Last night, Phillip held my face in his hands and looked me straight in the eyes. It was a little unnerving at first, but then he would kiss me and run his hands through my hair and tell me over and over how much he loved me.
And I wouldn’t say we had sex. I wouldn’t say we had make-up sex. I would say, for the first time in my life, I really understand the difference between having sex and making love.
Because I’m pretty sure that’s what we did.
Like, pretty much all night.
Slow, tender, amazing.
Phillip walks into the bedroom, coffee cups in hand. He grins at me. “I love what you’re wearing.”
“Phillip, I’m pretty sure I’m not wearing anything.” I can’t help but laugh.
’Cause I’m completely naked.
Shame on me.
He gently puts his finger on mine and tips my left hand up, so I can see that he snuck the engagement ring back on my finger while I was sleeping.
I smile what might be the biggest smile of my life. “I like what I’m wearing, too.”
He sits on the bed next to me and holds my hand up. “I want you to take a good look at this ring. This ring has nothing to do with the wedding, nothing to do with our commitments, none of that. This ring means one thing. That I love you. Promise me that, no matter what, no matter if we fight, no matter how hopeless things might feel, that you will look at this ring and know that, when you love someone, that’s all that really matters. That we’ll always figure it out together.”
“I promise,” I whisper as I pull him back into bed with me.
We walk into Pastor John’s office. I tightly squeeze Phillip’s hand. I’m mentally gearing up for a big fight.
We don’t sit down in his stupid chairs. We stand in front of his desk and rapidly take turns telling him all the reasons we don’t give a shit what he or anyone else thinks.
“We know all our answers are different,” Phillip says as he tosses our questionnaires on his desk.
“And we know we solve our conflicts with sex,” I say.
“And we know we spend too much time together.”
“And we know we’re not perfect. We might even be a little messed up.”
“But, when you put us together, we’re a perfect match,” Phillip says.
“And we love each other,” I say. “Deeply and passionately. And we don’t care what you or anyone else thinks. We’re getting married.”
Pastor John leans back in his chair and slowly claps his hands three times. “Bravo. Bravo.”
I’m instantly pissed. “Bravo?”
“This isn’t an act. We’re serious,” Phillip says. He’s pissed, too.
“I know you are,” the pastor replies. “And don’t move. I want you both to remember this moment forever. How it feels. The two of you. Hand in hand. Fighting against something you think is trying to tear you apart. I was playing devil’s advocate a bit. And, honestly, after last week—the way you argued, your body language—I didn’t think you’d make it. Thought you’d call off the wedding. What you’re going to face in life is going to be a whole lot harder than facing what you did with me. My job is to try to prepare you for that.
“I remember your parents’ funeral, JJ. It was the hardest one I’d ever done in my career. I was the same age as your parents and fresh out of school when I married yours, Phillip. I’d become friends with them. Watched you both grow. They were so proud of you both. I didn’t think I was going to make it through the service, but I looked out and saw you, JJ, standing there, in the pew. Your eyes were dry. Your chin was up. I saw such strength. I wondered what your parents had done that made you so strong at such a young age. But then I noticed you were tightly holding Phillip’s hand, just like you are now, and I knew where all that strength came from. It’s from each other. You get strength from each other.
“Whatever you face in life, I hope you face it like you are now. Hand in hand. United. If you do that, you’ll make it. You’ll have a wonderful marriage.”
I turn my head into Phillip’s chest and cry with relief.
“It’d also be my extreme honor to marry you.” Pastor John grins at us and holds up our save-the-date card. “I mean, you did give me an STD a couple of months ago; you kinda owe me.”
I squeeze Phillip’s side, and we can’t help it. We both start laughing.
