I Made You My First (21 page)

“Tell me when to stop,” he
said.

I smacked hi
s shoulder and laughed.  “No, this was your idea, Buster, you pick. I just decided to come today to get out of the house,” and we laughed. He pulled into the parking lot of a little white chapel called Wedding Bells and we stared at it. 

The car parked, he turned and looked at me,
smiling sweetly.  “This is your last chance to run like hell, Jurnee.”

I
touched his nose with my finger.  “I did mention that I snore, right?”

He laughed.  “I’ve heard you, believe me, and I’m still here.”
He came around, opening my door and we stood looking at the chapel door.  “We aren’t going to get hitched standing here in the parking lot, now are we?” and we headed for the front door.

When we
walked inside several other couples were already there. Some wore wedding dresses and tuxedos.  One couple even wore silly costumes. A woman approached and held her hand out to me. I looked at her and took a step behind Irish, allowing him to handle this matter. I was definitely feeling
very
much out of my comfort zone, and Irish explained to the consultant that we were only interested in a quick ceremony as we needed to return to San Diego this evening. She led us to a room off the main foyer. It was empty and looked like a miniature version of a traditional church. The woman left us, promising to return shortly. We smiled at each other when she left the room, giving each other big animated silly eyes.

“
This is probably when I should reveal to you that I’m really a man, huh?”

He began tickling me
. I was laughing so hard the room became silent between my gasps for air. “You shouldn’t have told me you were ticklish, now should you?” 

The consultant
returned and we tried to look serious. “If you two want to fill out this form, we should be able to get you married and on your way back home,” she said smiling at us.

When she left
, we sat down like adults and began answering the questions on the single-paged form. I held the clipboard and asked Irish questions I was unsure about.  When the woman returned, she was accompanied by a man I guessed was going to perform the ceremony. He took the clipboard and our certificate, and we were legally married ten minutes later.

After
we kissed, Irish whispered in my ear, “We’ll do this right later,” and I hugged him.

When we got back
to the car, neither of us spoke; we wore ridiculous
I-can’t-believe-we-did-it
smiles.

When we were on the freeway heading
home, Irish turned to me, reaching for my hand. “You belong to me, Jurnee Ciara,” and he wore a devilish grin.

I sque
ezed his hand and smiled back. “Um no, we belong to each other.” 

He shook his head no
. His smile grew huge and looking into my eyes he said, “Today I get to say that you belong to me, all day, at least until midnight. It’s a guy thing, Jurnee.”

I giggled at him.  “Okay, if that makes you happy”
and I squeezed his hand again.

He turn
ed and looked at the road now.  “It does, very much,” he said, smiling.

We stopped once on the way home to
buy fuel and eat a meal. I counted eight times that Irish found ways to work
my wife
into his conversations.

I smiled and laughed
.
He’d really turned out to be
my prize
, I thought,
and maybe the best birthday present I’d ever received
. 

We
exited the road for Irish’s property, even though we thought Paris was probably there.  Irish had to fly to San Francisco the next day to sign papers and take care of business for his dad. When we pulled off the main road and onto the private drive, a huge paper sign was hanging on the closed gate. Irish stopped the car and we both stared.
Welcome Home Irish and Jurnee
was printed in huge purple letters. Pictures of wedding bells hung on either end of the sign.

We
looked at each other and laughed. “I’m guessing everyone knows,” Irish said.

Much to our surprise Paris wasn’
t there when we drove to the house.  We dropped our bags on the sofa and headed for the kitchen.  On the counter was a coffeemaker I was sure had not been there earlier. I looked at Irish. 

“
My wife likes her coffee in the morning,” he said smiling.

I
shook my head and grinned at him.
We’re now at number ten with the wife references
, I thought. I opened the refrigerator and saw food. And wine! I turned to Irish, holding the door open, “How...when...who put food in here?”

He grinned at me
, leaning his elbows on the counter.  “I figured that we’d be busy with our honeymoon celebration but we’d still have to eat.” 

I shut the door and sta
red at him.  Any past moments I’d once thought were my happiest didn’t hold a candle to the way I felt right now.  I didn’t feel lost or scared or unsure. I felt safe and loved, but
mostly
certain that trusting him was probably the best decision I ever made. 

He stood there, watchin
g me with a sexy little grin and said, “Your husband would greatly appreciate your company upstairs” and he couldn’t keep a straight face. I walked into his open arms.

Pulling back from his chest
to see his gorgeous blues, I said, “Hey Mister, would you give my husband a message?”  And I batted my eyes for added effect.

“
I sure will, Mrs. Thompson,” he said, giving me a silly grin.

“
Will you tell him that when we were in my bedroom in North Carolina and he told me I’d be happy with him, that he was correct one hundred percent plus ten. Oh and please tell him that I love him more than words can say.”

He pressed his lips
to mine and I felt myself melting into his body. He was holding me so tightly, I could hardly breathe. He finally released his hold on me, slowly covering me with gentle kisses. He took my hand, leading me upstairs. After a romantic candle-lit shower together, our honeymoon officially began.

Irish had to be at the airport at
two o’clock Wednesday afternoon. His plan included flying out, taking care of business, and returning home by seven that evening.  On his way home he was going to stop by Judy’s and pick up my suitcases.

I was finally going
to meet his mother while he was away on business. She’d invited me to dinner. Nervous wasn’t even an adequate word to describe my feelings, but when Irish told me that it would be only the two of us, I was relieved. She was going to pick me up at five o’clock, so I was adamant about being ready when she arrived.

At
four-fifty in late afternoon, I heard a soft knock on the front door. When I opened it, Irish’s mom stood there with the sweetest smile.  “You must be my new daughter-in-law,” she said.  I smiled back at her trying to get used to that title.  “I think that you and I have a dinner date, Jurnee” and she held her hands out to give me a hug. She barely came to my collar bone and I caught myself bending my knees a little in the middle of our hug. 
She smelled so good
, I thought,
just like my mother
.

I
closed the door and walked to her car.  I watched as she climbed into the driver’s side and I’d have bet she wouldn’t be able to reach the pedals.  We drove up the winding road and into her garage. I followed her through a door that led straight into a huge kitchen. She pointed to an island that must have had ten chairs encircling it.  I sat down and watched her put her keys away, then disappear from view.

After
a few moments she returned carrying a medium-sized box wrapped in silver wedding paper, setting it on the opposite side of the island. “This is from me for you and Irish,” she said, “but I want you two to open it together.”  I smiled politely. She sat in a chair beside me. When I looked into her face, I saw her son.
He’d inherited all of her beautiful features
, I thought.  I had to smile when I looked into her eyes. She took a deep breath and reached for my hand.

We
sat there looking at each other, and she finally gave me the sweetest smile, reminding me of my Aunt Jean. “I know you don’t know this, Jurnee,” and she leaned in like we might be overheard by someone. “My son has loved you for a very long time.”

I smiled, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “
I love all of my children equally of course, but my Irish, well he has the softest heart of all,” and my eyes were fixed on hers.

She sat back in her chair
 and her face became serious, “Do you know that when Irish came home from your parents’ funeral with London, he told me he was going to marry you?”  I registered surprise, but I was more curious at what else she might be able to tell me about my new husband.

I
looked at her, waiting for her to continue.  “A few months after your parents’ funeral, John nearly beat the tar out of Irish for taking a picture of you from his house.”

She
looked down at her hands, “Irish came to me and said he knew John wouldn’t allow him to have it so he took it. He knows better than to take things that aren’t his, but it’s my guess he really wanted to have something to remind him of you.”

She smiled, and I guessed she was thinking of Irish
. “He dated so many girls, trying to find one that would make him feel the same way that he did for you. But I think that feelings really complicated things for him and Irish didn’t want complicated, he really just wanted you.”

She looked at me, and her voice was much so
fter now.  “I told him if he felt that strongly about you that he shouldn’t settle for anything less.”

She smiled
and moved closer to me, “Irish is happier than I’ve ever seen him, Jurnee, and that’s a gift.  I’m so happy you two found each other. I want you to know I can never begin to replace your parent, dear, but I love my Irish and if he loves you, then I love you too. You can always come to me for anything, dear.”

I felt my e
yes filling but couldn’t look away. Now I knew where Irish got his strength. She was sitting in the chair right in front of me, holding my hand. Tears rolled down my cheeks.  She lifted her hand to my face and wiped a cheek and then touched my nose with her finger.  “Those had better be happy tears,” and she smiled.

“You b
oth had better take care of each other like you are the only two people on earth. That’s all that should ever be important. Never let anyone come between your bond with each other and you’ll always be happy.” I smiled back at her, trying to get my crying in check.

“I don’
t know what your favorite foods are yet, Jurnee, so you’re going to have to forgive me this time. I did pick some of Irish’s favorite foods, hoping that you’d let me slide.” I nodded and wiped my eyes. She jumped down from her chair and walked to the refrigerator, bringing plates of cut-up vegetables and cheeses, smoked salmon, fruit, and some dips. We picked at the plates while she talked about Irish when he was a boy.  I felt honored she’d accepted me as her daughter-in-law.

Before I realized it
, Irish arrived. I beamed when I saw him. He walked up behind me and wrapped his whole body around me. He kissed my neck and then looked at his mother, “So Mom, how many embarrassing stories did you tell my wife about me?” And he smiled sweetly.

She returned his smile a
nd laughed.  “I’m saving all those stories and going to string them out one at a time so I don’t scare the poor girl away.”

H
e laughed, looking at me now.  “Are you ready to go home?”

I lo
oked at his mom and all of the food.  “Yes, but let me help put all of this wonderful food away first.”

She turned to me and laid her hand on
my arm, squeezing it tightly.  “Jurnee, I don’t ever want to ask you to do anything that would make you feel uncomfortable, but you’re family now, and I’d love it, dear, if you’d call me mom.”

“I’d be honored.”

I fe
lt Irish squeeze my shoulders.

“You two go home;
dad won’t be here until after ten.  I have plenty of time to put this food away. Irish, be sure to take that gift home with you.”  She smiled at us and I jumped down from my chair, following my husband.

A
t home, I got comfortable on the sofa while Irish ran upstairs. I sat there thinking about how well the get-together had gone with his mom, and how silly I’d been about being so nervous. I also thought about what she’d told me. And about what Irish had told her. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed but when I looked up, Irish was coming down the stairs. His hair was wet, and he’d changed clothes.

He
sat down beside me.  “What would my wife like to do?”  He asked, tilting his head and giving me a devilish smile.