "I like these," she whispered, toying with the waistband before slipping one hand beneath it to stroke him. His breath caught at her touch, and he gathered her even closer as he began moving backwards toward the bed until he fell back onto it, Holly falling with him, lying on top of him.
Before her lips descended on his once more, he brushed the hair from her face, cradling her head in his hands. "Too much," he rasped. "I don't...the words...I don't have the words to say how much I love you, and how happy I am that we're married."
"Then show me," she whispered back, lowering her face until it was inches from his. "And let me show you."
His boxers and her silk nightgown and matching panties made their way to the floor beside the bed, and then she was straddling him, guiding him into her wet heat, and they were moving together in unison as slowly, gently, they gave themselves over to one another and to the exquisite pleasure and all-consuming fulfillment of making love as husband and wife.
Across the hall and several doors down from Roger and Holly, Ross stood over the Pack 'n' Play and watched Kevin and Jason sleeping. Blake had changed into her pajamas and, deciding that it would probably be a late night for her and Ross, she called down to room service and ordered some Scotch, then grabbed the ice bucket and slipped out of their suite and down the hall to get some ice. When she passed her parents' suite, she noticed the Do Not Disturb sign on their door and couldn't help smiling at it. When she returned to her and Ross's room, he was still watching their sleeping sons. She met the room service guy with the Scotch, signed the thing and tipped him extra, and then gently tugged Ross away from the boys. She removed his overcoat, suit jacket, tie, and shoes, poured them both a Scotch over ice, and after putting one of the glasses in Ross's hand, said, "You can talk, or not. Whatever you need, know that I am here for you, and I'm not going anywhere. All I want is for you to let me in, because seeing you in this much pain hurts me. I'm not entirely certain how to carry some of the load, or even if I can carry some of it, for you. I only know that I want to try to."
Ross's response to that was to set down his Scotch, then take Blake's Scotch out of her hand and set that down, and then pull Blake into his arms and lay his head on her shoulder. "Thank God I have you," he said. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
"For what?" Blake asked, confused, as she gently rubbed soothing circles on Ross's back, much as she did with Kevin and Jason when they were fussy.
Ross drew back to look in Blake's eyes but remained in her arms. "For not listening to you about Dinah, for not believing you about her."
"That's not your fault," she said.
"Then whose fault is it?"
"You're her father. Of course you're going to believe the best about her, no matter what kind of evidence to the contrary there is. God knows my dad always did that with me."
"I'm not sure what happens now, with Dinah, and with Hart," Ross said then. "Even leaving the legal ramifications out of it, she is bound and determined to stay with him, and he's just so unstable. What if it isn't safe for her to be around him? What if he turns on her the way he turned on Roger?"
"I wish I had answers for you, Ross, but I don't," Blake said. "I stand by what I said earlier, though: the fact that Dinah is putting Hart above herself is huge. She could have cut and run. She could have blamed this whole thing on him. But she didn't. She's willing to stand up and accept responsibility for her actions, and to at least try to help Hart accept responsibility for his. I know you wish it was anybody but Hart, but I've been there, and when you can honestly say to yourself that what he needs and what he wants matter more to you than anything you want or anything you might need, that's when you know that it's love. And unless he tells her to get lost, I doubt she's going anywhere. Even if she tried to stay away, ultimately she wouldn't be able to."
"Do you think this could be anything other than a disaster?" Ross asked desperately.
"I think it could," Blake replied. "I really think it could. But whatever happens, we'll deal with it together." She cupped his cheek in her palm. "You look so tired, honey."
"I'm not sure if I can sleep," Ross admitted.
"Well, we can at least lie down," Blake replied.
When they were lying in bed, Ross rested his head on Blake's chest. "I love you, Blake," he said.
"I love you too, Ross," she replied. They lay there in the quiet, their sons sleeping a few feet away from them, and Ross took great comfort in Blake's embrace, in her hand rubbing his back and brushing through his hair, in the beat of her heart beneath his cheek, and gradually he slipped into slumber. Blake knew by the change in his breathing when he had fallen asleep and tightened her hold on him, lying there with Ross in her arms and concentrating on his breathing. A few minutes later, she was asleep too.
In their own suite, Roger and Holly were all wrapped up in each other in the afterglow. Holly reached for Roger's hand and brushed her lips across his wedding ring. "I got you a wedding present too," she said.
Roger looked at her, surprised. "You married me tonight," he said. "That was the greatest gift ever. You're the greatest gift ever."
She looked at him tenderly. "Well, I'm not taking it back," she said. She moved out of his arms, pulling a small wrapped box out of her nightstand, and Roger got a sense of deja vu, remembering when she had reached into another nightstand and given him a key to her house. He took the present and opened it; it was a new watch, and before Holly could say anything, Roger checked the back of the watch. Sure enough, she had had it engraved: I Will Love You Beyond the End of Time.
"It's terrific," he said. "Thank you." He kissed her, and she moved back into his arms with a contented hum. "Did you feel it?" he murmured against her lips.
"The difference?" she murmured back. "Yes."
"This deeper connection, on every level," Roger said.
"Exactly," Holly replied. She pulled him to her. "This is what happens when you marry your soulmate."
"It is?"
"It must be. I married mine tonight." Her smile was beatific.
"What a coincidence. I married my soulmate tonight too." He looked at her solemnly, earnestly. "I'm going to make you so happy."
"We're going to make each other happy," she corrected gently, firmly, certainly. She leaned in and kissed him then, and he responded, and soon they were lost in each other once more.
They made love again and again, deep into the night, until they fell asleep, holding each other tightly all through the night.