Chapter 32 #2
He’s so careful as he runs the razor blade across my most sensitive region. It’s quite a sight seeing a giant of a man, nearly naked, being so tender with me.
He pauses to rinse the blade. “It’s going well. Perhaps this could be a career for me after football.”
“Makes perfect sense. You do love vaginas.”
“Vagina,” he corrects. “I’m a one-vagina kind of man now. It’s a good thing it’s my favorite vagina in the world.”
I smile. “You have the sweetest pillow talk.”
“Your vagina is a philosophical one,” he announces with a straight face. “That’s why it’s my favorite.”
“What makes her philosophical?”
He smirks. “It’s deep.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Oh my god. Where do you come up with this stuff?”
He wiggles his eyebrows as he continues to carefully run the razor over me. Time and time again, he strokes me with it, never hurting me.
“Got any more vagina jokes for me while you’re down there?”
He twists his lips, all while remaining focused. “Hmm. Why don’t witches wear panties?”
“Why?”
“So they can grip the broomstick better.”
I spit in laughter. “I love that one. I’m using it.”
He places the razor blade in the cup and gives me a satisfied look. “All done. I did a perfect job, if I must say so myself.”
I run my fingers between my legs and check on his work for myself. “It does feel rather smooth. Nicely done, Dr. Humblecock.”
He gasps. “Oh my god, I need a lab coat that has Dr. Humblecock written on it.”
I make a note to order him one for Christmas.
He continues. “My post-football-pussy-shaving business will be called Humblecock Coochies.”
I nod. “It has a nice ring to it.”
He chuckles. “I think so.”
His telephone on the counter rings, and he picks it up before his eyes widen and he looks at me. “It’s Judge Demise.”
“Crap,” I exclaim, “I forgot we have our final meeting with him this morning. Let’s fuck with him.” I stand and quickly grab my robe.
He wiggles his eyebrows. “Yes, excellent idea, wife. Go answer and pretend like we’re not together. I’m sure he’s calling your phone too.”
I grab my ringing phone from the bedroom and run into the other room. Once I’m there, I answer the video call and smile into the camera. “Hi, Judge.”
He scowls. “This is the second time I tried calling. Where were you?”
“Sorry, I was on TikTok watching someone restock their fridge and put things in clear containers for two hours. My bad.”
I can hear Daylen laughing from the other room. God damn, he’s so loud. He’s going to out us to the judge.
He then joins the call. “Sorry I was late. I was walking the snake.”
The judge pinches his eyebrows in confusion. “What does that mean? You can take snakes for walks? Do they have snake collars? Do they have necks?”
I can’t help but giggle. “No, Judge, that was a euphemism for going to the bathroom. My dear husband amuses himself by finding random ways to tell people he’s going to the bathroom.”
The judge sighs. “God help me, you two will be the death of me.” He then mumbles, “It wasn’t worth it.”
“Worth what?” Daylen asks.
The judge’s trademark scowl turns into something I don’t recognize on his face. I think it might be a smile. What the hell?
“Winning the competition,” he almost cheerily announces. “Every year,” he explains, “each retired judge picks one couple who we refuse an annulment, asking them to wait an unreasonably longer period of time. If we can get them to remain married after that period, we win the pool.”
I stand there in shock, but Daylen asks, “How big is the pool?”
He lifts his eyes upward, and his lips move as he appears to count. “Well, there are around thirty-three retired judges in the program, but four are boring and don’t like a little fun competition. We each contribute one dollar to the pot, so that’s twenty-nine dollars I’ve got coming my way.”
My jaw drops. “You fucked with our lives for twenty-nine dollars?”
His small smile becomes much larger. “I suppose that’s one way to look at it.
The other is that perhaps I know what I’m doing.
I’ve been married for sixty-eight years.
I’ve been a family court judge for nearly all that time.
I’ve seen what works and doesn’t work. I saw a fire in you two that I knew would light with the right kindling.
I merely provided that kindling. It was you two who lit that fire and set it ablaze.
I saw your speech on the television, Ms. Jeffries…
or should I call you Mrs. Humblecut?” He turns his attention to Daylen.
“And you, Mr. Humblecut, I could hear your laugh two counties over, let alone a room or two over. I may be getting old, but it’s not easy to pull one over on me. ”
Daylen and I are shocked into silence, and the judge chuckles. I didn’t even know he had teeth. “I see I’ve stunned you.” He straightens his collar. “It’s good to know I still have it.”
Again, we remain silent. Neither of us has any words for this insanity.
He sighs. “Well, I suppose my work here is done. I understand congratulations are in order. Shall I assume it’s okay to tear up these annulment papers? I’ll sign them today if you’d like.”
Daylen walks into the room I’m standing in and throws his arm around me before kissing my cheek. “No annulment needed.”
“Ms. Jeffries?”
I shake my head. “No annulment.”
He grins. “Excellent. I’ll tell the wife she can have dinner at the fancy steakhouse tonight. Twenty-nine dollars goes a long way in Vegas.”
I think that was a joke. Did he just try to make a joke?
He laughs as he continues, “I’ll give you one parting bit of advice about matrimony. Maturing in a marriage is understanding that if you hit your wife’s butt as you walk by, she’ll roll her eyes, but if you don’t, she’ll wonder why you don’t love her anymore. Don’t ever stop smacking her ass.”
He waves, and practically sings, “Best of luck, you two,” before he cuts the feed.
A few hours later, Daylen and I are standing in front of each other reciting our vows, staring lovingly into each other’s eyes. Yes, our friends and family are here, but we only have eyes for each other.
We’re dressed in high-end but not too formal clothing.
Daylen happily let me dress him in slacks, a button-down shirt, and a sports coat.
It’s my favorite look on him. I’m in a silky, long white dress that shows enough cleavage to keep him happy but not be inappropriate.
We rented a rooftop restaurant in a downtown Philly skyscraper.
It’s winter, so we couldn’t be outside, but the restaurant has glass walls with three-hundred-and-sixty-degree views of the city, so it’s beautiful.
“Do you take this man to be your husband?” the officiant, whose name isn’t Pinky or Elvis, asks.
“I do.” I smile at Daylen as we hold each other’s hands.
I decide to add my own vows. “I promise that the only waterfalls I’ll chase are the real ones with you by my side.
I promise to never judge you, even if you wear cargo pants, white jeans, or sandals with socks.
If you want a photo of yourself in front of your car, I’ll take it for you.
If you want to wear a chain necklace, I’ll help you put it on.
If you want a fruity drink, I’ll make it for you.
” My eyes well with tears. “I’ll never ask you to be anything other than authentically you because I love the real you.
With a spatula in hand, I’ll love you until the day I die.
And if I go first, I’ll haunt you for eternity just to ensure you make good fashion decisions. ”
He smirks as he bends forward and softly kisses my lips.
The officiant turns to Daylen. “Do you take this woman to be your wife?”
“I do,” he answers with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “I’ll never again judge a bra by its cover. I’ll put my hands inside and discover.”
I smile while everyone laughs.
He continues, “You, Kennedy, are the person who matters most to me in the world.” I fight my tears.
He knows what that statement means to me.
“I want us to grow old together. Old enough so we can complain about how things used to be better, like your dad does. I promise I’ll care more about you than how much Netflix cares if you’re logging on from a different location with a different device.
I promise to dance with you on our balcony.
I promise to carry you inside if you fall asleep in the rain.
I promise to always make you laugh. And when I die,” his face turns serious, “I want my ashes placed in your salsa so I can tear your ass up one last time.”
The whole place erupts in laughter except my dad. He barks, “Humblecut!”
Daylen snaps his head toward my father. “Sorry, Coach.”
Harper, who’s our flower girl, asks Tanner, “What does that mean, Daddy?”
Tanner pinches the bridge of his nose. “Oh Christ. Ask your mother.”
I grin widely, point at Daylen, and lightheartedly announce, “My emergency contact, ladies and gentlemen.”
Daylen pumps his fist. “Yes! I finally made it as your emergency contact.”
A few hours later, we’re all sitting around an oversized table. I’m overwhelmed by everyone here to support us. Two years ago, no one at this table would have been here to celebrate me, and now I can’t imagine my life without any of them. It’s my family, his family, and our found family.
Tears fill my eyes at how much fuller my life has become since my trade to Philly. That day, I thought it was the worst thing to ever happen to me. It turns out it was the best.
This damn pregnancy is making me so hormonal.
Daylen leans over and whispers, “Are you okay?”
I nod as I squeeze his hand. “I’m perfect.”
“Damn straight, baby.” He pulls a phone out of his pocket. One I don’t recognize. “Look, I got an iPhone. No more Android. No more messing up group texts. Green flag for me.”
I giggle as Hank holds up his champagne glass. “To the happy couple,” he shouts before wiping away his own errant tears and turning his attention to Daylen. “I love you, son. I’m so happy you found a woman who matches your energy. Yo mama would have been so proud.”
Daylen raises an amused eyebrow. “Yo mama?”
Hank nods. “Yep.”
Jagger whines, “Are you two for real? Not now.”
Hank nods again. “Yes, now.”
Daylen puffs out his chest. “Yo mama is so dumb, she tried to make an appointment with Dr. Pepper.”
Everyone except Hank laughs. He stares at Daylen and says, “Yo mama has been sleeping around so long, that she’s gotten with the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.”
Again, more laughter, but Daylen keeps it together.
I raise my hand. “Can I try one?”
Hank and Daylen share a bemused look as Hank winks at me and motions his hand in invitation for me to give it a go. In fairness, Hank had given me the heads up and encouraged me to join their bit tonight.
I first look at Harper and instruct, “Earmuffs.” Fallon covers Harper’s ears and gives me the all-clear signal. I lick my lips. “Yo mama is as dumb as a bowling ball. She gets picked up, fingered, thrown in the gutter, and yet she still comes back for more.”
And they both laugh. I’m the big winner tonight in every way possible.