Page 1 of Selfish Desires

“Do people really fuck on their wedding night?” Vincent asked, watching the happy couple on the altar.

“Vincent.” I squeezed his tense, muscled forearm under his dinner jacket. “Don't even start with this now.” My eyes search the hundreds of guests in attendance watching our best friends exchange vows.

“I just did, baby.” Vincent popped his eyebrows, sucking his bottom lip through his perfect white teeth, and planted a quick wet kiss against my slightly parted mouth. “And if you're wondering, I'd totally fuck on our wedding night.”

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride,” announced the potbelly, white-haired priest. As I looked around, everything and everyone was dressed in white or black. It was one of those weddings where the hosts requested two things: you wore two shades, no color allowed.

I wore a black sequin, low back, high slit gown, while Vincent donned a white dinner jacket over a sharply fitted tuxedo. Of course, he couldn't settle on one option. He always had to be the one to make everything work, while I marveled at his efforts from a distance.

Distant.

That word clung to my brain like a nasty magnet with spikes lately.

As Zachary and Blair kissed, bringing a close to the ceremony, all four hundred attendees cheered, whistled, and even threw silver glittery confetti in the air. Vincent simply clapped, and my hands squeezed Vincent's corded forearm.

“Isn't it so sweet?” I whispered into Vincent's ear.

“It's to be expected.” He glanced at me, his jawline never looking so square.

I jabbed him in the ribs.

“Hey, careful. I bruise easily.” Vincent winked at me.

I rubbed his side, nestling into his embrace. “Isn't it crazy they're married?” I motioned to Zachary and Blair, watching their lingering kiss until they broke apart and skipped down the aisle, hand in hand.

“I still can't believe you weren't maid of honor and I the best man.” Vincent clicked his jaw. “I can't believe no one stood up there with them. Other than Amanda, of course. She's a good kid.” He nodded.

“Believe me.” I rolled my eyes. “Neither can Blair's mother.”

Vincent chuckled, a deep, rich sound that hadn't lost any of its charm after all this time. It was his sound. My sound. He drew me close, his arm encircling my waist. The heat pouring from his body seeped into my skin, an old and familiar sensation.

“And so what will we do now?” Vincent asked, looking down at me as the married couple disappeared out of view, leaving only a scattering of confetti behind. His eyes were dark like a moonless sky, and my heart ached at seeing them.

“Um, I think it's time to party?” I giggled as Vincent buried his nose in the crook of my neck.

“You still smell like roses,” he whispered into my hair.

“And I probably always will as long as I keep using this shampoo.”

Vincent threw his head back, laughing. “Come on, babe.” He laced his thick fingers with mine. “Let's go party with the lovebirds.”

Walking toward the reception area, I noticed how the old wooden floor creaked under Vincent's weight, teasing a history that only it knew. The hall was adorned with tall, elegant chandeliers dripping with crystals that caught the light and scattered gold rays across the room. The band had already started playing, and I could hear a guitar's faint strum, a drum's teasing rhythm, and the sweet melody of a violin blending into a coherent symphony.

The crowd was moving in fluid waves, their bodies undulating to the rhythm of the music. Zachary and Blair were in their own world on the dance floor, holding each other as they swayed.

“Vincent.” I pulled his arm to get his attention. “Dance with me.”

He peered at the dozens of young and old couples on the dance floor, swaying to the first dance. “Sure, let's do it.” Vincent outstretched his hand, and I took it, falling into his body as we joined the throngs of people in love on the white illuminated squares.

The world dissolved around us as Vincent's arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me close. His body was a pillar of strength against the sway of the crowd. I could feel every muscle in his body tensing and relaxing with our movement. His heart beat steadily against my ear, pumping a rhythm that echoed in my chest. The music weaved its magic around us, drawing us into its enchanting spell.

My eyes moved to Vincent's face, and I frowned at his scrunched brow. “What's wrong, baby?”

“Hm?” The distraction pooled his orbs. “Oh, nothing. I just hope I get to talk to Zachary tonight.”

“Of course you will.” I chuckled. “The party just started.”

“Did you ever watch Father of The Bride? The remake with Steve Martin.”

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