“The guilds had it done in four years. Only to have the Brabant Revolutionaries sack it a hundred years later.”

Theo went on to educate me on the finer points of Belgian history, but it all passed in a blur.

When he noticed my inattention, he smiled at me. “Shall we return to the hotel for dinner, my little wife?”

So soon? “Yes, dearest.”

He hurried, and I kept up. Then, seated in the dining room, I couldn’t eat more than a few bites.

Theo finished all his plate and half of mine. “Ready to go up to our room?”

Already? Heavens. Maybe I could eat a few more spoonfuls. But Theo was on his feet already. Here we go, then.

We walked upstairs hand in hand, and all I could think, again, was that I was not ready. Such a child I was. I was not going to write this silly panic in my diary.

Moonlight lit the room like in a romantic novel. The sweet scent of the red roses Theo had gifted me for our wedding perfumed the air. I had only one last brief delay left, the bathroom down the hall we shared with other guests.

I went first. Afterwards, while Theo took his turn, I changed into my nightclothes and hid myself under the covers. Nothing for it but to suffer through it, then.

In the room on our left, a baby cried, and a mother soothed the child. In the room on our right, a couple argued loudly over wine.

Theo knocked.

It gets easier, my friend Anna who had married last August, told me when I’d asked. The words implied that at first it was difficult. Yet I could not put it off forever. Oh, why didn’t I ask for greater detail?

Theo knocked again.

“Ready!” And then, after he entered and slipped into bed next to me, I couldn’t say another word.

Suddenly, he seemed very much like a stranger again. Certainly, we didn’t know each other enough for this. Had I made the right decision? I still barely knew him. We’d spent but two weeks together in Paris before Christmas. Then two weeks around our engagement, and another two weeks before our wedding. Our joint lives stretched before us. Would I find the nights burdensome? Would I be adequate?

He ran his warm hand over my arm. “Are you cold, dearest?”

“Nervous. And embarrassed.” I pressed my face into my pillow. “I don’t know what to expect,” I mumbled into the duck down. “I can hear everything people on either side of us are saying.” I was mortified that strangers might overhear us.

Theo smiled in the moonlight. “My Jo, I’m inexpressibly happy that you are my wife at last. I can wait.”

He brushed his thumb over my cheek, then his lips across mine. Degree by degree, I warmed to his touch. And those kisses were all he took that night.