Page 41 of All In
We were both there with friends, touring the micro-brewery. During the whole tour, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. Don’t ask me how to make beer. I have no clue. But I can tell you what Erica was wearing that day. Denim shorts frayed on the ends, a skintight red tank top, and Doc Martens. She was tan, irresistible, and took my breath away. After the tour, I made sure to sit by her at the tasting table. We connected instantly, and the conversation continued at the bar, then at her place. It was the first time since Maria that I looked at a woman with lust and desire. This goes way beyond attraction.
And it felt amazing. Almost like a drug.
And let me tell you, she is the anti-Maria. Exactly what I need in my life right now. Maria is soft, whereas Erica is rough and hard. Maria is a planner and overthinker. Erica is spontaneous and borderline dangerous. Maria has green eyes, she’s tall, with long blonde hair. Erica’s eyes are almost black. She is shorter, with a dark brown pixie cut, which sometimes is purple.
And she has her faults. Mainly, too much alcohol. Okay … a lot of alcohol. Her third beer is resting right in front of her, almost empty.
Her adventurous side is the reason I have blurted this out right here in the middle of this restaurant. I fell hard and fast for Erica. Mostly because of what she brings to my life. A life so different from the one I had in Ohio.
Do I love her? Ithinkso. Yes. Yes, I love her.
The love I feel (or think I feel) for Erica is new and fresh. It’s like reckless abandonment. We have so much fun together, it’s ridiculous. Granted, most of that fun is attached to alcohol and the bustling energy of our favorite bar in town, Morning Ale.
But this desire to start from scratch and begin a whole new life is pulling me toward Erica. And by pull, apparently, I mean asking her to marry me.
Add given what happened on 9/11, it feels like the entire world is changing. So, I might as well change with it.
Plus, Maria decided to drive a wedge between us via a wedding ring. So, why shouldn’t I do the same?
“Look, I know it sounds crazy,” I continue. “But we connected so quickly.”
“Is that what that day in the brewery was?” she asks, raising her eyebrow, her question dripping in sarcasm.
That first meeting was … something. Electric sounds like a good word.
I reach for her from across the table. Her dainty hand with chipped black-painted fingernails intertwine with mine as soon as we touch.
“I love you, Erica. And I feel like there isn’t a reason to wait. We’ve talked about it.” She nods her head in agreement. Heck, we talked about spending our lives together and what adventures we could have after only one week together. (How a wild life will fit into my career path as a psychologist? No clue. I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.)
I press on because she is chewing on her bottom lip. This is something she does when she has some kind of hair-brained idea that normally ends with us hungover the next day. “I am at your place almost every day, anyway. We spend pretty much every waking moment together. We have so much fun, it should be illegal.” She laughs at this one.
I pull her hand up to my lips and kiss her knuckles as I stare into her eyes. Both of us letting the enormity of the moment sink in. “I don’t have a ring.”
“I don’t need one,” she counters, her lips ticking up into a sly smile.
With a playful grin, I run my thumb gently across her left ring finger, noticing the soft feel of her skin. As I stare at her hand, I find it difficult to make eye contact when I finally gather the nerve to ask. So, I don’t. “What do you say? Erica Richards, will you be my wife?”
This isn’t who I planned on asking. This isn’t who I wanted to spend my life with.
But life had other plans. And I want—no, I need—a different life. And I could have that with Erica.
I raise my gaze to meet hers, holding my breath as I do.
“Yes, Sam. I will absolutely marry you.”
See, here’s the thing with Erica. Once she gets something in her head, she wants to act on it. ASAP.
Which means we got married the next week. On a Tuesday, no less.
Total insanity.
Big C and Jasmine were there as our witnesses. It was at the historic courthouse in downtown Atlanta. Not my first choice, but, hey. This is new to me.
My mom wasn’t happy about it all, and honestly, I have barely spoken to her about it. Truthfully, I don’t want to hear what I know she is going to say. And I know she’ll be right.
Since nothing about this whole marriage is traditional, Erica wore black pants with the skintight black lace top that I love. I wore my best khakis with a button-down black shirt.
Yep, we got married wearing black. Total insanity. Erica reminded me that it’s not the color of the clothes but the meaning behind the day. She’s right.
