“It’s fine,” I said.
Jacob added, “We each came into the relationship with our own finances. It seemed easiest to add the joint account instead of completely dismantling systems that already worked for each of us.”
The pastor said, “Vic, can you elaborate?”
Not only had I never given our pecuniary arrangement much thought, but I couldn’t even tell you which one of us said, “Why don’t we set up another bank account for the bills?” when we moved in together. If I can set something and forget it, I do—and our mundane finances were a prime example. Everything was on auto-pay. My personal debit card was never declined. And once in a while, I grabbed some cash at the ATM and noted that my receipt showed I still had money in the bank. Not a fortune. But I could buy another latte if the mood struck me, no problem.
“It really is fine. I don’t give it much thought, and I’m not what you’d call a big spender.”
“Spending is another important area to explore. How would you rate this statement: I check with my partner before I make a major purchase…?” As if Jacob ever asked anyone permission to do anything. Apparently, I was smirking. “You find something funny in that, Vic?”
Jacob answered her. “Like I said, we’re fortunate that buying the wrong washing machine won’t leave us choosing between prescriptions and food.”
You were the one who insisted on a front-loader, I thought. But since he did all the laundry, I didn’t indulge myself in the dig. “Look, I trust Jacob. And maybe it’s adrenaline burnout, or maybe I’m just oblivious—but given what I deal with day to day, I just can’t bring myself to get worked up about shopping.”
Thankfully, that was the last awkward question we had time for. We got an assignment to do the first section of the marriage workbook before our next meeting, said our goodbyes and signed off. When the video call closed and the camera light winked out, the dark desktop photo of a starry galaxy let me see our reflections in the monitor glass. Not as clear as the tiny video picture-in-picture. But a lot larger. We both looked slightly spooked, as if we hadn’t realized that while we were grilling the family, someone would be grilling us.
Once the computer powered down, I said, “I wasn’t aware there’d be a PDF involved. No one said anything about a test when we signed up for this. Are we being graded? What if we fail, do we lose our big church wedding?”
Jacob shrugged wearily. He clicked over to his email and found the booklet waiting for us: Wedded Bliss.
4
THE REFLECTION OF our expressions in the monitor was priceless.
Jacob hit the download button. “Our wedding’s not in jeopardy. We’ll just power through the booklet, say the right things, and everyone will be happy.”
“Sounds good to me,” I said…and then wanted to take it right back once I got a load of the table of contents. “Expressions of intimacy? As in sex? And we’re supposed to talk about this with your priest?”
“Minister.” The correction was halfhearted, as Jacob was too busy navigating over to that section to see exactly how mortified we needed to be.
Emotional and physical intimacy go hand in hand, but not everyone has the same expectations where intimacy is concerned. Discuss the following:
• What makes you feel appreciated?
• Who modeled affectionate behavior for you?
• How do you define affection?
Ugh. My first impulse was to leap up, run down to the kitchen, and scour the fridge for some leftovers. But before I fled the scene, it occurred to me that they wouldn’t ask what affection meant if the definition was universal.
“How do you define affection?” I asked.
Jacob seemed puzzled—but also willing to talk it through. “Physically?”
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
“Closeness.” He wheeled his chair up against mine and leaned into my side. “Touch.” He ran his fingertips along my thigh. “A kiss….”
His lips brushed mine while his whiskers tickled my chin. Tongue. Just a hint. No, an invitation. It would have been so easy to lean into that kiss and avoid a potentially awkward conversation—but I was looking at a chance to find out how Jacob really ticked. It would be a real shame to throw that away.
I eased back and said, “So affection is sex.” I glanced at the monitor and read, “Affection can be verbal and nonverbal. So, the nonverbal part—?”
“It’s not just sex.” He took my hand in his—the hand that wasn’t hauling around a heavy plaster cast—and traced my life line with his thumb. His gaze went soft as he searched his memory. “Remember back at the old apartment?”
“How could I forget?”
“It was a Saturday morning. We both had the day off. I was heading out to the gym and you stopped me at the door. Not to kiss me goodbye…but to tuck in the tag that was sticking out on the back of my T-shirt.”
“Gee. How romantic.”
He smiled to himself. “Sometimes, back then, you hardly seemed real. More like a character out of a movie come to life. I fell for you so hard, so fast, sometimes I worried I might wake up some day and find that the whole thing was an elaborate fantasy of mine, some crazy, vivid dream. And when you’d do something psychic—it was always obvious to me you weren’t talking to yourself—this thing we had together felt just a little more fragile every time. Like eventually you’d wonder why you saddled yourself with some useless Stiff.”
“Jacob—”
“But then you’d do something mundane like tucking in my tag, and I’d realize there was more to you than the high-powered medium who could literally see ghosts. Sure, that phenomenally rare psychic was you. But you were also just a guy.” He looked up and met my gaze. It was hard, with so much tenderness there…but I managed to keep myself from looking away. He cupped my jaw and smoothed a thumb across my temple. “A guy with incredibly sexy blue eyes.”
Okay. That earned him an eye-roll…but I was smiling while I did it. It’s hard to kiss someone when you’re smiling, but I guess the added challenge just makes it all the sweeter.
Once the kissing got hot and heavy—and once Jacob’s office chair threatened to roll out from under him—he swung out of his seat and dragged me to the floor on top of him. I wasn’t only straddling his hips, but also the pronounced bulge our kissing had encouraged. The office carpet was decent enough, though nowhere near as cushy as a bed, so when things started hurting, I rolled onto my side to take some pressure off my knees. A box of file folders prodded me in the kidney and an old rubber band was sticking to my neck, but I ignored them.
Our awkward tangle of limbs—and our sudden spike of need—was enough to distract me…at least until it was obvious that my non-broken hand being trapped beneath us was seriously cramping my style. There was only so far I could take things by grinding my thigh against him.
We adjourned to the bedroom and ditched our clothes. Unfortunately, the pause in the action was allowing words to slip in. Jacob asked, “Did you notice the next question on the list?”
“Whether we’d discussed family planning?”
Jacob treated me to a relatively tolerant smirk. “What sexual activities do you enjoy?”