Free to Love

Chapter 66

Shawn

"Do I really have to put on a condom?" I asked as I hovered over my naked fiancée, so ready to get down to business.

"Yes! The wedding is only three weeks away. You can wait that long," she said as she pushed her knees together.

"But I hate them," I whined. "And since we're going to start trying for a baby soon, why can't we start now?"

"It's a condom or nothing. I want to be able to drink our signature wedding cocktails!"

Joanna had seen a cutesy idea for bride and groom cocktails on some wedding planning website and had gotten very excited about it. In addition to the standard bar, there'd be a drink station just for our selected cocktails with chalkboards that said 'Mr.' and 'Mrs.' with our drink descriptions. I swore the chalkboard thing was because she was a teacher.

Joanna's drink was called a 'blinker' and was comprised of rye, grapefruit juice, and raspberry syrup. It was tasty, but I was pretty sure she picked it for the pretty pink color. She'd become obsessed with this color that looked liked rosé wine ever since she'd picked out the bridesmaids' dresses in that shade.

I'd chosen a 'Canadian whiskey ginger' which was just Canadian whiskey and ginger ale and a twist of lime. It was simple, but definitely one of my favorite drinks. Jo thought I should pick something I wouldn't ordinarily drink at home. I told her that it was my damn 'Mr.' drink and I'd choose what I wanted. I said that jokingly, of course. I knew better than to enrage the bride.

I climbed off my wife-to-be with a very dramatic over-exaggerated sigh and grabbed a condom out of the bedside table drawer.

After we had sex (which was great despite the condom), Joanna gave me a big kiss. "Thanks for using protection. I know it's been a drag."

"It's fine. It really wasn't so much about the condom but more about wanting to plant my seed."

"Ew."

"Knock you up?" I suggested.

She wrinkled her nose. "Try again."

"Put a bun in your oven?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Put a pea in the pod?"

She laughed. "Keep going."

I thought a second. "Send a bat in the cave?"

"Oh my god, did you make that up?" she asked.

I shook my head and tried again. "Make you up the duff?"

She made a face. "What?"

"I think it's Australian slang. I heard it when I toured there once," I explained.

"Up the duff is the worst. Don't ever say that one again," she told me.

"How about this? Put a little Mendes inside you."

"You do that all the time, but it's not so little," she said with a giggle.

"Get ready for the honeymoon. It's going to be three times a day."

"You'd think you were 18 and not almost 30," she said, laughing some more.

"Sexually I'm years behind because of my long period of celibacy. I'm still making up for that. I think at the rate we're going, I'll be caught up in the next year or so," I joked.

"What if I don't like sex when I'm pregnant? Or what if I'm too tired after the baby comes? You might be in for another long period of celibacy," she said with a straight face.