Epilogue
The tingling starts the moment I open my eyes. Today's the day. Exactly one year from the day that I truly met Seth, we are boarding a plane home to Utah. Behind me, Seth’s arms wrap around me, letting me know that I'm not alone and that I'm safe.
“Computer, good morning.” I croak.
I smile when his customary groan sounds in my ear.
He's not much of a morning person, so it's an almost daily occurrence. Another almost daily occurrence is his morning wood nestled between my ass cheeks. I would probably help him out with that, but now that I’ve remembered what today is, my breathing is already starting to pick up.
His strong arms constrict around me, and he nuzzles the side of my head.
“You've got this today, Princess. We've got this.”
I take a minute and do one of the grounding exercises Amanda has taught me, naming five things I can see, four things I can touch, three things I can hear, two things I can smell, and one thing I can taste.
Seth’s grey arms, my gorgeous black bookshelves, the glow in the dark stars we put on the ceiling so they’d contrast with the dark green paint, Seth’s book on my nightstand, and his adorable bunny slippers on the floor.
I can touch his warm, smooth skin, the sheets, which are soft—if a little too warm—the silk of my bathrobe where it hangs on the back of the bathroom door, and my hair, a little mussed.
Next, I can hear our Christmas lofi music playing, the coffee maker as it percolates to life, and the wind as it shakes the last of the leaves outside.
I can smell the fresh scent of our sheets that I washed last night, and Seth’s warm balsam and cranberry.
Taste… well, it’s first thing in the morning, so the taste isn’t ideal. Still, that is easily fixed.
Now, I can breathe a little easier.
Seth has also learned some of the questions Amanda and I use to explore my false beliefs, so I know if things get really bad, we can talk it out.
"Alright, Princess, here we go. "
We dropped Henry at my friend Chrissy’s house last night, so I’m a little sad that I don’t hear Henry snoozing anywhere.
He’s too big to come on the plane with us.
The bonus is I have an in-person friend, and she’s only too happy to watch Henry.
Chrissy and I met in a yarn store a few months ago, and it’s been really, really good for me—I think—to have a friend who I can do things with in person.
It’s a little weird that she still thinks Seth is a human, but Fae knowing is enough for me.
This morning just isn't the same without Henry here, and even though I knew that would be the case, it still makes my heart pinch a little bit.
As I get ready, the changes around my house serve as reminders of me embracing my most authentic self and the life that we're building together. On the walls, there are pictures of the two of us together, but more importantly, art that Seth’s drawn—trying to describe the dream realm to me.
My closet’s half filled with his clothes, and in the bathroom, his skincare sits next to mine.
Dark, intricately patterned rugs have replaced the boring beige ones that used to litter my house like quicksand—just waiting to drag me down into mediocrity.
Best of all, Henry’s fur doesn’t show up so bad now that we’ve gotten a bunch of black velvet slipcovers for the couch and chairs.
When I pad out into the living room, Seth is already making breakfast, which means I can take a minute on the couch to check in with my clients. I've already got a message from Fae, because even though she's an hour behind me time-wise, she has little kids.
F: Good morning! You've got this today! I'm so proud of you.
Another notification pops up from Chrissy.
C: Good morning from both of us! I've got the coziest snuggle buddy this morning.
She's included a picture of her and Henry on her bed; he does look super cozy.
I shoot them both a good morning message while Seth hands me a cup of coffee. I know I'm probably not gonna have coffee for the next several days, so I've been drinking the “devil’s bean juice” every chance I can. He flops down on the couch next to me, holding out a plate of toast.
"Are you ready?"
“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”
We have breakfast and get everything ready to go, my anxiety ramping up the whole time. By the time we walk out the door, I'm shaking and feel like I'm about to vomit.
It's not because I'm leaving the house, because over the course of this past year, I've slowly gotten used to that. Two months ago was the first time I left the house and realized I hadn't even thought about the fact that I was leaving—I’d just left.
These days, I can go to the grocery store or over to Chrissy’s house for dinner with no stress.
But today, we're going to an airport.
We booked the flight out of Manchester instead of Boston, so I wouldn't have to confront the city or the train yet, but it still feels like a massive step.
I blow out air in a thin stream like I'm extinguishing a candle as I lock the door.
I can do this.
I'm not going to be in any alleys or anywhere dark at any point.
We purposely booked our flight so that we would leave and arrive during the daytime.
Plus, I'll have my personal attack nightmare with me the entire time.
When I turn around, Seth sets down the suitcases he’s brought out and grabs my hand. He smiles, tugging me into his chest, and points above us.
“Mistletoe!” I gasp, because it hadn’t been there yesterday. The house is littered with the stuff, since Seth now knows it means we get to kiss, but we hadn’t bothered putting any on the porch.
“I realized that I never got to kiss you under this last year—”
“Only because we barely left the house!” I squealed as he burrows his face in my neck.
“Well, that’s true,” he says, giving me a bit of a nip. “I don’t think I could have ever imagined this when I hung it last year. Hells, I had no idea what it was even for, nevermind that I’d be kissing you here a year later.”
“Me neither… but I’m pretty happy about it.”
“Same. I’m proud of you, you know. I know I say it all the time, but I am.” He sweeps me off my feet and catches my lips with his.
I still get butterflies every time we kiss, and I don’t anticipate it stopping anytime soon.
“Right, then!” he says, setting me down facing the drive and smacking me on the ass. “Let’s do this!”
Seth squeezes my arms from behind and picks up our bags. They’re roller bags, but that's not going to come in handy until we're at the airport. I shipped all of our presents ahead, so we're able to travel relatively light.
As we crunch over the gravel—it still hasn't snowed—I sneak a look over at Seth. He's shifted to the human form he’s learned how to take on thanks to guidance from his flirtatious and strange friend, Rhys. We’re wearing matching black sweatsuits today, though he's still wearing his mask.
He'll take it off when he needs to, but during times like this, he's really lovely about wearing it to help me stay calm, even if it makes him look like a bit of a weirdo.
My little Civic doesn't look sad anymore. In fact, now it's covered with a bunch of stickers. Band stickers, some with funny sayings, and souvenir ones from all the places that we've gone together.
You’d be surprised at how many places have stickers. There's even one from the grocery store on my car, my first. Every sticker is a win over my anxiety, large or small, and every one makes me ridiculously proud, no matter how silly they make my car look.
Seth throws the bags in the trunk and climbs into the passenger seat. We haven't quite gotten around to him learning how to drive yet. So far, our priorities have been getting me out of the house and doing the bare minimum to figure out what the heck we need for Seth to travel.
We've got his plane ticket and travel papers squared away—Rhys magicked something up for us, I try not to ask about his methods—but for now, I still do all the driving.
For the first 20 minutes or so, while we're still north of the capital, I'm able to lie to myself that we're just going into town—well, the bigger town—since my little one doesn't have any big box stores.
Once we're on the other side of the capital though… I start shaking, and Seth takes my hand. He squeezes it, kissing the back of it.
To distract me, he flips on some holiday music, singing it at the top of his lungs.
“Ay, Jing-a-di-jing hee haw hee haw. It's Dominick the Donkey!”
Of course he picked the most ridiculous song of them all. I’d never heard it until I moved to New England, but it became an instant favorite.
“You’re evil,” I deadpan, though I can’t keep the corner of my mouth from lifting.
“Jing-a-di-jing hee haw hee haw. The Italian Christmas Donkey!” He raises his brows in time with the music, making his mask shift.
Giggling, I can’t help but join in on all the “la-la-las,” Seth’s diabolical plan to distract me succeeding.
As we sing songs about the joys of the season, I can’t help but think about how lucky I am. And anyway, isn’t that what the holidays are about? Being grateful for the ones you love?
Grateful barely even begins to cover how I feel about Seth, but it is an entirely true, entirely amazing start. I sing along, stealing glimpses at him every chance I get. This trip is a big deal for him, too. It’s a big deal for us.
Before I know it, I'm pulling into the parking garage. As soon as I turn off the car, the music stops abruptly, and the sudden silence crowds in on me.
I didn't like planes before my attack, and though I'm used to leaving the house now, I'm now confronted with one million new mini-bosses on the way to the final boss of this trip: the plane ride.
Reviewing the plan, I know that we've checked in online, we've picked our seats online, and all we have to do is go to the counter and drop off our bags. It's a tiny airport, so security should be a non-issue, and Seth has promised me Dunks as a little treat.
He's got his own money since he started publishing comics online. It started as a joke, because he was trying to explain this weird dream he visited once. He ended up drawing it, and I told him he should post it online. He doesn’t make a ton of money, but I’m honestly shocked at how quickly it’s catching on.
I tell him he should spend it on himself, but he loves it when he can treat me to something that I wouldn't normally get myself. He’s made it his own personal mission to ensure I have all the “sexy goth girl” clothes, as he calls them, that my heart could possibly desire.
Today, I'll settle for a Boston cream.
I can do this.
I know I can.
I can go to the airport, I can walk through those doors.
I can defeat all the stupid little mini-bosses on the way to actually getting on the plane. I can sit for four hours on that fucking plane and finally get to hug my family again.
Seth sees me hesitating, because of course he does, and nudges me with his shoulder. "Do you need the mask to stay on?”
“No.” I shake my head, somewhat surprised that it's true.
“I know you can be my personal attack nightmare in seconds if I need it.
But, I also don't want us to have any issues getting through security.” The mask dissolves from his face, and suddenly he looks human.
He's still super tall, and mega thick, like he could win one of those strongman competitions, and I know we'll get stares the whole way through the airport.
Seth isn't the kind of guy that you forget easily.
He's got a dimple in his cheek when he smiles, just one, which somehow makes it even more dangerous.
We sometimes get a few sidelong looks because of our disparate appearances, me a plus-sized woman, and him a muscular hunk of a man, but I ignore them. Being by Seth’s side, knowing his devotion to me and how obsessed he is with my body, it’s easy not to care.
So, I squeeze his hand back and nod. “Let's do this.”
My mom screams as soon as we step out of the doors when we arrive in Salt Lake, and I barely have time to register it before she's wrapped me up in a hug.
She squeezes me so tight, smelling like the vanilla lavender perfume she's always favored.
The scent draws me back to being a little girl, so excited about Christmas morning.
She holds me at arm’s length, and I know that I probably look a mess after the flight. My hair is up in a messy bun, and who knows what happened to my makeup since I fell asleep on Seth’s shoulder.
"Look at you!" she exclaims, her own long brown hair cascading down her shoulders even though she's wearing expensive activewear like she's about to go to the gym. "You look amazing, Muffin!" She pulls back from our hug and holds her arms out to Seth. "And you! Seth! It's so nice to meet you!"
"It's wonderful to meet you too, Mrs. Kimball.”
"Oh, stop, please call me Sue." She hugs him, mouthing, “he's so tall!” to me.
I wink at her and chuckle a little bit, because she has no idea how tall he actually is. He’s shaved off a good six inches of this form to sell the whole “of course I’m a human” thing.
Sharp honks alert us to where my dad stands next to the car. "Are we gonna go home or are we gonna stand at the airport all day?" he chides.
On the drive back to our house, I smile at how festively everything is decorated, the jokes my dad and Seth make on the drive home, and at myself. I did this. I'm home for Christmas.
The next several days are a whirlwind of people and presents, food and festivities.
I get to snuggle so many nieces and nephews, including little Parker.
I’m the only one who doesn’t live in Utah, so it’s no surprise that everyone is over so often.
I wish I had a little more one-on-one time with Seth, but it’s no different from what we knew to expect.
Since we aren't married, I'm sleeping in my childhood bedroom, and Seth is in the guest room. My mom was so adorably awkward when she said she knew that we lived together, and that we could do whatever we wanted in our own house, but while we were in hers, we’d abide by her and Dad's rules. We knew that’d be the case, so we haven't raised a stink about it.
I miss him the most when I'm in bed alone, but I always know he will join me in my dreams the second I’m asleep. Tonight, as we say goodnight, his kiss lingers a little longer than usual.
Pulling me in for a hug after, he whispers in my ear. “Sleep in something easy to remove, Princess.”
“Deal.”