Bankers' Hours(37)

"He had an issue. I was trying to be supportive."

"What about me? Didn't you think that I'd be waiting by my phone? I sent  six bouquets, Grant, not one, but six. I thought maybe you hated them  and I was stupid for even considering it."

"It's not stupid."

"Oh, no? Then I guess your conversation with your best friend was more  important than your boyfriend, or soon-to-be husband." Tristan got off  the bed and walked over to "his" side. He got in and pulled the sheets  up, rolling onto his side away from me.

He was really upset about it. I quickly brushed my teeth and returned to  bed. I scooted up behind him and stared at his back-it was like a  gigantic, tan, muscular wall, intricately carved with black lines. I had  briefly seen the tattoo of a dragon that covered most of his back, but I  hadn't had a chance to study it until now. I traced my fingers over his  scapula where the great beast's eyes were. Tristan wiggled. I wasn't  sure if it was a wiggle to get away or an I-like-this wiggle, but I did  it again. I kissed where my fingers touched, his skin warm against my  lips as I trailed kisses down part of the dragon's wing.

I scooted closer and lifted up on one elbow, kissing his neck, behind  his ear, and his bald head. It felt weird kissing his scalp, but as I  hadn't kissed anyone's hair except Mel's, I couldn't compare the  feeling. I rested my hand on his shoulder and whispered, "I'm sorry."

He didn't say anything, but he touched my hand and then tried pulling my  arm across his chest. My arms weren't long enough to comfortably drape  over his shoulder, so I suggested, "Here, let me try spooning you this  time."

I slid down behind him and pressed my body against his with my face  tucked by his neck. Tristan quickly grabbed on to my arm as I slipped it  around his waist. The position wasn't exactly uncomfortable, since we  were only separated by a few inches in height, but he was bigger, and I  felt like I was wrapping a stick figure around a sumo wrestler. That was  a bad analogy, though, and I was glad he couldn't read my mind, because  he wasn't fat-he was simply larger than me.

He whispered, "Press your dick against my ass."

Not exactly something anyone else had ever suggested. I immediately got  self-conscious. I wasn't hard, but of course I was getting there  thinking about what he wanted me to do. Would he feel me? I was not  endowed. I realigned my body and pushed my hips forward, pressing myself  against his ass.

Tristan grunted.

When he said nothing further, I was forced to ask, "Was that a good  grunt, or a bad grunt? I couldn't tell. Can you even feel me?" I nudged  forward again to emphasis my question.

He grunted again, closer to a moan. "I feel you, baby, and it's real  good." He reached behind him with his long arms and grabbed my ass,  pulling me tight against his rear. "You feel real good," he reiterated.

I was trying to relax and go with it, but he was squeezing my ass and I couldn't calm myself down.

Tristan let go and instructed, "Roll over."

I wasn't sure why. I thought he'd liked me nudging my groin against him.  I did as asked, and Tristan rolled over with me. He spooned me like he  had done before, pressing his seal club into my butt and wrapping his  long arm over my chest. I felt his breath on my ear.

"Calm down, Grant. Just go to sleep."

"You're not mad?"

"It's the first time I've ever sent someone flowers. Your reaction was  not what I'd hoped for, but I'm sure the next time, you'll at least say  thank you."

One tear slipped from my eye. I'd been a dick. Not the first time, and  probably not the last, but I hated the sound of his voice. I rubbed his  arm and held it securely.

"Grant?" he whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for going shirtless."

I smiled. I knew everything would be okay.





Chapter 10: Need, Want, And Fearing The Things I've Never Done





I WOKE up and Tristan was gone. I panicked slightly but spied a note on my dresser.



Grant,

I left because it's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding …  or  some shit like that. I'll meet you at the courthouse at 8:15. I'm not  mad. I want to marry you.                       
       
           



       

~T

P.S. Sorry about the sheet. I had a wicked wet dream about you last night.



I walked back to my bed and inspected the sheet. It was dry, but I could  see the spot he referred to. I rather enjoyed knowing he dreamed about  me so vividly, since I dreamed about him all the time. I pulled the  sheets off after tossing the pillows aside and remade the bed. I  couldn't leave it until after work.

I walked into the kitchen, and it hit me. "Holy shit, I'm getting  married this morning." I tried my best to remain calm as I ate some  cereal and made my lunch for work, but my nerves were jumping. I took a  shower, only to stare at the cowlick in my hair afterward as I combed  it. "Seriously?" I asked my hair. "Of all the days for you to decide to  look like Alfalfa."

I was admittedly too young to have watched Our Gang when it was  originally on television, but when I had lived with my mom she had often  watched reruns of very old black-and-white shows like Our Gang, The  Andy Griffith Show, and The Munsters. I thought they were funny, so I  had never minded watching with Mom. Now, though, I didn't want to look  like the kid with the single clump of hair standing straight up on the  top of his head. I was getting married!

I did what I had to do to fix my hair and went to the closet.

I donned the shirt Tristan had picked out. It was white with thick blue  pinstripes. A very different look for me, but it matched so well with  the sports jacket I had also bought that I was very pleased. Moreover,  my new shirt matched the navy blue shirt Tristan had picked out, which  meant the pictures we took together after the ceremony would look nice.

Deep breath. I left my house, got in my car, and met Tristan at the courthouse.





THE CEREMONY took ten minutes, and the pictures took two. In no time, we  were back in the parking lot standing next to my car. I stared at  Tristan, and he stared back. It was obvious neither one of us knew what  to say. I swallowed and took a stab first. "Um, I guess that's it." The  whole thing seemed anticlimactic.

"Yeah," he responded slowly. I never thought one word could be drawn out  so far, but it was as if he couldn't form any other words.

"Yeah," I agreed, tapping the tips of my fingers together and mentally  registering the added weight of the rings on my left hand. It wasn't  much, but enough to remind me of their presence without looking.

He must have caught my fidgeting, because he took my hands in his and  said, "I'm glad we did this. I'm sure once we settle into the idea, this  marriage won't sound so preposterous."

"Yeah, you're right." Was he? We had sort of done it to prove a point to  his baby momma. That probably wasn't the worst reason in history to get  married, but I'd bet it was up there.

"I've gotta get to work and change. How about we go out to dinner tonight. Your choice."

I thought it over. We hadn't gone to dinner except for the one time when  I had spilled my drink on him. Dinner could be nice. "Okay," I agreed.

"I'll pick you up."

"Okay."

Tristan brushed my lips with his and caressed my cheek before sighing  and running his hand over my hair. He paused and pulled my head down  gently. "Um, what's this?" he asked, pulling the pin from my hair. "Is  this a bobby pin?" He eyed it curiously.

"Yeah. My hair wouldn't cooperate this morning."

Tristan chuckled. "You're adorable." He kissed me again and then handed  over the pin. "I'm going. I'll see you later." Tristan turned and walked  to his truck, parked two spaces down. He grinned and waved at me from  the driver's seat before driving away.

I got to work early, so I had a few nervous minutes to relive the simple  vows in my head. We had promised to love and care for one another. We  had promised to support one another and respect one another. I had  pledged my life to Tristan Carr; I was his husband, and he was mine. I  should probably inform my mother.

I needed Alka-Seltzer.





AT THE bank, I went right to my work window in my "cubicle away from  home." I straightened everything, aligned my deposit slips, and made  sure my pens were all facing down. My eyes caught sight of the rings on  my hand, and for a moment I stared at the diamond. It sparkled. I turned  my hand and tilted it so the light caught in the stone at several  angles. Something inside caught, like my breath hitching, but not. It  was that feeling when you want to sob, but your eyes haven't quite  watered. My whole chest seized. I was married.

"Good morning, dear one," Mrs. Snyder said in a sultry voice.

I jumped and pulled my hand down to my side. As she explained her  deposit and subsequent transfer, I used my thumb to slide my ring around  backward, hiding the diamond inside my fist. "No problem," I said with a  smile. I took her stack of money and checks and turned to enter them  in.