Now that it was done, the wedding, Emily thought maybe she could get something done.
"But we're on our honeymoon," Archie said. At least he looked better now, and she had him slathered in sun screen. Really, he was her baby. She had to accept that fact. But she was not going to cut his meat up for him.
As it was she was busy looking through catalogues about things they should have at their new place which possibly needed as much flipping as his parent's home.
"We should be home, painting." She told him.
"That'll come later." He took the catalogue from her. "Haven't you had enough of that? We did watch Design Star last night on HGTV. We know who won."
"I didn't want that guy to win." She looked up at him.
"Well, like either one of them is going to show up at our place and tell us what we need to do. Forget about this stuff." She notice a different pitch in his voice. What was that suppose to mean? She looked at him. He pulled her toward him. After all they were by the ocean. You could hear the waves from here. "Lets have some fun." He wouldn't say sex, and didn't say love, but she got the jest of it when he kissed her.
They strolled along the beach then, and she wished she'd had a chance to put her hair up, but it would have probably whipped out of a ponytail. She looked at him wondering if she was spoiling this occasion for him. She promised herself she wouldn't. But how come everything had to be so overwhelming to her, and she could never decide what to do first.
OK, so maybe having the TV on with Martha Stewart while having intercourse, possibly was not a good thing. It wasn't until then, after he turned off the TV and put on a CD, that she figure out how amazing Archie could be in bed if he was listening to the Gorillaz. Or maybe it was her. He said it was her. Then they had quite a discussion about that which was defeating the purpose. So finally they put the CD back on and went back at it for at least three more songs. That was last night. And today had started off with a rough beginning. She would have thought as long as she'd known him, they'd have all this figured out.
"You were never like this at home." He told her now on their walk. "It was like you wanted your mother to hear everything we did in your room. I knew you were faking it, most times." He confessed.
"I was not." She scowled.
"I barely let out a sigh, and you're all, don't do that, somebody can hear us," he winced. "We're in a bungalow, for Christ's sakes." Of course, they wouldn't have had the place if it hadn't been for someone that he worked with who said they could use it for a week in the Carribean. It was a rather band-aid budget of a honeymoon and yet they'd made it out of the country.
"Why are you so scared?" He wanted to know. "Are you afraid I can't take care of you?"
She didn't want to hear that.
"Come on, lets go into the ocean." He pulled her toward the waves. "Its not like I'm going to take you scuba diving and let the sharks have at you."
She hesitated. Yes, the ocean made her nervous. It was so unknown to her, especially, living in the Midwest.
"Lets go back to our room." She told him even lipped, but he pulled her toward the water.
"Aw, you don't trust me." His impish grin didn't help much.
"Well, you're not exactly Michael Phelps, you know."
"Hahaha, you're still teasing me about that. That old lady at the airport. She thought I was. She even said I was better looking than him." He grinned, tugging her toward him, backing into the waves.
She closed her eyes. Maybe if she thought he was Michael Phelps, then she could get through this. She knew what he really wanted. It was their little secret. And what stayed in the ocean would probably get washed up on the sand, sooner or later.