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The music kept playing in the grand hall, laughter bounced from wall to wall, and the guests seemed utterly incapable of leaving. Laurie smiled, greeted them, accepted congratulations… but every minute stretched on endlessly.
His gaze kept drifting toward Jo, who was chatting animatedly with a distant aunt about books and politics, as if there were not the slightest urgency in the world. He, meanwhile, could think of nothing but the room upstairs—of unfastening every button of that white dress that felt like pure provocation.
"She’s my wife," he reminded himself. "My wife. And they’re still here, occupying my house, as if the wedding night weren’t a pressing matter."
Trying to be subtle, he began with politeness:
“Dearest friends, it’s been a wonderful day, hasn’t it? The carriage is waiting outside.”
No one moved. Amy even requested another melody at the piano.
Laurie swallowed. He could feel the heat in his chest mixing with the frustration of having to wait. Jo, serene as ever, didn’t seem to notice a thing.
A second attempt, more direct:
“The ladies must be tired… don’t you think, Mrs. March?” he said, urgency slipping into his voice.
“Oh no, dear Laurie, we can stay a bit longer!” her mother replied sweetly.
Then came the more obvious gestures: exaggerated yawns, a couple of claps that sounded suspiciously like farewells, even theatrically turning off a few lamps. Nothing. They kept talking, eating, toasting.
Jo glanced at him.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asked, amused.
“Nothing, nothing,” he replied, biting back a growl.
At last, he lost his patience. Laurie plastered on a stiff smile, took a deep breath, and with a feverish gleam in his eyes, began ushering people toward the door one by one, rattling off hurried courtesies:
“What an honor to have you here, but tomorrow will be a long day! Yes, yes, do write soon. Thank you, thank you!”
He showed no mercy even to the Marches. He practically dragged Meg and Amy toward the exit with barely disguised politeness, while Beth yawned softly and Jo stared at him as though he had lost his mind.
“Theodore Laurence… do you realize you looked like an innkeeper throwing drunkards out of his tavern?”
Laurie didn’t answer. In one swift motion, he scooped her up in his arms as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Jo let out a startled gasp, followed by a laugh.
“Laurie! What are you doing? Put me down!”
“I’m not wasting another minute,” he murmured, his eyes shining.
And before she could argue, he carried her straight to the bedroom, closing the door with the same determination he’d used to empty the house.
The door shut with a click that echoed through the silence of the empty home. Laurie leaned back against it, Jo still in his arms, and for a few seconds he simply stood there, breathing deeply, as if he couldn’t quite believe they were finally alone.
Jo, flushed, tapped his shoulder.
“You could have waited for everyone to leave on their own,” she murmured, laughter threading her voice.
Laurie looked down at her, that mischievous smile that always betrayed him curving his lips.
“I couldn’t, Jo. Not after spending all day looking at you…” His voice faltered, so earnest that she stopped teasing.
He set her gently on the bed, but the moment her feet touched the sheets, he leaned over her, bracing his hands on either side of her body. His eyes shone with an intensity that made her catch her breath.
“You’re my wife,” he whispered, barely brushing his lips against hers. “And I’ve waited far too long for this.”
A shiver ran through Jo. Laurie kissed her then, with an urgency that blended hunger and devotion. His trembling hands traced the line of her face, as if he meant to memorize every curve, every detail.
When he began to loosen the ties of her dress, he paused, searching her eyes.
“Tell me you want this too,” he asked in a thin, vulnerable voice beneath all that desire.
Jo cupped his cheek and smiled.
“Of course I do, Teddy.”
That was all the answer he needed. With a broken sigh, he let himself go, and the night he had waited for with such desperation finally began to unfold.
And while the silence of the grand hall still echoed through the empty house, Laurie thought—with a mix of triumph and mischief—there’s nothing quite like throwing out the relatives to enjoy my privileges… as a husband.