I rolled over onto my side and looked at him. “Is that all it was?”
He kept his eyes on the ceiling. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, this wasn’t just some whim, was it?”
He looked mildly uncomfortable with my questioning, but he finally answered. “No. Why, does that bother you?”
“Not at all,” I said. “Obviously.”
He smiled. “Sometimes people don’t really…like what they like,” he said. “If that makes any sense.”
“It does.”
I slept much more easily that night, curled up in Daniel’s embrace. The next day of astronaut training promised to be more exciting - zero gravity simulations and practice launches, everything we’d need to prepare for the “moon landing” at the end of it. If Sam noticed we were more relaxed and happy around each other, laughing and touching and exchanging little glances more like a real couple, she didn’t show any sign of it.
It was great fun. I didn’t even get sick in the motion simulators. I could have sworn Daniel was having almost as good of a time as I was, and by the time we got back to the hotel I had almost succeeded in forgetting that he wasn’t really my husband.
At dinner, the subject didn’t even come up. It was unusual for us to get through an entire conversation without someone even alluding to our arrangement, but we both seemed content to ignore it for now. I wasn’t sure if that was a good plan, in the long term. In fact, I knew it wasn’t. But just for the honeymoon, I didn’t care.
I’d assumed we would be gone for whole week at least, but Daniel told me that three days was the longest he could be away from work. I wasn’t too happy about the idea of our time being cut short - especially if it meant things between us were going to change. But there was no use in thinking about that now.
Instead, I focused on what we did have. Even after just a few days, I’d grown used to waking up beside him, seeing him while his eyes were still unfocused and his hair was askew. I’d always thought it was ridiculously corny when people talked about how someone could be more attractive when they were groggy and unkempt, but now, I understood. There was nothing intimidating about him when he’d first woken up - everything from his slightly puffy eyes to his sleepy, crooked smile was downright approachable, and I never thought I’d say that about a man like Mr. Thorne.
On the last day, it was time for my “moon landing.” I was strangely giddy about it, maybe because it was something to focus on besides the reality of our honeymoon ending. After a simulated launch and orbit - during which I admittedly did open a bag of Funyuns and then try to catch them all in my mouth - it was time.
They had outfitted a whole room to appear like the moon’s surface, with walls and ceilings speckled with stars, and an image of the earth on one side. The suits we were wearing were heavy and uncomfortable, though certainly not as bad as the real thing. I resisted the urge to quote Neil Armstrong as I stepped out onto the rocky surface.
If I stood there for long enough, I could almost convince myself it was real.
It wasn’t, of course - much like my marriage to the man who was currently hopping back towards the lunar lander.
We had to catch a flight early the next morning, but once we got back to the hotel, it was clear that neither one of us felt like sleeping. It started with a smile, on his part - a crooked little number with a secret meaning that I now understood. Next thing I knew he was nibbling on my ear and telling me I’d been bad, which I wasn’t sure I had been, but his voice was playful and I didn’t really mind in the least.
“Bad girls get spankings,” he said, and I cooed.
I stretched out over his lap, arching my back. I’d had boyfriends spank me playfully before, and I’d always found it gave me a pleasant tingle. But I’d always been too shy to ask for more. His hand was warm and strong, and even though it stung, the hits reverberated in my core, turning it molten-hot, making me quiver. I was moaning for him by the time he flipped me over and took me hard and fast, slapping his hand over my mouth when I got too loud.
It was hot, quick, and explosive. I thought that would be it for the night, but a little while later, after we’d ordered a snack from room service, he wanted it again - sweet and slow now, taking our time. When we finally went to sleep, I swear the sky was starting to lighten.
*
The next morning, he was very quiet. We packed slowly, and I didn’t bother trying to engage him in conversation. I slept for most of the plane ride, again, and after we got into our taxi back home, I remembered that I wouldn’t be going back to my apartment.