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The Last Morning Of My Honeymoon

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The last morning of our honeymoon, I rolled over in our bed, my hand flopping into the warm shaft of light splayed across the sheets. I opened my eyes and looked at the ring that now adorned my hand and smiled. One more thing needed to be done before my happily ever after would be complete. “Of course it’s what I want,” Garrett answered, his steady and sure voice coming clear through the dark. “But you’re worried about it. I can feel it.” I chewed my lip, glad for the darkness that he couldn’t see me, even if he knew me so well that he could feel my emotions before I displayed them. “Are you worried that I won’t be able to?” he asked, voicing my fear. “Yeah,” my voice shook with the beginning of the truth. “Why wouldn’t I be able to?” “What if her father wants her?” “He’s had four years to say so and hasn’t. Unless…” I felt the mattress shift with his body as he turned towards me. Thank goodness for the dark again so he couldn’t see the shame that distorted my face. “He doesn’t know, does he. Mikayla’s father doesn’t know about her,” he said calmly into the suddenly still air. “No, he doesn’t, and in all honesty, I’m not exactly sure who I would tell.” The confession hung in the air between us. I could feel him breathing it in, processing it, changing what he thinks and feels about me. “I know. I’m your wife. We should have had this conversation long before now, but I couldn’t. I’m sorry.” He remained silent and each second that was quiet between us, my heart thumped

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