Psyche and Eros

Morning Of

When I awake the next morning, I take my time. 

I draw my own bath, warming the water over my own fire. I planned on taking my time but as soon as I got in the water, I wanted to jump back out. The anxiety to see him was getting to me, but I still forced myself to count my breaths, soaking for as long as it took for it to fade away. 

When I have finished washing my hair, and am simply enjoying the quiet, I can sense his movement downstairs. 

Who knows what he may be doing. More decorations, I presume. More flowers, more lights, more candles to place into the right position. 

He has a  certain flare for that type of thing, I've noticed. He's also very sensitive, in tune with himself...and his feelings, whether or not he always shares them with me is another matter. Not something I ever considered a quality to look for in a man, but now I couldn't imagine it being any other way. To have a brute stomping around this house, refusing to cook, or help me with making the place a home...it would not be nearly as pleasant. 

Plus, he has never once left a mess for me to clean up. Never once has he even broken something - that I know of. Even if he did, I'm sure he would repair it immediately. 

Interesting...I close my eyes and sink deeper into the water until it fills my ears. It only lasts for a few seconds before I raise my head back out. Quickly, I hear the clearing of his throat, now present behind me in the vicinity of the doorway. 

I freeze, my hands stuck on the edge of the tub. 

"I'm sorry Psyche, I called for you and you didn't answer. I didn't realize -" 

"It's alright." I insist curtly. It's nothing but a superficial fear, isn't it? A barrier that would have been crossed tonight anyway. Right? Or at least soon after. 

"Take your time. I'll see you downstairs." He says, his tone barren of any emotion. No hint at all to what he was actually able to see. 

My back faces the doorway, so likely not much. 

For reasons I can't express, I feel like stopping him...but I don't muster the courage. Not just yet. 

The door closes softly, and I immediately pull myself out to get dried and ready.

As it turns out, he was summoning me for a warm breakfast, waiting downstairs for me. The aroma reaches me before I've even finished treading down the stairs. 

"My gosh, this is amazing." I groan immediately. The now evident pit of hunger in my stomach is now presenting itself. I can't help but skip over. Quite awkwardly, I happen to run right into him as he poured water for me. 

He chuckles, wrapping his arm around my side. A warm 'hello' I reciprocate, despite my returning anxiety. At the day ahead, at what he will say about what I said last night...and so much more. 

I lean up for a peck instead of speaking on those anxieties right this moment. He obliges, and pulls out my chair for me. 

"Thank you, I can't tell you how delicious this looks. Though - I am going to be baking after this." 

"Is that my warning to stay out of the kitchen?" He seats himself. 

I nod with a smirk, staring off in a daze. Did he like what he saw? He must have, right? Oh, stupid, stupid insecurities. Is there truly a soul that can exist without them? 

He brings the topic up surprisingly. To perhaps, release the tension. An action I will thankful for, depending on what he says.

"About what you said last night -" 

I put down my utensils to listen, anticipation building in my chest. I feel the urge to take back the condition. That no matter what, we would find a way to evade the situation forever if that is how he wishes it to be. Somehow, I resist that urge and stay quiet. 

"I agree to your terms. Is there anything else you want to say before we go through with it?" 

I take a moment to feel stunned, but I shake my head. "I'm just glad to hear it, that's all."

"Anything you're nervous about?" He probes. 

I clear my throat and look back at my plate. "Nothing but the usual expectations, but nothing I can't manage." I know the rest can go without saying. He is asking only as a courtesy. I love him for it but-

I catch myself thinking about love, and almost want to laugh. Is this love quite yet? We have a comfortable union forming, with an uncertain future, but a very solid connection all the more. I am certainly considering the concept of love...I know that now more than ever. 

Oh gosh, my emotions are out of my control now aren't they? May as well embrace it now. We are to be married tonight, after all. 

"You take the lead, love." He finally says, breaking off my thought. 

I instantly feel a blush form on my cheeks. "Alright. Agreed." 

He walks away then, clearly up the breakfast. "I've finished decorating. You can take a look or leave it up to surprise. Whichever you like." 

"Surprise, sounds good. I have baking to work on and my dress until the time comes." 

Truth is, I had started on my wardrobe a long time ago. With all the time I have, of course, I would play around with fabrics - especially when it came with perfectly forming my wedding dress. I wouldn't have suggested getting married without an excellent dress nearly ready. 

I merely have to spend a second looking it over for any remaining imperfections. Try it on and such...something I have put off. 

I put together a magnificent marble cake over the next hour or so. I throw it in the oven before scurrying back up the stairs. Inside my walk-in closet, the dress sits waiting.

And it is beautiful, despite being at the mercy of my nitpicking nature. I made it, after all. It's up for my husband's judgement as well. He hasn't seen how I am with a needle and thread. Not truly...I want him to be impressed, just as I want to impress myself. 

I made it simplistic, but perfectly elegant. I don't need it to be too fancy...but I focused especially on the train and the veil I threw together, the true star of the show. The veil is longer than I am tall, and fans out behind me wonderfully. Or at least, that is the hope. 

Breathing out a deep breath, I step into it. 

And low and behold, there is nothing I can pick apart about it. It is absolutely beautiful. At least for now, until I stare long enough at it.