"Do you know what I love most about you?" I ask Lottie. When she arches her eyebrow at me, I lean forward and plant a kiss against her cheek, enjoying the sound of her giggles. "I love that you get so fucking horny when you're pregnant."
Throwing her head back against the pillow, she lets out a loud laugh, caught up in the moment. When she realises she's being too loud, she clamps a hand over her mouth and dives under the cover to hide. Considering this is the morning of our wedding, I don't think she should be sneaking around the place, wandering into my bedroom to seduce me. Lottie reasoned that we were already married in the eyes of the law and therefore, it shouldn't matter if she decided to want to have her wicked way with me this morning.
Pausing for a few seconds to see if anyone had heard her, when it seems as if the coast is clear, I dive under the covers with her, wrapping her up in my arms before moving my hand to the small swell of her stomach. Compared to her pregnancy with Sera, Lottie's belly hadn't popped yet; she joked that she just looked bloated and not pregnant but it didn't matter to me. As always, she simply looked beautiful. Ravishing, even. When she blushed under my gaze as I dropped my mouth to her collarbone, it only made me want her more.
"Isaac, get up, you prick," my best friend's voice shouted as he barged into the bedroom without warning. Raising my finger to my lips, telling Lottie to be quiet, I clamber out of the bed, silently thankful that my morning glory had been taken care of. Mick rolled his eye. "No one needs to see your shrivelled up dick this early in the morning. Now, come on, we've got a French civil wedding to fake. Thank fuck Charlotte threw a bridezilla fit and told everyone that it was only you two and your witnesses."
Biting down on my tongue, I ignore the way the covers on the bed move as Lottie thinks about pouncing out to give Mick a piece of his mind and nod along in agreement. "Yeah, absolutely. She's a legend."
"Just get in the shower, put your suit on and then we can go," Mick instructs me as he heads towards the door. He pauses, looks over his shoulder and says, "You too, Charlotte. Except for the suit. Throw on a dress or something in white."
When the door slams shut, Lottie throws the bed covers off her and glares at me, like I'm the one that called her a bridezilla. There are two sides to my wife when she's pregnant and hormonal- the sweet (horny) side and then the angry (pissed off) side. The horny side only came out with me. Hopefully. The other side, however, was anyone's guess. If Mick wasn't careful, Lottie might rip him a new one today.
Sneaking Lottie out of my room and back into hers down the hall, I rush to get ready, starting by jumping into the shower. I was tempted to shave, especially after my mother told me that I looked like a homeless person with my scraggly stubble, but Lottie would sooner divorce me. She has this weird thing about me not being clean-shaven at the moment so even if I did look like a homeless person, the beard is here to stay. Pulling on the slate grey suit, matched with a white shirt with the top buttons left open, I spritzed on some aftershave, just enough so that it wouldn't turn Lottie's stomach.
Walking down to the kitchen, I see my family sitting around the breakfast table with Lottie's sisters and Camille, all giving me the cold shoulder. As Mick said, Lottie had insisted that the civil ceremony this morning should only be attended by our witnesses because we're not actually going to the mairie to get married. Since we're already legally married, it was redundant- and illegal- to go and do it all again. Although she wasn't a bridezilla about it, when Lottie announced our plans to our families last night after the rehearsal dinner, she was quite adamant in her demands. It went down like a lead balloon.
"Good morning," I greet them all. None greeted me back. Hopefully, they'll get over this snub in time for the religious blessing later this afternoon but until then, they can be as childish as they wanted to be. Walking over to the table, I stoop in front of Sera's high chair and poke my tongue out at her. She laughs, just like she always does when I do this. She just loves to see my goof off like this and her laugh sounds a lot like Lottie's- too damn cute. "Daddy loves your very, very much."
I hear someone scoff behind me. "You don't say that to me," Martha playfully says. Brushing my knuckles over Sera's fine blonde hair, I kiss her forehead and then make my way over to Martha, holding my arms out to her. She eyes me suspiciously. "What are you doing?"
"Daddy loves you very much, too, Bindi," I tell her. Just as I'd done with Sera, I brush my hand over her hair before pulling her into a hug. "You look really pretty, Bindi."
For this morning's outing, we told Mick and Martha that they could wear whatever they wanted. I mean, we're only going out for breakfast. Still, they knew the score and chose to make an effort. Martha wore a black, blue and purple dress with flowers on it, her hair worn long down her back, while Mick chose a navy suit. I had no idea what Lottie would choose. Every little detail of her dresses had been kept a secret with military precision.
Still, as I looked towards the stairs, I saw her come into view and smiled. Well, I wasn't expecting that. In an all-white outfit, Lottie wasn't wearing a dress. White shorts, white top, white blazer, she looked beautiful. That little black satin drawstring bag with silver beading and crystals showed her quirky side but I knew there was a reason she toted it around. Our wedding rings were inside, the ones that we've been careful not to wear outside of the house for the past few weeks, and the ones that we'll soon proudly get to flaunt in public.
"You look incredible," I tell Lottie as I walk towards her. Lowering my voice so that only Lottie could hear me, I take her hand in mine and say, "Can we go now? I am dying for a pain au chocolat."
Martha
Charlotte
YOU ARE READING
At Last
Short StoryCharlotte Delaney was insistent that she was never going to get married. Never. Not happening. No chance in Hell. Isaac Fletcher changed all that. At Last.