IR Ever After Part 5

As a girl fantasizing about her wedding, Riley’s imagination had just done a magical time jump between kissing at the altar and having moonlit sex on the beach in Fiji or something. Grownup Riley knows a little better and doesn’t dream about having sex on the beach anymore. There’s already enough Paparazzi in her life, and she’s also heard of something called sand.

With the wedding being such a big production, there was no way they were getting on a plane tonight. They’ll spend the night in the honeymoon suite of a Swedish hotel and go to the airport in the morning.

They managed to keep the press away from the venue with a little help from FUTA, but it’s unlikely that they won’t be tracked to their hotel. So, there is nothing romantic about the way that Ingrid shimmies out of her offensively simple wedding dress, revealing her usual simple white underwear. She pulls on jeans and a tee, then sets out about helping get Riley out of her dress and into some leggings and a hoodie.

They’re putting on baseball caps and sunglasses as the limo pulls up behind the hotel, and they all but scamper out, carrying their overnight bags. The precautions aren’t for nothing; Riley’s gotten good at spotting paparazzi, and there’s a Volvo across the street that she doesn’t like the look of.

But she and Ingrid are inside the hotel and heading up in seconds and without incident. The hats and sunglasses come off, and they stare at each other in the elevator. It’s not exactly awkward. Just different.

As they’re getting off on their floor, Riley’s phone buzzes. Frowning, she checks it. It’s her Dad in the family group chat. He’s out of the house, but she’s still related to him.

‘Don’t forget to carry her over the threshold,’ he writes.

Riley pauses in the middle of the hallway. Ingrid looks at her curiously as she peers at her phone. That is some kind of tradition. But isn’t that the threshold at home or something? And since when does anyone care? Do they even do this in Sweden? Riley watches as Mom and Kayla immediately dogpile Dad in the chat because apparently that tradition is somehow problematic.

Riley shakes her head and puts the phone away, following Ingrid to their door. Would Ingrid even go for that? It’s so hard to tell with her. Well, whatever. There’s only one wedding night. Riley blinks, then frowns. Hopefully just the one. She puts her bag down.

“Baby,” she says.

Ingrid smiles at her, still glowing.

“We have to do a tradition,” Riley says. Ingrid looks curious. “Here. Put this down.” Ingrid sets her bag on the floor, intrigued.

“Oh!” she says as Riley scoops her up.

Riley immediately learns that this looks easier in movies. She’s a pro athlete and capable of carrying her wife like a princess. However, although this can never be said out loud, Ingrid is at least ten pounds heavier than Riley. And when Riley’s working out, she’s not really focusing on upper body stuff.

“Oh jeez,” she says. “Ah!” There’s a dangerous twinge from her lower back. “Gack!” That comes as Ingrid wraps her arms around Riley’s neck.