I pull out from the linen closet in the hallway to see him smiling in the doorway. My husband, John Carter. I smile back.
After a year, he's still so cute. He wears that white shirt and jeans. I love him like that. So raw and natural. I tell him it all the time. He tells me I'm beautiful. But, in reality, he's the most beautiful man I know. Inside and out.
"Hey," I say casually as he moves toward me. He encircles his arms around me with such swift grace. His lips meet mine. Heaven. Bliss. My hands move, without my noticing, around his neck. Our smiles are completely aware as we continue our sweet ascent through this one kiss. Its wonderful. Its beautiful. The way we connect.
His hand caresses my back so lightly, I wonder if its really there. I reach up and twist a strand of hair between two fingers casually. I melt as his other hand caresses my thigh warmly. I love these moments.
His hands are on my waist now, his thumbs rubbing it softly. I smile shyly and stare up into his eyes with my forehead pressed against his. He barely moved his head from mine and kissed my nose. I giggle. Something I've learned to do with him. He giggles in reciprocation. For an instant, we share that quiet giggle. Standing against the closet door.
He brushes a strand of hair away from my face. I'll never tell him, but I love when he does that. Its perfect. Its makes me feel as though we were locked in a never-ending romance story. In a way, I already was.
For a minute more, we keep our foreheads together and watch the other blink. Watching so lovingly. I love this. I love him.
His body is still against mine, but he's holding onto me tightly. And together, we stand against that door. Still. My hand edges to his back where I gently take hold of the cloth. That white shirt.
I kiss him again. A playful kiss. Reaching up and pecking him on the lips. Again, something I've learned from him. To be so childish at times just for fun. He kisses me back immediately. We continue this adorable act for another thirty seconds.
He leaves his position from in front of me, and stands close next to me against that door. He takes my hand, and tilts his head to the side. It meets mine, and as we stand there with our hands together in at the top, we watch our hands instinctively begin to intertwine.
He takes my hand again and tenderly rubs a thumb over my knuckles. I watch his process that I've grown to love. I allow him to do it all to me. He taught me how to love. More than before.
He sighs with a turn of his head. He comes close to my face. With our faces inches apart, I think we're going to kiss.
Knowing John Carter, we won't, because he wants to tease me. I know he does. He has that glint in his eye and he knows I notice that. My smile becomes even wider. I try to stifle it. I can imagine how odd I look. How my face must be twisted into a funnily created grin.
He laughs at my expression. A laugh. My heart skips as always and I shiver. I laugh at my own embarrassment and look back up at him. He's laughing too.
I reach up and kiss him softly. I've taken him by surprise, but it was necessary. With our eyes closed and lips still dancing in sync, we take the other's hand and lead ourselves to the kitchen. He leads me more than I lead him, and when he parts I open my eyes. I want to protest at that loss of his lips, but I see the scene he shows me.
Candles. Everywhere. The food is so neatly arranged and everything is, well, perfect. I look to John. He's blushing vividly. He's smiling at his own work, nervous for my approval. Now he's attempting to suffocate his own smile. I'm not fooled.
We share that one expression. That smile.
He takes my hand and I let my smile spread further across my face. He leads me to the table and pulls a chair out for me. I look back up at him and I shake my head happily.
The plates are covered. I wonder why.
"What are you hiding?" I ask, motioning toward the cover.
He shakes his head excitedly. "Not yet."
I am still smiling. I sit back in the chair and wait for him to join me. He sits down next to me. I remember telling him that. I told him that its more romantic if you sit next to someone rather than across from someone.
He had agreed.
He nods, allowing me to reveal my plate. I take the cover off.
"Oh," I laugh. I put a hand over my eyes and he laughs, too. It was the same thing we'd had that first time we'd met. Those hot fudge sundaes from Doc Magoo's.
"John," I laughed.
"You don't like it?" he asks.
"No!" I cry. My laughter eases. "I love it. I can't believe you did this." I move over to him and put a soft hand on his neck. I kiss him lovingly.
"Really?"
I stutter on pure air, thinking of what to say. I sigh and shake my head again. "I love you. So much."
