His hands came up to my face and he let out this quiet, overwhelmed laugh. In his eyes I could practically see the reel of every memory we’d built together: our first run, our first kiss, the first time we’d made love, our first fight, the weekend he proposed—twice—and each moment of laughter and quiet between us since.

And then my husband bent, covering my lips with his. I should have known better than to expect a gentle peck. The kiss went on, and on, to the growing hoots and hollers of our friends. But despite their shared joy, I could have left the entire celebration then and there. I could have taken Will’s hand and pulled him into a closet and kissed him for days, just sealing this most important promise for hours.

After the I do’s, we walked out into the garden with its towering trees and twinkling lights to the sound of our family and friends’ cheers. My cheeks ached from smiling and I tightened my grip on Will’s hand, because he was the only thing anchoring me to the ground. Without his steady touch I was sure I’d simply float away, disappearing into the night sky like a balloon.

I was grateful I’d listened to advice reminding me that in twenty years, I’d only remember him. Because it was true: his eyes barely strayed from me all night, and when they did it was because he’d pulled me close and his hands took over, roaming carefully over my arms, my back, my sides. The entire reception felt like one long, drawn-out session of foreplay, and by the time I threw the bouquet, I was practically vibrating to be alone with him.

It was only when we were in the town car and on our way to Will’s surprise wedding-night location that we had a moment to breathe.

“I can’t believe I made it through that entire thing without screwing up,” I said. I’d been smiling nonstop for hours now. My cheeks were sore and my rapid heartbeat left a constant, giddy feeling in my chest.

“I don’t know about the entire thing,” Will teased, easily evading a slug to the arm. “I’m kidding.” With a finger under my chin, he tilted my face up to him. “Didn’t I tell you everything would be perfect?”

“You did,” I said, stretching to nip at his jaw. “Apparently big social gatherings where I am prominently featured stress me out a little. Who knew?”

He laughed.

“Hey, guess what?”

“What?”

“You’re my favorite.”