Pre- Honeymoon

It's the early morning of our wedding day. I just got back from the strip club I promised I wouldn't go to an hour ago. I can't stop thinking about you though. You're two doors down, not sleeping thinking of me too. After memorizing the patterns of this full, but lonely for a while longer, I can't take it. I have to see you.

When I open my door, you're standing there, fist raised to knock wearing one of my shirts. It's actually the shirt I wore on our first official date. With a grin and no words, I grab your hand and we walk down to the hotel lobby. People give us looks considering your shirt and my sports bra and pajama pants.

When we approach the service desk, I ask for a key card to the overflow room we booked in case more people crashed after our bachelorette party shenanigans.

In the room, we strip down to nothing and get into bed. I just need to feel you and our two month celibacy agreement didn't really warrant a lot of cuddle time. I lay on your chest and almost immediately fall asleep to the familiar lullaby of your heartbeat.

Only a few too short hours later, your pissed best friend is beating the door claiming we broke tradition. I thought the whole thing was stupid, while you gushed at how romantic it would be. Best Friend gives me the evil eye as she takes you away. There's barely enough time for you to say goodbye or see you later as she drags you down the hall.

"Love you," is all that's squeaked out. At this point I know you won't hear my response, but it has to be said.

"Love you lotses."