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Her favorite time of day used to be dusk, especially during the summer when the lightening bugs came out, but now it was dawn, just as the first rays of sun started to chase the lingering shadows of nighttime away. She would sit up in bed, hair a mess, always the first one to wake, stretching her arms towards the ceiling while arching her back, working the kinks and tiredness from her muscles. Beside her, still curled up in the dark blue comforter, facing towards her, was a large tanned man with graying curls sticking to his creased forehead. Joel Miller; her grumpy husband, her steady rock in the windiest storm, her heart and her safe space. His lashes fluttered in his sleep, his jaw relaxed for once, unaware that he was being watched by his biggest admirer.
This was the only time she sees him completely at peace. His face was free of rage, worry or sorrow. He was at his most vulnerable here, next to her, in their shared bedroom like the world outside couldn’t touch them. Reaching out, she lightly followed the shape of his strong jaw, fingertips grazing his beard, the hint of a loving smile pressing at the corners of her mouth. He has a rugged appearance to him at the age of fifty-four, certainly older than he’s ever been, and yet he never looked more beautiful to her. His facial hair was starting to be tipped with silver, the lines around his eyes and forehead much more prominent now.
With the pads of her index and middle finger, she gently traced the firm seam of his slightly chapped lips. The same lips she had kissed over a hundred times now, much softer than she could have ever imagined. The freckles that dusted his cheeks were barely noticeable unless someone was up close and really looking for them. The scar on the upper right side of his forehead, and the littler ones sparse across the weathered plains of his handsome face was one of her favored features. That of course was on par with the appreciation of his deep brown eyes, like bittersweet dark chocolate, freshly brewed java or a looming abyss, the kind she could lose herself in indefinitely.
Pulling her hand back from his cheek, a small gasp left her like air escaping a plastic bag, Joel’s large calloused hand suddenly encompassing her much smaller one. He didn’t open his eyes just yet, his tired voice breaking the silence they cultivated so naturally.
“Do we gotta do this every mornin’? You’re like a damn owl, always watchin’ me with them big curious eyes.”
To anyone else, it would sound like Joel was annoyed, but she knew he wasn’t, no far from it. This was routine for them. She woke with the morning light and he’d follow ten or fifteen minutes later. In those quiet moments where slumber still stubbornly claimed her other half, she’d just sit there, staring, taking him in. He was everything to her. The man who walked into her mess of a life and turned it around. He cleaned up each broken, shattered moment, mended every crack in her abused confidence like they were never there at all and gave her the desire, the hope to dream again.
“You’re real lucky I can only gawk at you and that I’m the world’s worst artist, otherwise I would’ve plastered our room with dozens of pictures of you by now.”
He groaned and snorted at that, finally opening his eyes to meet her unfaltering gaze. It took a minute for his vision to adjust, his eyesight wasn’t what it used to be. When the mild blur of her came into focus, Joel’s chest tightened as it often did seeing even the faintest glimpse of her. The light filtering in through the blinds highlighted her in such a way that it made her look like an angel, messy hair and all. He was one lucky son-of-a-bitch. Just as he saved her from herself, she reciprocated in kind. Whatever demons he had been facing, the fear of more loss, the walls he had built around himself, his jaded view of the world, it all paled in comparison to her love and willingness to remain by his side, even on his worst days.
“I guess I should be thankful you ain’t got talent in the art department, last thing this place needs is pictures of my ugly mug hangin’ around.”
She scrunched her nose and shook her head before pulling her hand away from his. The echo of her infectious giggling overtook the room. She leaned down to peck his nose with a hasty kiss, both of her hands finding a resting place on his sturdy clothed chest. He was wearing her favorite shirts, an old black one with AC/DC faded on the front. She’d got it for him ages ago. It fit him just right, hugging his upper half in such a way that it defined his muscles under the worn fabric.
“I hate to break it to you, but there isn’t an ugly thing about you, Joel Miller.”
That earned her an audible chuckle, a languid grin spreading across his tired face. Without so much as a warning, Joel reached back out to her again, this time to pull her securely against his solid frame. He tucked her head under his chin, nestling into her hair, arms wrapping around her steadily, her own hands squished against his chest. She was his home. He never felt safer than he did holding her in his arms. The house could come crashing down around them and he still wouldn’t ever be able to bring himself to let her go. He wanted this feeling to last forever.
“Oh? Is that so, Mrs. Miller?”
The tone of his voice was lazy, relaxed, but none the less teasing. She closed her eyes, letting the moment consume her. Slow mornings free of any responsibilities were the most cherished. Feeling his heart beating steadily under her right hand, combined with the smell of his skin, leather, cedar-wood, musk and coffee, told her that this was real, he was real. Sometimes she wondered if this was all a wild dream that she’d one day wake from, but time and time again she was met with the reality of it all, being happily married to Joel, a man who had seen into her soul like it was a mirror.
“Yeah, it really, really is, and you know I’d never lie to you about a single thing, honeybee.”
Pulling back from him just enough to see his face, a face she could spend her whole life knowing, their eyes met, retaining their sleepiness but filled with clear mutual devotion. She loved the way he looked at her, like she was his whole reason for being. Winding her arms around his neck, pressing her breasts firmly against his chest and tangling her legs with his own, she rested her forehead against his as well, their noses nearly brushing together.
“Guess we’ll have to agree to disagree on this one, sweetheart. And honeybee, huh? Well ain’t that a new pet name? What made ya come up with that one?”
Joel never once looked away from her, his gaze piercing hers and vice versa. She always found light, playful ways to keep their relationship fresh and exciting. Every day was an adventure, every year seeming like a lifetime in only the best possible sense.
She could turn a raging storm into nothing but mist and dew drops on grass with the slightest touch, the dreariest of days changed to sunshine with just one soft smile, and her laughter was like the first blossoms of spring, precious and beautiful. Kissing his lips tenderly, she thought about what she’d say to his question. Smirking against his mouth after a minute of greeting him good morning, she hummed, mocking the buzzing of a bee.
“It’s because I’m your honey. It’s as simple as that, Mr. Miller.”
Joel wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting as far as an answer, but he chuckled anyways, the sound deep and contagious. Nudging her nose with his, he kissed her again, this time with more fervor than the previous one. His tongue slipped passed her lips with no resistance; they’d done this song and dance more than a dozen times now. They knew what one another liked and disliked by now. If it was one thing they both could agree on though, it was that slow morning kisses were the only good way to start the day, right up there with morning sex.
“Sweetest damn honey I ever did have, too. I’ll be your honeybee as long as you’ll have me.”
He kissed her temple, lips feather-light in their action. A grunt left him when she was quick to push him on his back, the blanket that had been half covering him slid away like an afterthought. When she straddled his waist, his hands met her hips, steadying her, ensuring her balance. She always looked the most beautiful atop him. All his thoughts were stolen from him when she kissed him again, their breaths mingling as she parted to whisper to him affectionately.
“It’s a good thing I don’t ever plan on getting rid of you then. Just like honey is sticky and sweet, you’re stuck with me, Joel.”
♡ I’ll love you forever, baby, I promise. ♡