One Last Time: A Second Chance Romance

by Roxie Noir

  “And then at the end, they both propose to her? Even though she’s the one choosing?”

  “It’s weird,” I agree. “Though the nice Bachelorettes usually don’t let the guy they’re rejecting get that far. The dude makes some speech, and sort of goes to kneel, and she’s like, ‘Noooo, don’t do that!’”

  “But God forbid she propose.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Do any of them actually get married and stay together?”

  Around us, people are drifting through the rows of seats, greeting one another, sitting down. The trees above us sway in the breeze, shade moving and shifting.

  It’s a beautiful day for a wedding.

  “I think a couple have,” I say. “I don’t watch it religiously, I mostly drink wine with my best friend and marvel at the life choices being made.”

  Thalia laughs, throwing her head back, and I grin.

  When Seth told me Caleb’s girlfriend was a year younger than Ava, I worried. I remember myself at twenty-two all too well, and I was absolutely not the kind of person anyone should have switched careers for.

  But Thalia’s nothing like I was. She’s got her shit together in a way that took me years. I think she’s probably more mature than I am now.

  They’ll be fine.

  “That actually sounds really fun,” she says.

  “Let me know next time you’re in town, we’ll make it happen,” I offer. “You’d love Lainey, too.”

  “I think I already do,” Thalia says, just as a small, chubby hand enters my field of vision.

  I turn my head to see Thomas grinning at me, mouth open, drool on his chin, reaching for my hair.

  “Can I help you?” I ask.

  He just reaches harder against Charlie’s arm until he finally makes contact, and I start laughing. Charlie looks over from her conversation with Violet and sighs.

  “Dude, you can’t just grab hair,” she says, putting her finger into his outstretched hand and wiggling it. “It’s impolite.”

  Thomas, who has no use for her finger, shoves it away and reaches for me again.

  “I can take him,” I offer. “This’ll keep him entertained for a while.”

  “Sure, if you dont mind,” Charlie says.

  Thomas doesn’t mind, and a moment later, he’s on my lap, patting at my hair with wide eyes.

  “Hey, cutie,” Thalia says, leaning in. “I like your outfit.”

  Thomas, who’s currently nine months old, is wearing a very small and adorable suit, along with a bandana to catch the drool. It’s a lot of look.

  He grins at Thalia and makes some noises, showing off all five teeth.

  “The bib with the suit is a strong choice, but you’re making it work,” she agrees. “Though I can’t help but notice that —”

  She stops as music fills the air, the opening strains of something bluegrassy, and everyone in the audience turns, goes silent.

  The aisle between the two sets of chairs leads to a path that cuts between two trees and then disappears. It’s only about fifty feet until it comes out the other side, by the old hunting lodge-turned-wedding venue, but it makes the clearing where the ceremony’s taking place feel magical, like it’s in the middle of nowhere.

  After a few moments, June’s brother Silas emerges, a leather-bound folder in his hand, and walks very officially down the aisle, taking his place behind a microphone at the front.

  Thomas giggles at nothing, and Charlie looks over.

  “You like Uncle Silas?” she whispers.

  Next are Rusty and Hedwig, Levi and June’s dog. Originally, Rusty was supposed to be the flower girl, but when it came time to get the outfit, she decided that flower girl wasn’t really her thing.

  She then decided that her thing was beastmaster, and now she’s wearing a three-piece gray suit, her curly hair piled on her head, and walking Ringbearer Hedwig. When they walk past our row, she glances over at Charlie like she’s a little nervous.

  Charlie grins and gives her a giant thumbs up. Thomas squeals, because he’s obsessed with his big sister. They sit in front of us, and Charlie leans over and gives Rusty a kiss on the back of the head.

  Finally, the wedding parties walk in. One by one, each Loveless brother glances at our row as they escort a bridesmaid down the aisle. Daniel grins at Charlie, Thomas, and Rusty. Caleb winks at Thalia. Eli gives Violet a serious, smoldering look.

  “He must’ve found the note I put in his pocket,” Violet whispers to us.

  Seth is last. His hair’s behaving for once, his suit fits perfectly, and honestly, he’s just hot as fuck. When he walks by, he gives me a look like he’s laughing at some private joke we have, and then Thomas pulls my hair.

  The music changes, and everyone looks to the back again. A moment later, Levi and Clara step out from the path. She says something to him, and he laughs, then smiles the whole way down the aisle. At the end she gives him a huge, long hug, then sits next to Rusty.

  “How’d I do?” she whispers.

  Rusty gives her the a-ok sign.

  Then we all stand. I heave Thomas into my arms, Charlie gives me a you good? Look, and I nod.

  June and her parents emerge and walk down the aisle. Her dress isn’t quite traditional: it falls to just past her knees, and it’s mostly white with blue flowers embroidered on it.

  Thomas grabs at my hair, and I remove his hand. He tries the other one. I block that too and look up to see June hugging her parents, and then turning to Levi.

  He lights all the way up, like he’s giddy to see her. They join hands, she takes her place, and then he leans in and whispers something in her ear.

  June laughs, and I swear Levi lights up even brighter. He kisses her hands, grinning.

  Silas clears his throat into the microphone, and they both look up.

  “Excuse me,” he says, and the whole audience laughs. “Not yet.”

  June says something we can’t hear, but Silas just shrugs.

  “Listen, you’re the one who thought it was a good idea to give me a microphone,” he says, and everyone laughs again.

  He flips open the folder in a very official manner.

  “Please be seated,” he begins. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union…”

  I check out Seth again. Still hot. It’s the same suit he wore to Ava’s wedding, since Levi thought the idea of making his brothers buy new suits was ridiculous, and I take a few moments to fondly remember the way it looked on the floor that night.

  “…at this gathering,” Silas is saying. “If anyone has any —"

  He frowns.

  “No one’s objecting, I thought I took that part out. Sorry,” he says, and then grins. It’s a very charming grin. “If you’ve got an objection, come talk to me later.”

  More laughter, and the wedding proceeds as weddings do. They wrote their own vows. June cries. Her maid of honor cries. Violet cries. I cry. Levi wipes away a tear, and when I look at Seth, he’s clenching his jaw pretty hard.

  Then, finally, Silas declares them husband and wife, and they kiss. The whole audience erupts into cheering, and when they walk back down the aisle, Levi is grinning and laughing like I’ve never seen before.

  Now Charlie’s crying. Violet hands her a tissue.

  “Right?” she says, and Charlie nods.

  Violet and I walk down a brick walkway, between some flowers, and into a small clearing with a single statue of a cherub in it.

  “I don’t think this is the Eagle’s Nest Garden,” she says suspiciously. “Shit.”

  “No eagles and no nests,” I agree, and we both pull out our phones to look at the itinerary June sent us.

  “Is this the north side of the lodge or the south side?” she asks, flipping her phone around.

  I just look at her, and she starts laughing.

  “I have no idea,” I say, also laughing. “Do you have a compass? Where does the sun set?”

  “Of course Levi would have us orienteering to get to th
e photo session,” she says.

  The garden finds us before we find it, in the form of Eli leaning past a tangle of trees and shouting Violet’s name.

  “Did you get lost?” he asks.

  “No,” she says, laughing.

  “You got lost.”

  “I chose to find you in a different way,” she says, stands on her tiptoes, and gives him a kiss.

  “Did you get lost?” Seth asks, and I turn.

  He’s still shined up like a penny, so I spend a moment checking him out as is my right.

  “Not technically,” I say, and adjust his corsage by a fraction of an inch.

  He catches my hand and pulls me in for a kiss. It’s chaste, family-appropriate, but longer than just a hello kiss.

  “You did great,” I tell him.

  “I did nothing,” he points out.

  “You looked good doing it?”

  He grins.

  “Go on.”

  There are shouts, and we turn to see several people waving at us.

  “Groomsmen again!” Caleb shouts, and Seth sighs.

  “At least we haven’t had to jump yet,” he says.

  I wander over to Thalia and watch it unfold. Being a wedding photographer looks like herding cats who don’t know how to smile properly.

  Then they want a shot of the whole family, so Violet and Charlie head into the chaos, along with the kids. Over in girlfriends’ corner, Thalia and I look at each other but don’t move.

  “You two!” Clara shouts. “Come on!”

  I’m happy to plunge myself into the chaos.

  I shut the glass door behind me and walk out onto the patio overlooking the forest. It’s dark, and Seth turns as I walk up to him, a whiskey glass in one hand. I lean on the railing next to him.

  “Cooling off for a minute,” he says. “I didn’t expect Levi to have this much of a party.”

  “Well, June’s also involved,” I point out.

  “True,” he says, and then he turns around, his back to the railing. He grabs my hand and pulls me over to him. “You having a good time, Bird?”

  “I’m having a great time,” I tell him.

  “Good,” he says, and kisses me.

  It’s the long, slow kiss I didn’t get earlier, the one I wanted right after the ceremony was over. The one I couldn’t give him in front of his entire family and half the Forest Service.

  When it ends, he’s still got a hand on my waist, my arms around his neck, and he sips from his glass over one.

  “You want to know something?” he asks, giving me that slightly off-kilter smile I love.

  “Sure,” I say.

  “You looked hot with a baby,” he says, fingers stroking my back.

  “Seth, that’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever said to me,” I say, laughing.

  “It’s not that weird,” he says. “Also, I’m kind of drunk, and you were hot with a baby. I’m not saying the baby was hot. The baby was cute. You were hot. I think you’d also be a hot pregnant lady. And a hot bride. Really, you’re just hot.”

  I’m still laughing, leaning against him, and I’m glad it’s dark because now I’m blushing. It’s been three months since the Varmint Palace, and while on the one hand it seems like that’s too soon to be telling me I’d be hot while pregnant, it’s… not.

  It’s Seth. For us, time is a little blurred: has it been fifteen years, or since Ava’s wedding?

  “I hear babies are bad for your sex life,” I tease, and he laughs.

  “I’m not saying now,” he says. “One, you’re still babyproofed,” — that’s what he calls my IUD — “and two, I am not done enjoying our two-of-us time.”

  He finishes off his drink, sets the glass down, puts his hands back on my waist. The dancing is in full swing inside, and he’s got his jacket off, his sleeves rolled up, his tie loosened.

  Have I mentioned how fuckable he is like this?

  Fuck. A. Ble.

  “I think they’re doing the cake soon,” I say, sliding my arms around him.

  “Good, I like cake,” he says, and slides his arms down my back.

  Then he grabs my ass. He squeezes. He cups, caresses.

  “You’re grabbing my ass in public,” I point out.

  “Yeah. It’s great, right?” he asks, and I laugh.

  He’s slightly drunker than I thought, and he leans down, cups my face in his hand, suddenly serious as he looks into my eyes, thumb on my cheekbone.

  “I want this for us,” he finally says. “All of this. I want the wedding and the babies and the cake and all that stuff, but I want… this. I want love and joy and family and celebrations like this and I want it with you.”

  “Seth, you have it,” I tell him. “This is yours, too. You get to share it. It’s your family, your celebration, your joy.”

  “And the love of my life.”

  I stand on my toes, bring his forehead down to mine.

  “And the love of my life,” I whisper.

  We kiss. It feels like the stars wheel through the sky overhead, like trees sway and sigh, like the clouds part and the moon shines through. It feels like birds fly and fairies get their wings.

  Then, the door opens. Small feet thump out, and we turn to see Rusty, now in a vest and shirtsleeves, run up to us.

  “Uncle Seth! Delilah!” she says. “CAKE!”

  Then she’s gone, and we’re both laughing.

  “All right, you heard her,” Seth says, and stands up straight, takes my hand.

  Then he looks over at me, his face naked, vulnerable.

  “I love you,” he says.

  I kiss his hand, held in mine.

  “I love you too,” I tell him.

  Together, we go back to the celebration.

  Epilogue

  Delilah

  Two Years Later

  “There’s no way it hurt this much the first time,” he says, still staring at a spot on the ceiling.

  “Probably because you talked less,” I say, dabbing at his skin again.

  “You have no idea how much I talked,” he says.

  “It’s an educated guess,” I tell him, the gun still in my hand. “Everyone knows that the more you complain about it, the more it hurts.”

  He turns his head and looks at me, though he’s very careful not to move anything else.

  “Did Lainey get that from some study?” he teases. “What are your sources?”

  “That one’s folk wisdom, but folk wisdom is usually right,” I admit, sitting back. I grab the light and move it around a little, press my fingers into his arm, double check the lines and the dots and the brand new star that matches the one on my wrist.

  “I’d flex for you, but my arm kinda hurts,” he teases.

  I roll my eyes at him, still smiling.

  “That tattoo must have really hurt,” I say in faux-sympathy.

  “Okay, okay,” Seth says. “Point taken.”

  I switch the gun off, put it back on the tray, and hold up a mirror so he can check it out a little better.

  “Perfect,” he says, and touches his arm with his other hand.

  I grab his wrist, still wearing gloves.

  “No touching,” I tell him.

  “You this handsy with all your clients?” he asks, grinning.

  I put the mirror back but don’t let go of Seth’s wrist.

  “Most of them know better than to poke a brand new tattoo,” I say.

  Seth just grins and pulls his arm away, bringing my hand with it. He’s still in my dentist-style tattoo chair, and when I try to let him go he just grabs my hand himself and keeps pulling.

  “Hey,” I protest, but I don’t protest too hard. “We’re not done.”

  “You look like you need a break,” he says, very seriously.

  “That would be wildly unprofessional of me,” I say, leaning on the arm of the chair.

  “I promise not to tell the… Board of Tattoos?” he says, raising one eyebrow.

  “Yes, our very real central governing bo
dy is notoriously strict,” I deadpan.

  I pull my hand free of his, then take my gloves off and toss them on the tray, too, as Seth reaches over and grabs the belt loop of my denim shorts and tugs me toward him. He took his shirt off while I touched up his constellation tattoo, so now he’s reclining half-naked in my chair and giving me a lazy hey there look.

  “I don’t usually do this with customers,” I tease, not budging.

  That gets a double eyebrow raise.

  “Usually?” he says, voice going low, and I grin.

  “Hardly ever,” I say.

  “C’mere,” he says, and grabs the waistband of my shorts, tugs gently.

  I stand, swing my leg over the chair, and straddle him.

  “And definitely not with customers who complain as much as you did,” I say, leaning forward.

  “I thought maybe I could get some sympathy kisses,” he says, and I laugh. “What?”

  “From me?” I tease. “Of all people? Harden the fuck up, Seth.”

  “Damn,” he says. “Guess whose Yelp review just got lowered to three stars.”

  “Three?” I protest. “You took off two stars for that?”

  “Just one,” he says.

  I sit back, still on his lap, and put my hands on his knees. My shorts are riding up, garters visible, and I can see him sneaking looks. Apparently, they still haven’t gotten old.

  “You would four-star me for a great, free tattoo?” I ask, mock-offended.

  “I was gonna offer you the option of earning the fifth star.”

  “Let me guess,” I say, tapping a finger against his knee. “By being a great conversationalist? Ooh, or for giving you really clear aftercare instructions?”

  “Close,” he says, and grabs the bottom of my tank top, winds the fabric around his fingers.

  “For opening the shop on a Sunday, then,” I tease, leaning forward.

  “Almost,” he says, sliding his hands over my butt.

  I rest my forearms on his chest, lower my face to his.

  “Then I don’t know what could possibly earn me that extra star,” I say. “Enlighten me.”

  He kisses me, obviously. He cups my ass in his hands and I roll my hips against him and kiss him back, long, slow, lazy kisses. We make out with no ulterior motive, just to make out, because we’ve had the no sex in the tattoo shop discussion before.