Page 86 of Filthy Little Midlife Fling

I met and married the love of my life. I was accepted into his life—into his child’s life—with open arms. I’ve finally found somewhere I belong, where I don’t need to be perfect to be loved.

Slipping out of bed, I wrap a robe around my body and pad downstairs. On bare feet, I walk over the front lawn to the magnolia tree in full bloom. The wound from my van’s front grille has healed, and the tree seems to be thriving once more. This is the tree that brought Remy into my life. It’s the tree that provided him with a safe haven as a child, the tree that kept the memory of his sister alive throughout all these years. I touch the smooth green bark and whisper, “Thank you.”

A creak makes me turn around. Remy steps off the front porch and joins me under the fragrant white blooms. He wraps his arms around me as we inhale the scent of the flowers and the cool night air.

“I dream of a day,” Remy says quietly, “when I’ll wake up, old and wrinkled, and you’ll be by my side. I’ll wrap my arms around you and pull you close. We’ll make love, because I’ll be obsessed with you until the day I die. Then we’ll have coffee in the backyard and listen to the birds. We’ll putter around the garden, and you’ll show me a new organization system for all my seeds. Then, at dinnertime, Danny will come home with his wife and kids, if he has them, and tell us some piece of good news that will make us want to celebrate. We’ll have a delicious meal together, share a bottle of wine, and then head up to bed. You’ll smile at me and tell me you love me, and we’ll fall asleep next to each other knowing that the next day will be just as good.”

My chest tightens as I listen to Remy’s words, knowing he’s not only speaking to me, but to his sister’s memory.

“What’s the good news that Danny will share?” I ask.

“I don’t know yet,” Remy replies, smiling. “We’ll have to wait and find out.”

“I love you, husband.”

Remy touches his nose to mine. “And I love you, wife.”

We kiss softly, tenderly, and then breathe in the sweet night air. Under the branches of a blooming magnolia tree, I lean my head against his chest and know that all of our dreams will come true.

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