The night came too soon. He would have made the day last forever, their day of joining, their day of holding on to each other, surrounded by everyone who loved them, and yet alone in their love for each other. He would have held her always in this day, when he finally showed her the depth of his feeling and the strength of his intentions, when he finally carried her over the threshold of his life and into his home to stay. He would have gotten married to Martha every day, just to hear her say "yes" to him again.
"I'm going to need help getting out of this dress." Martha wriggled her shoulders suggestively.
She was in a hurry to have it off, and she didn't mean to put on anything else after. She lifted her hair out of the way, the long golden strands tangling in her hurried fingers, and her breath came faster as he undid the zipper down her back. It was their night of joining, too. Tonight they were going to tell each other another "yes" after all this time of saying "wait". The zipper parted, revealing the glossy white slip underneath. A soft giggle escaped her when he reached the end and brushed against the curve of her bottom. She slid her arms out of the sleeves, glancing back at him over her bare shoulder, and she let her clothes drop around her feet. Delicately stepping out from the piles of fabric, she spread it across his furniture like a virginal offering. The dress that had received so much care now lay draped over his armchair, its creamy folds puddling onto the floor.
She laced her fingers in his, and walked him into the bedroom. His fingers brushed against skin on parts of her he hadn't even looked at before. Her thighs rubbed up against his, and her eyes gleamed with desire. She wasn't going to wait any longer. How do you tell someone you haven't done it before? It wasn't that he didn't want to. How do you know for sure anyway, if you want to, if you like it, if you haven't really tried before? He didn't think he didn't want to.
Martha didn't seem to have any trouble knowing what she wanted. The hesitation inside him didn't plague her, for all she didn't have trouble waiting before. When you love someone, you want to. He wanted to make her happy, was that the same thing? She pulled him against her body, drawing him into the cleft of her legs. There was nothing more intimate than being inside someone, that's what people said. He'd felt closer to her holding her hand, or looking into her eyes. She sighed and panted and cried his name until she couldn't speak any more, and he just held her, wondering what this was to her.
All the books and all the poetry still left him without a word to express what he felt, or maybe whatever it was he didn't feel. He thought it'd all make sense after, but it left him more confused. He knew he loved her. He felt emotions for her he never felt for anyone. He also didn't feel anything more from touching her, whatever extra thing she'd felt tonight.
As he watched her sleeping face in the dark, something finally started to stir inside him. Warmth bloomed in his chest and spread until he felt it flushing his face and tingling in every part of his body. Knowing she'd be lying here beside him every night for the rest of their lives was everything he needed. Any mystery lying between them could be worked out, and if he never came to understand, he could cope. Whatever she felt tonight was hers. He didn't feel a loss for not sharing the experience. What he felt in the quiet times and the long gazes and the held hands, those were his. He wasn't lesser for being different. What they had together, in each their own ways, was enough.