His mother was fussing around about the wedding date, the church, the food, his tuxedo, his best man and groomsmen's tuxedo, and practically everything while across the room, her mother was making phone calls about the little bride-to-be's dress and its adjustments.
The couple sat in the middle of the room, hand practically attached to each other. They both were fighting a smile at the scene in front of them.
"Goodness gracious, what are you two laughing about just now?" his mother scolded, hands on her hips and lips pursed. They both sobered. "The wedding is two months away, two months away!"
"We know, Mom."
"I can't believe you two are just sitting around. Come on, don't you want your wedding day to be perfect? Oh, I so do. You don't possibly want the caterer to serve you and the guests seafood and peanuts and have your allergy reaction ruin your day, do you? What about Clara's cake, what if they forget to put strawberry on it and instead have it blackberry flavored?" his mother ranted, practically spitting her two last words as if they were disgusting.
"I don't mind blackberry, Ma'am," she politely said while he sent her an apologetic smile.
"Oh, hush, young lady. And how many times should I tell you not to call me Ma'am? I'm Rose to you, or in two months, Mom," his mother told her.
"Okay, Mom," he finally stood up and put his hands on his mother's shoulders. "Please don't stress too much about it. Take a day off or two, have a day out with Mrs. Gibbs, anything. Clara and I will take care of this day while you have fun and then you can go back with the wedding arrangements and everything. Okay?"
His mother sighed, before nodding and he wrapped his arms around the woman that brought him to the world almost thirty-one years ago, the woman who helped him find his one true love, the woman who told him to hold on and have faith with his true love when he felt like giving up.
"Thanks, Mom," he whispered, and his mother knew that there were deeper meaning into his word.
He was left with his fiancée alone in his noticeably small apartment, the beautiful woman who had a gleam in her eyes as she stared up at him.
"Ready to do some work?" she asked, a mischievous smile shining bright in her eyes and on her soft lips-the ones he was oh-so itching to touch with his own.
He put his arms around her waist, pulling her closer into him. "Yep. I'm so ready to do some... work."
When their lips finally met, fireworks were blasting off everywhere, even brighter than the ones that were on the day when he had proposed to her. Every kisses felt like their first time, no matter how many years they had spent together since the first night they had laid eyes on each other. The two managed to walk into his bedroom while still tangled with each other, and he threw them both onto his mattress that was made for one man to sleep in.
And that was why he preferred to spend time in her apartment rather than his own.
Her fingers found the button of his jeans, and he threw her blouse over her head with ease while still attached to each other's bodies. Soon he was planting his gentle lips on her neck, and her fingers were tangled in his mess of a hair.
"I love you."
"I love you more."
They let the spring breeze of April be the witness of the proof of their love that day. Yes, the one love that would stay forever and ever until the day they died.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
