A day at the beach

The sun, the sand, the salt spray. We got up early with not much in our heads but a morning on the beach. A quick breakfast (which you didn’t eat) and a change of clothes (I bit my knuckle when I saw you in your bikini) and we were out the door. The first thing I noticed that morning was you seemed a little distracted, like something was on your mind. I asked if you were worried about anything and you turned from your window to me, answering with a ready smile and shake of your head. 

Sometimes I have to pinch myself when I wake up next to you. Am I still dreaming? You lay next to me all night, yet I can’t believe you belong to me. I say those words to you often, but I’m not sure how it’s possible. My beautiful wife. I admire you so much, even with morning breath and hair askew. I don’t want anyone else. But something is off today. 

After we arrive at the beach and spread out, I go into the water and discover a few shells, which is my favorite thing to do there besides watch you. You join me and we embrace. I plant little kisses on your forehead and I see something in your eyes in that moment, even though they are hidden behind sunglasses. You have a secret. I feel a pang of panic, wondering what it could be. A coy smile graces your lips and you whisper something dirty in my ear. My heart races and I forget about what I saw in your eyes. 

I pull you out to deeper water and hold you close, my hands down your back, your thighs, your butt, and now they’re in your swimsuit, touching you. Your top lip curls in enjoyment, our eyes meeting again, but this time the secret in your eyes is gone. All I see is desire, laid bare and beautiful, like I can see directly into your soul. And what a beautiful soul it is. So strong, yet so soft. 

I am eternally taken by your beauty. Right now you are especially beautiful. I close my eyes and capture forever how you look. I release you and swim back to the beach and my towel, lean back, and close my eyes, soaking in the sun. This is where I stay until you come back to me and do the same. 

When it’s time to go, you seem more tired than usual. I realize you skipped two meals and me one, so I suggest we find something good on the way home. This suggestion sparks something in you. We are on our way. We find a cozy place to eat and order. When food arrives, you eat a few bites and look away, clearly bothered. I hold your hand and ask again what’s wrong. 

A tiny tear leaves the corner of your eye. You wipe it away quickly and muster the courage to speak. “I’m pregnant,” you say softly, and suddenly it makes sense why you couldn’t eat. I laugh and tell you it’s wonderful news. I want another just like you! Will you give me that? Now you are crying but not wiping away tears. I hug you and kiss away your tears. “We will do it together, please don’t worry.” But you aren’t worried. You’re just a little sick, happy, and relieved now because you didn’t know how to tell me such big news. I understand now. 

I ask for the check and pack you quickly into the car. The secret is gone from your eyes and was replaced by something I know so well. The look. I know that look. It says, “I want you to take me.” I can’t get you home fast enough. Why is there so much traffic? I want you now!

Lovemaking that day was different. It said something. It spoke for two souls. It said I stand with you, no matter what happens. Life changes many things, but we remain. We stand together. Our love is more than enough to share. When we rolled onto our backs, satisfied and still smelling of the sea, and now of sex, your eyes were so soft. There was a tenderness between us, which was always there, but now spoke louder. Yes, we would continue to have passionate, hard sex, but we added a layer that day. We grew into one another. I saw a fragile part of you … and loved it. I love you. And I love us.