Page 141 of The Publicity Stunt
The rain starts to fall harder and I place my hands on her hips. She wraps hers around my neck and we sway side to side.
“Why are you dressed like this?” she asks and I rest my forehead against hers.
“You don’t like it? I wanted to look the part.”
She brings her hands down to my shoulders, then back up around my neck, all the while seemingly trying to make sense of everything. “How are we going to carry it up to my place?”
“Your building has an elevator.”
“We’re dancing to no music—”
I cut her off. “April. Can it just not make sense for a little while longer?”
She looks at me and smiles. “You …” she starts to say, but instead just shakes her head. “You make it so hard to be mad at you sometimes.”
“You falling back in love with me yet?” I pull her closer and smile into her wet hair, swaying side to side as the rain continues to fall relentlessly against the sidewalk.
“Maybe,” she says.
“You can, you know. I’ll catch you.”
She laughs softly. “You can’t catch me if you’re falling too.”
My grins splits open and I hug her tight. “Sweetheart, I fell a long time ago.”
April hugs me tighter.
We still have a lot to talk about. So much to work through. I know she’s still hurting. So am I. But something tells me that it’s okay. It’s supposed to hurt. Moving on is never easy. Grief is never easy. It hits you when you’re least expecting it and there’s nothing you can do. What has happened cannot be made right. Lost people cannot be brought back. But pain doesn’t need a solution. People need people to simply see and acknowledge their grief. To hold their hand and remind them they’re not alone.
This is all easier said than done. But we’ll get past it. We’ve done it before and we can do it again. We make each other strong. And despite everything we lost, we made it back to each other.
I think we always will.
And even if we don’t work out—even though everything would seem a little less, like a toned-down version of all a person could ever feel, because anything else, anyone else, would simply be a step down—it’ll be all right.
Because as someone’s favorite Marvel couple once said, “We’ve said goodbye before, so it only stands to reason that we’ll say hello again.”
I know we will.
Two Years Later
Epilogue
April
There’s a sharp knock on the door of the closet storage I’m hiding in.
The second I open it, Parker slides into the cramped space with me and quickly locks the door behind him. “I’m so sorry,” he says, turning back around. His mouth opens in awe. “Holy shit.” Parker brings his hand up to his chest, clutching the white fabric of his shirt. “You look …”
I bite my cheek to suppress a smile, although I’m supposed to be mad at him right now. He was supposed to meet me here fifteen minutes ago. I look down and readjust the white tulle of my wedding dress. “Just so you know, you’re not getting out of being late with a few corny compliments.”
He hasn’t stopped perusing every inch of my dress. “You sure you want to marry me?” He reaches for the tulle skirt, analyzing it like it’s his wedding dress. “You look like a fucking dream, Chere. God, this is …” He drags his gaze up to my face. “You look beautiful.”
The reins holding back my smile fall loose and it slips out at full power. “You look really pretty too,” I say to him.
“Not as pretty as you.” He slides his arms around my waist and pulls me close. “I’m marrying a real-life Disney princess.”
The butterflies in my stomach explode into tinier butterflies, invading every nook and corner of my veins. “That would make you a real-life Disney prince.” I rest my palm on top of his heart, over the black fabric of his tux. “Only difference being that they were never late.”
