Dinner was incredibly good; their parents had gone together to cater the affair, and John relaxed and enjoyed it, and the wine. Friends and family came in and out of their circle, offering congratulations and as custom, gifts of cash tucked into envelopes. He had several tucked into his obi, as did Nana, but had no idea how much they'd gathered. Later, they'd take a look, but it was rude to look now.
As he'd expected, John's father adored Nana, and her mother approved of her. Nana was everything they'd wanted in a wife for him; Clara, though they cared for her, had not been. And Nana had given them a grandchild, though not of their blood, and there was the promise of more. Though not, John thought, as many as the government expected; somehow he'd work around that. He'd not have Nana harmed by perpetual pregnancy.
The evening wound down and Nana's mother took her inside to help her change out of the kimono; it was an heirloom worth many thousands of dollars, and now worn only for ceremonial occasions. They took Rose with them so Nana could feed her. Nana would most likely feed her again before her mother took her home with her for the evening.
He and Nana would have the night together, alone. It was most likely the only night they'd have for a while. He longed to curl up with her, to feel her skin against his; it had been so long since he had.