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The heavy rain thrashes against the large pane window with every new gust of wind. Joel sits in front of it, settled on his worn couch on the cushion that has a groove of his ass from use over the years. Head leaned back, palms pressed to his eyes, he takes a few deep breaths as the rain is adding to his anxiety more than soothing it like it normally would.
He hasn’t even bothered to turn on the lights. The day is heavy enough, illuminating the empty house just seems cruel. But maybe he deserves that.
With Sarah at his parents’ house for the weekend, there’s nothing to distract him. His anxiety is growing with every audible tick of the clock. The urge to claw his skin off as he feels so unsettled no matter how many deep breaths he takes.
Against knowing better, he chances a glance at the time.
Forty minutes.
You’ve officially been married for forty minutes.
To a man that isn’t him.
As he takes a sip of the whiskey from his favorite mug, the one that still sits next to yours in the cabinet, he hears a knock on the front door. It’s just once, until he puts the mug down and starts heading for it, then it’s a rapid string of four knocks.
“Alright, alright,” he mumbles under his breath as he reaches out and grabs the doorknob.
He barely registers the taxi pulling away from the curb because standing in front of him in a sinfully gorgeous white wedding dress, drenched from the short run in the downpour, is you.
Shivering, with one hand gripping the heft of the dress’ train, you look at him with an almost annoyed expression, “Where were you?”
Confusion is not enough of a word to explain Joel’s feelings at the moment, his brows knitted at your question while the protective side of him quickly takes in your wet state and grabs your arm to pull you inside.
“Jesus Christ, you’re goin’ get sick,” he quickly takes off the flannel he was wearing over his t-shirt and brings it around your shoulders, rubbing your upper arms, “What the hell you doin’ here?”
You hastily bat his arms away and he drops them to his sides with a huff.
Wiping wet strands of hair from your cheek, “You were supposed to be there! You were supposed to show up.”
There’s a slump to his shoulders as he softly reminds you, “Sweetheart, I wasn’t invited.” The term of endearment slipping out so easily when you’re right in front of him again after so long.
Mutual friends had received an invitation and had to be the ones to break the news to him. Not even Tommy was invited, he figured because you didn’t want any kind of connection to him to be in attendance.
“Because he wouldn’t let me,” your lower lip trembles, defeat obvious in your tone, and Joel fights the urge to reach out and touch your face in comfort.
Still shivering, you yank your arms through the sleeves of his flannel, the cuffs falling well below your hands. It doesn’t stop you from giving his chest a shove, one that doesn’t budge him at all but he absorbs your frustration happily because to feel your hands on him in any way again is worth it.
The fight drains out of you as you take a shuddering sigh, holding back the flood of tears that are fighting to be let go.
Looking at him, “I was up there with him, looking at him, and I felt nothing. I haven’t felt something with him in a long time. If ever, if I’m being honest. And then the officiant said that part, the part where if anyone objects to the marriage to say something,” tears fill your eyes and Joel’s gaze softens, “All I wanted was for you to come rushing in and tell me not to do it. Tell me that we made a mistake. Tell me that we have a future together.”
Joel takes a couple tentative steps closer as his heart aches at seeing you emotional, especially when it’s because of something he did – or in this case, didn’t do. Despite every nerve in his body telling him to touch you in some way, to comfort you like he used to, you’re still standing here in a wedding dress. A clear reminder that you’re not his.
Wiping at your cheeks that are wet from both the rain and now fresh tears, “The way my heart sank when you didn’t show up,” you confess in a whisper.
Swallowing, he takes another couple steps forward. His fingers twitch, one fist opening and closing slowly as he fights back the urge to reach out for you.
“I thought you were happy. Last thing I’d want to do is ruin that for you…no matter how fuckin’ bad I miss you. Baby, I just want you happy,” he explains with the tenderness of the man you remember and miss excruciatingly.
“Joel,” hearing his name come from your sweet lips again is like seeing a rainbow after a rainstorm, “The last time I was happy was when I was with you.”
Your confession hits him deep in his chest. Every minute he missed you, you had been missing him too. The constant feel of failure at losing you, it seems safe to assume you were feeling something nearly as dreadful.
The whole day felt like a funeral for him. The final nail in the coffin of a possible life with the woman he loved with every single part of him. Only to have that very same woman come looking for him on the day he was set to lose her completely.
Fuck it.
It’ll be hard to remember who took the first step because in the blink of an eye, your bodies are wrapped up in one another. Joel’s warm palm moves seamlessly to cradle your cheek as his arm curls around your waist while you anchor yourself to him with your arms slipped under his - hands clutching at his broad, muscled back. As his lips cover yours, it feels like coming home. A comfortable warmth you haven’t experienced in too long consumes your entire being. Your body lights up as if it recognizes Joel’s skin against your own – remembers how indescribable it feel to be intimate with the man you really love.
The kiss is hurried at first – as if maybe this was a dream and you were set to disappear at any second. Teeth clash and lips are nipped, but you take it all to have him in your arms again. The arm at your waist shifts and his hand glides along to your lower back before it smooths down to cup your ass through the beaded fabric of your dress. It has you letting out a small gasp which Joel takes advantage of as his tongue slips past your berry painted lips.
You drag your nails down his back, hands sliding to clutch at his denim-clad hips as you taste the whiskey fresh on his tongue. Joel’s lips drag from yours, smudging your lipstick as he moves his wet, desperate kisses along your jaw and down your neck. You slip your fingertips under the back of his shirt and now drag your nails up the length of his spine before pressing your palms to heat of his skin. The way the small whine of his name that slips from your lips has him desperately tasting your mouth again.
But the whine soon turns to a small sob and Joel cups your face as he pulls away, concerned eyes landing on your teary ones.
“I left him. We never made it to the end of the ceremony. I just want to come home, Joel. Can we stop being stupid and finally have our happy ending?”
It’s the most loving kiss you’ve had in too long when Joel tips your chin and slots his mouth over yours, “I’ll take you down to city hall right now and marry you,” he promises against your lips.
A hum from your throat when your fingers curl around his wrists and you guide his face away from yours, “No more weddings today. Whenever we get married, it’ll be our own. Not a second-hand ceremony from a disastrous relationship.”
The curve of his lips has you easily mirror them, “We’ll do it however you want.”
Arms slipping around his neck, you press against his chest as you delicately press your lips to his. Joel slips his hand into your wet hair, gripping just enough as he opens his mouth more against yours. There’s just a small taste of his tongue again before he weakens your knees by how soft he’s loving on you now. The comforting kisses you’ve missed with the simmering heat that you only could dream of for awhile.
Fingertips lazily twirling around the curls at the nape of his neck, you ask between kisses, “Unzip the back of my dress? I don’t want any reminders from today.”
The hem of the flannel draped on your body gets lifted as he blindly skims the teeth of the zipper until he finds the small tab at the top. As he pulls it down and the zipper separates in two, each inch feels like freedom beyond the release of the fabric. Wordlessly, his fingers curl around each open edge and pull towards your sides, but you have to pull each arm free from the flannel before the dress can drop to your ankles. Joel steps back at the weight of the dress at his feet, too, and he watches as you pull your arms back through the sleeves of his shirt. Adorning your beautiful figure is an unbelievably sexy, navy blue lingerie set. The bra unlined, the lace fabric giving such an elegant appearance as it cups your breasts so lusciously. The matching panties adding to the entire look. And to have you standing there in front of him again, just as sexy as he remembered and now draped in his shirt – it’s a vision he won’t forget for a very long time.
The back of Joel’s fingers skim across your breast, his knuckles brushing against your pebbled nipple, “He see you in this?”
Shaking your head, “No, I didn’t even buy it for him.”
Brows furrowed, he looks to you for more information.
“I didn’t care what he thought. I only bought it because I thought about how much you’d have loved it.”
His hands slip inside the flannel and skim down your sides, your skin still cool from the rain, “I do love it. A lot,” he adds on as his glides his hands back up, thumbs brushing across the fabric that lays over your nipples.
A shiver runs through you and then his hands tenderly cup either side of your neck as his thumbs press against your jaw, tilting your face up as his dark eyes gaze into yours, “And I love you, sweetheart,” the tears forming in his eyes only making your own grow even faster.
There’s a tiny sob as you get to finally say it again to the man you were meant for, “Baby, I love you, too.”