Chapter 2: Wedding Night

On my wedding night with Caleb,

My nerves were a mess. I knocked back more than half a bottle of cheap Chardonnay, desperate for some liquid courage.

The alcohol hit fast, making my cheeks flush bright red.

Even as I tried to act casual, my heart was pounding so loud I was sure he could hear it. The hotel suite was quiet except for the distant hum of traffic outside. The faint scent of lemon cleaner lingered in the air, mixing with the cotton of the sheets. Only a single lamp lit the room, casting soft shadows across the walls.

Caleb’s long, slender fingers supported the back of my neck, his gentle kisses trailing down my skin.

His touch was careful—almost reverent, like he was afraid I’d disappear if he pressed too hard. His cologne was sharp and clean, the one he wore only on special occasions.

"You’ve been drinking. Should I keep going?" he asked.

His voice was velvet-smooth, the kind that could talk you into anything—or out of it.

I managed a soft, low "Mm..." from my throat.

The sound surprised me. I sounded braver than I felt, but I didn't dare look him in the eyes.

But inside, I couldn't help thinking:

Even at a time like this, Caleb is still so cool and restrained.

He moved with this casual grace, never hurried, like he had all the time in the world. Even the way he took off his cufflinks seemed effortless.

Well, that’s to be expected. After all, our engagement was just a family arrangement.

A wave of melancholy rolled over me. This wasn’t the love story I’d dreamed of, but it was the one I’d been given. Maybe that counted for something.

But soon, I had no mind for further thought.

The wine did its work. The soft sheets, the scent of clean cotton, and the warmth of Caleb’s hands pulled me out of my worries and into the moment.

My white wedding dress was half removed.

It pooled around my waist in a frothy tumble, the satin catching the light. I clung to the sensation, wanting to remember it all—just in case it never happened again.

The moment my skin touched the air, I shivered involuntarily.

Goosebumps rose on my arms. Caleb paused, his eyes searching mine, and for a heartbeat I thought I saw something vulnerable flicker there.

Caleb, meanwhile, had only unbuttoned two buttons of his shirt.

Always the gentleman, always in control. His shirt hung open just enough to tease, to hint at secrets I’d barely dared imagine.

His tie hung loosely around his neck, exposing his tanned skin and the faint outline of his firm chest muscles, rising and falling with each breath.

The contrast between his careful composure and the mess of my own feelings almost made me laugh. I wanted to reach out, to feel the warmth beneath the fabric.

I stared until my mouth went dry and my tongue felt parched.

My lips parted, words catching on the tip of my tongue.

"Caleb..."

His name felt strange and precious on my lips. Like a secret I’d finally dared to say out loud.

He chuckled softly, as if to comfort me.

His laughter was low and warm, the kind that could melt away tension. For a moment, it felt like we were the only two people in the world.

"Natalie, don’t be nervous."

He squeezed my hand, his thumb tracing circles over my knuckles. That tiny gesture anchored me.

Caleb gently pinned me to the edge of the hotel bed with one hand.

His movements were firm but never forceful—a strange mix of tenderness and authority. The mattress dipped beneath us, and I felt like I was floating.

He half-knelt on the floor, looked up, and without warning, kissed the red mole on my skin.

His lips were warm and soft. I’d never felt so seen, so known. My breath hitched in my throat.

His deep, husky voice, warm breath brushing past my ear.

Every word vibrated against my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

"If you want me to stop, just say the word, okay?"

His words were a lifeline. In a world full of uncertainty, Caleb’s respect felt like the truest intimacy.

Suddenly, I gripped his messy dark hair tightly.

I couldn’t help it—my fingers wound through his hair, clinging to him like he was the last solid thing in my universe.

How do I describe the feeling of marrying Caleb?

It was like looking up and suddenly seeing the Northern Lights—surprising and unreal.

I’d grown up hearing about those rare, breathtaking moments that sneak up on you in the most ordinary places. This was mine.

But I wanted to hold on to Caleb tightly.

If there was ever a moment to be brave, this was it. I anchored myself to him, heart and soul.

As for what happened after that—

It’s a haze of sensation, blurred around the edges. The kind of memory you can only catch glimpses of when you close your eyes.

Maybe it was the alcohol, but my memory is fuzzy.

I remember laughter, whispered promises, the feel of his breath on my cheek. The room spun gently, like we were on a carousel that only we could ride.

All I remember is that when I got up the next morning, my legs were so weak I nearly fell.

Even the sunshine streaming through the window felt heavy on my skin. I gripped the edge of the bathroom sink, staring at my reflection, disbelieving. The cheap little bar of hotel soap sat untouched, but I clung to the sink like it was a life raft.

And also—

A blush crept up my neck as I remembered Caleb’s quiet focus, the way he watched me with something like awe.

Caleb, of course, wanted to schedule our sex life like a Google Calendar event. "Five times a week?" he asked, dead serious.

It was so him—practical, considerate, never skipping the details.

"...Five times a week?"

He said it so matter-of-factly, as if we were discussing the grocery list.

My drifting mind returned just in time to catch his last words.

I blinked, convinced I’d misheard. Surely he was joking?

My eyes widened instantly.

"Five times?"

My voice came out a squeak. I didn’t mean for it to, but I couldn’t help it.

Caleb glanced at me, then changed his answer without missing a beat:

"Then, two times a week."

He didn’t even crack a smile. If nothing else, my husband was a master of negotiation.