Epilogue
MABEL
I can hear the music blaring from the backyard as soon as I get out of the car, and it brings a wide smile to my face.
I grab my bags from the backseat and head into the house, and I’m hit with the scent of florals as soon as I step into the foyer.
I look around the lower level and laugh.
There are fresh flower bouquets in every room.
Coffee table, dining table, kitchen counter.
There’s even one on the landing at the top of the stairs.
My girlfriend is a real-life flower fairy, and I am obsessed with her.
Dropping my bags on the floor, I go to the kitchen and throw together a little plate of meat, cheese, crackers, and fruit. I also fill two glasses with water, because If I know my girl, she’s covered in dirt and dehydrated.
When I’m sure I can walk without dropping or spilling something, I head out the back door and down the little stone path that leads to Aurora’s greenhouse.
We built the greenhouse last year, about a month or so after she moved in, and it’s become a sanctuary of sorts. It’s teeming with flowers and foliage, vegetables and fruits, and there’s even a desk in the back where she can write.
Well, when it’s not littered with soil and propagations, anyway. Although, I guess that hasn’t stopped her. I think half the stuff she turns into her editor is handwritten and covered in dirt.
When I push through the door, she sees me immediately and rushes to turn down the music.
“You’re home early.” She smiles brightly, pressing a kiss to my lips before taking the water glasses and plate of food and setting them on a table. “How was the flight? How as the trip? Did the boys behave? Tell me all the things.”
I wrap my arms around her and kiss her again, smiling against her lips.
“I’m home on time, and the flight was fine.”
She pulls back in surprise, then checks the clock on the wall. “Oh shit. I must have lost track of time.”
“Time doesn’t exist in the greenhouse,” I tease, and she rolls her eyes. “Your uncle had to lay into Crue and Ezra for acting like idiots, but otherwise, the trip was uneventful.”
“I wish I could have come. This deadline is kicking my ass.”
I arch a brow. “Is that why you have dirt on your forehead and three new plants behind you?”
She gives me a sweet smile and bats her eyelashes. “It’s my process, baby. You have to respect the process.”
I shake my head. “Of course. I would never disrespect the process.”
She grins and kisses me again. “Anyway, want to read what I’ve got so far?”
“Absolutely. How many new ones since I last looked at it.”
Aurora scrunches up her nose in that cute way that I love and holds up a single finger. “One.”
“This deadline is kicking your ass,” I say on a laugh, but she waves me off and takes my hand, pulling me to her dirty, plant-covered desk.
She shuffles through some papers with scribbled writing and doodles, even picking up Arthur her orchid—careful not to disturb one of his seven beautiful flowers—to look underneath him until she finds what she’s looking for.
“Got it,” she says, handing me a piece of paper. “Be gentle. It’s raw.”
I refrain from making a raw joke, but I waggle my eyebrows at her and take pleasure in the way her cheeks flush with heat. She flares her eyes then nods to the sheet of paper.
“Go on. Read it.”
I shake my head, and just like all the other times, I hold it back out to her.
“You read it to me. I like them in your voice.”
She hesitates, narrows her eyes as if she finds me ridiculous but loves it, then plucks the paper from my hand. She straightens her shoulders, clears her throat, and reads.
I wore a thousand yesterdays
buttoned tight:
wrong sleeves,
inside-out dreams,
and shoes that blistered
souls
and feet
I tried on the quiet,
and danced in the loud.
I stitched a few maybes
into the hem of my now.
until a life,
both hers and mine
slipped over my shoulders
and down my thighs.
no bars
no walls
but fresh blooms
and deep breaths
of all the lives
that I’ve traveled in,
you are the perfect fit.”
She finishes and looks at me with a nervous smile.
“Again, it’s rough. I tried with a rhyme scheme, and I kind of lose it in the end, so I have to rework it, but the premise stays the same.”
I work to keep tears from my eyes, but I’m absolutely terrible at it. I always am.
“I love it,” I say honestly, and she smiles.
“I love you.”
I take her face in my hands and kiss her again, grateful that I have the freedom to do this whenever I want. Whenever I need to. Like water. Like air. Like light, she gives me everything I need to thrive, and like a flower to the sun, I will always reach for her. Always.
I rest my forehead on hers and smile against her lips.
“It’s beautiful. I think you get better with every new poem.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I guess you would know best.”
“I would?”
“Yeah. My poems are my heart on the page, after all, and no one knows my heart better than you do.”
I pull back and bounce my eyes between hers, hazel-green and filled with a galaxy of starbursts.
I love her. I’m so damn in love with her that I could burst with it.
I love her so deeply and infinitely that there aren’t enough words in the English language for me to describe it.
Yet, somehow, she manages to do it perfectly in just a few stanzas every time.
“What are you thinking, Brooklyn Susan Ainsely Mabel Rossi?”
I laugh lightly, then press one more kiss to her lips.
“I’m thinking that I’ve tried on a lot of lives, Aurora Jade Hammond, but this one, with you, is my favorite.”
THE END
(for now)