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She reaches behind the couch, pulling out an old photo album and handing it over to me. I begin flipping through it. Pictures of my parents as teens going to prom, their wedding, vacations, all flicker through my eyes as I listen to my aunt. “Your father, my brother, was an extremely funny person. Not in an in-your-face way, but in a sarcastic way, like you.” I smile, stopping on a photo of the three of us. I would have only been a few days old. They stare down at me on the front porch of our home, smiling. “He ran his company with an iron fist. To the public, he was cold and aloof, but behind closed doors, he was the most laid-back, calm person I ever met. And he adored you. You look so much like him, it hurts sometimes.” I wipe tears from my cheek as I look down at a photo of my dad and I, me in cherry-shaped sunglasses, as I steer a boat while sitting in his lap.
“And your mom. No one could love like she could. I loved her like a sister. I cherished her sweet but slightly bratty personality. The way she never backed down when it came to those she loved. As soon as I saw her hold you, I knew you were meant for her. No one else could have been your mother. She was born to love you.”
I choke on a sob, my chest squeezing, heart thrashing, as I cry over the loss of my mother. “Oh, Brixley.” Aunt Beth wraps me in her arms as I climb into her lap as if I am a small child again. And she holds me like this, crying silently with me.
“I think she would be really proud of you,” I say, sniffing. “You were a good mom to me. And I think, if she had to choose someone, it would have been you.”
Aunt Beth lifts my face, placing a kiss to my nose. “Thank you,” she whispers. She pauses, studying my nose. “What happened to your nose?” It looks different.”
I let out a laugh. I was hoping she wouldn’t notice, but I should have known better. “It’s a long story, I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”
We dry our tears and laugh as she tells me the story behind each photo. I leave with the photo album clutched to my chest and pause at the bottom of the porch stairs. “What are you doing here?” I ask as I make my way to him.
“Rabbit, you must be insane if you think you’ll ever go anywhere without me.”
I laugh, reaching him and stopping when the toes of our shoes touch. “I hear there is a fair tonight. Fancy testing your fear of heights?”
Beckett smirks. “I’d follow you anywhere.”
I look up to him under lowered lashes. “I love you.”
He pauses, reaching his hand out to cup my face. “What did you say?”
“I said I love you.”
He bends down, kissing me in a long, passionate way you only see in films. Hungry and gentle, full of words no language can translate. Words of the heart are tricky like that. We break away, breathless. “I love you too, Brixley Archer.”
Epilogue
BECKETT
“Why are we at your parents’house?” She giggles as we sneak around the back.
“Quiet, Rabbit. We don’t want them to hear us.” I lead her through the maze, the rose garden in the middle. Her eyes flash in recognition. A pad and pencil rest on the bench and I sit, leaving her in the clearing she used to love to dance in. I grab my pencil and pad, looking up to her. “Dance for me, Rabbit,” I rasp.
She looks to me with lust-filled eyes that beckon me to her. “I don’t have a pole.” She flutters her lashes.
I laugh, shaking my head. “Then let’s dance together.” I sit my stuff down. Walking to her, I grab her hand, my other arm wrapping around her back as we sway to the sound of rustling trees. She smiles, eyes closed as she tips her head back. I reach into my pocket, gripping the ring and slipping it onto her pale, delicate finger.
She looks down to it, eyes flashing to mine. “What is this?”
I begin moving us again. “In this very spot, a little rabbit made me promise that one day I would marry her. It wasn’t a laughing matter; it was simply a fact.”
She bites her lip, eyes shining. “You remember?”
“Of course, I do.” I spin her before pulling her back to me. “So, when will we get married?”
“You didn’t ask.” She laughs.
“No, you did. Sorry it took so long for me to make that promise. So, when will we get married?”
“Soon,” she responds quickly.
“Tomorrow?” I tease.
She laughs, “Not that soon.”
So, we dance, hidden from the world. My rabbit and I. And it almost feels sinful.
As if we’re dancing in sin.
