The first real weekend of our married life arrived wrapped in rain.
Thick gray clouds hung low over the city, turning the apartment into a private world of soft light and slower time. I woke to the gentle drag of John’s fingertips tracing the curve of my spine, his lips pressing warm, open-mouthed kisses along the back of my shoulder. No urgency. No filthy demands. Just the quiet, reverent exploration of a man who finally had forever.
“Stay in bed with me,” he murmured against my skin. “All day. No meetings. No interviews. Just my wife and the rain.”
I rolled over to face him. His dark hair was messy, eyes soft in a way that still made my chest ache. The platinum band on his finger caught the muted morning light as he brushed a strand of hair from my cheek.
“You’re being romantic,” I w
