Marcel.
Standing at the far edge of the lot, half-hidden behind the cottonwoods. Hat in hand, shoulders squared, though I can see from here how hard he’s fighting to hold steady. His eyes find mine—across the distance, across the silence—and I break.
A sob tears from my chest before I can stop it. My aunt and uncle crowd around me, fussing, mistaking the source of my grief. Irene’s hand rubs my back, murmuring words of comfort. None of them understand. None of them see the man who holds my soul in his hands, standing in the shadows, letting me go.
Briggs opens the car door. My legs move because they must. I sink into the seat, the leather cool beneath me, and the door shuts with a sound that feels like finality.
As the engine rumbles and the driveway stretches before us, I press my trembling fingers to the glass. I turn, desperate for one last glimpse.
He’s still there. Waiting. Watching.
I raise my hand and send him a kiss, a silent vow carried on the morning air.
His hand lifts, pressing to his chest like he’s trying to hold the weight of it in place. And I know—just as I know the sun will rise tomorrow—that part of me will stay with him forever.
Reverie
Marcel 1986
The room is steepedin quiet, the kind that feels sacred. Moonlight filters through the thin curtains, painting pale silver across the bed where Clara lies draped against me, her cheek pressed to my chest. My arms hold her close, greedy for her warmth, greedy for proof that she’s here—not memory, not dream. Her soft sighs rise and fall with the rhythm of my breath, each one sinking deeper into my bones.
I press my lips to the crown of her hair and close my eyes. For decades, I’ve carried the ghost of this woman, the echo of her touch. Now she is here, real and fragile in my arms, and I don’t know how to do anything but cling to her.
“I love you,” I murmur into the stillness. The words come raw, unpolished, but truer than any prayer I’ve ever whispered.
She lifts her head, eyes shining in the moonlight. Her fingers trace along my jaw, delicate as a breath. “I love you too, Marcel.”
The ache that’s lived in my chest for so long breaks open. My hand cups the back of her neck, drawing her down to kiss me. It’s soft, unhurried, but it wrecks me more than anything else ever has.
When we part, I can’t hold it back. The words tumble out, urgent, trembling. “Stay, Clara. Stay here with me. Don’t go back to whatever shadows were pulling you away. Please.”
Her breath catches. For a moment, fear flickers in her eyes, as though she might retreat into all the reasons we shouldn’t. But then it’s gone, replaced by something fierce and tender all at once.
“Yes,” she whispers, her voice breaking on the word. “Yes, Marcel. I’ll stay.”
The world shifts on its axis. My throat tightens, my chest heaves with relief so sharp it hurts. I pull her tighter against me, burying my face in her hair, holding on like she’s the only tether I have left.
Then I feel the change, I don’t feel like a ghost waiting to pass. I feel whole. Because Clara is here. And she’s staying.
Her yes hangs in the air between us, soft but devastating, like it could shake the walls if the house were listening. I press a kiss to her temple, then to the freckles on her nose, then trail one to her jaw until she gives a half-laugh, half-sob that trembles against my lips.
“You’re relentless,” she murmurs, her palm splayed over my chest as if to steady herself.
I grin against her skin. “I’m a man who’s been waiting his whole afterlife for you.”
It earns me another laugh, wetter this time, her shoulders shaking as tears slip free. I brush them away with my thumb before they can fall further. “No more crying tonight, Firefly. Not here. Not in my arms.”
“I can’t help it,” she whispers, smiling through the shimmer in her eyes. “I feel twenty and a hundred all at once. My heart can’t keep up.”
I take her hand and kiss her knuckles one by one, slow and reverent. “Then let it rest here. With me.”
We lie like that, her steady in my arms, letting our souls tangle in the quiet.
After a long moment, she exhales. “What will Eli think of me staying?”
I huff a low laugh. “Eli? He’ll probably mutter that I’m a damn fool for letting you slip away once, and an even bigger fool if I don’t hold on now.”
Her brows lift. “So you think you know exactly what he’ll say?”
