"Mum?" I cry incredulously, as I stare at my father askance.

He must be mistaken. He has to be, surely to goodness.

But as he sheepishly lifts his eyes, there's something in his downcast expression that causes an unsettling doubt to quell in the pit of my stomach, making me feel a bit ill.  And suddenly I'm not so sure.

"She thought it was for the best, love. In the long run." He says gravely.

And now I'm on my feet, I don't think I even intended to stand up but it's like I'm not in control of my own movements. "What do you mean? Are you.....are you saying she kept the letters from me?"

"Yes....I'm afraid she did."

Oh God no. This cannot be real. I don't want it to be real.
Why would my own mother do such a thing? Knowing how much Brett meant to me, HOW could she do such a thing?
And how could my dad keep it quiet from me?

Finding out that Jane and dad knew about this, only adds insult to injury.
It's like they've all conspired behind my back. In my eyes, that makes them almost as guilty as my mother. Almost.

Okay, so whilst they misguidedly may have had my best interests at heart, the sense of betrayal cuts me to the quick.
They're my family.
At least you sort of expect others to be underhanded and do shady, dodgy shit to you. Life teaches you to expect it.
But not from your parents.

The thoughtless selfishness of all involved, enrages me. Hurt and anger are boiling in my blood and I wish I had my own room, so I could flounce off like a melodramatic teenager and scream and cry into my pillow.

"But....but you hated Brett over this. You hated him for the longest time. It makes no sense! Why would you hate him if you knew it wasn't his fault?"

Even as I speak a memory of my dad ranting about Brett comes flooding back. I remember it as clear as day.
During one of his visits up North, he stumbled upon a piece in the Mirror newspaper about Brett taking the time to sign autographs before a concert...
"Hmf...have you read this shite? He's going on about 'The fans, the fans, the fans'....Well you were his biggest fan, and he threw you away. What an arsehole!"

Dad rubs his face now with his hands, looking monumentally uncomfortable. "Because I didn't know then, Sam. She literally only told me recently, and that was only because she knew you were coming down. The last thing she wanted was for you to bump into him and-"

"And find out the truth!" I yell, but he shakes his head.

"No, that you'd end up back together. I told her she should never have interfered, but she worries that you'll end up getting hurt."

I scoff, having to refrain from laughing without mirth. The hypocrisy is staggering. The irony is unbearable. "The only person who has hurt me, is her. She's hurt me more than he ever could." I say bitterly. "But you know what? It's going to make telling her all the more satisfying!"

I stomp over to the phone before my dad can stop me, and my hands are shaking with temper as I punch at the numbers. I can barely see straight I am so angry. Temporarily blinded by my fury.

"Sam, are you sure this isn't a conversation best saved for when you see your mother?" Jane dares to pipe up. "I think the two of you would benefit from sitting down and having a proper chat, rather than you flying off the handle."

"No, I need to speak to her now." I snap, impatiently drumming my fingers on the telephone table. "She needs to be told. She's no right sticking her nose in, absolutely no-bloody-right!"

Jane nods meekly. "I agree, hon. And you have every right to be angry. But do you really think that-"

I cut her off by rudely raising a hand to silence her, as I hear the tell-tale sound of the phone being picked up at the other end, followed by my mother's voice. "Hello?"

And suddenly I don't know what to say or where to begin. The words seem to get stuck in my throat, which is tightening as I almost choke on the pain I am feeling.

"Hello?" She asks again, a little less patiently this time.

"Mum....did you..." I stop myself, no that's not right. I know she did. "...mum, why did you keep Brett's letters from me?" I blurt out.

Silence.

I close my eyes, and try to steady my breathing before continuing. "I know you didn't give them to me, what I don't get is why....why would you do that to me? Mum, you....you know how much he means to me-"

"Means? Are you saying that you still have feelings for him, even now after all this time?"
I hear the surprise in her voice, and it takes everything in me not to hurl the phone at the wall in a childish fit of temper.

"Yes! I've never stopped loving him, mum. And he's still in love with me."

"I take it you've seen him then?" She huffs, and I'm floored by her gall.
Anyone would think I was madly in love with Hannibal Lecter, the way she's carrying on.
"Sam, I only did what I thought was necessary in order to protect you."

"Protect me from what? Getting hurt? That wasn't your call to make, and besides all you've done is hurt me! You couldn't just let me make my own choices could you? You had no right, mum!"

"Sam, I would never want to hurt you. But you were so young. I didn't realise he meant so much to you. I thought maybe it was just a phase you were going through."

"Would it have made any difference? I don't think it would, you know. I haven't outgrown him, it wasn't just a fickle crush. And I wasn't a child!" My voice raises erratically, wobbling with emotion.

"No, but you were naive and impressionable. Once you met him you developed insecurities about your weight, you even made yourself dangerously ill. You changed your looks for him. That is why I thought you'd be better off not being involved with someone like that."

I swallow hard, forcing down the tennis ball-sized lump in my throat. "That was my doing, not his. I was a complete idiot and I learned the hard way. Brett didn't want me to change, I was just too stupid to think he could want me the way I was. But mum, I know better now, he loves me...all of me, for who I am."

I hear an audible sigh. "So he says. They're all the same his sort. These rockstar types. I bet he says that to all the women who've fallen for him!"

I suck in my cheeks, feeling as if a herd of stampeding wildebeest have just trampled me into the ground.
Her blatant scepticism and complete disregard for my feelings incenses me to the point of blistering, incandescent rage.

"Oh my God! Why do you have to be so bloody negative and judgemental?" I rake my free hand through my hair in agitation until it sticks out at frizzy, unruly angles from my head. Making me look demented no doubt. "You don't even know him. You couldn't be more wrong about him, and in time you'll realise that."

"In time? Sam you can't be serious. You don't understand what loving a man like that will do to you. What it's already done."

"No, YOU don't understand." I say assertively. "It's MY life! You don't get to decide how I feel or what I do....I do."

There's a pause as she digests this thoroughly, and I think at last I'm finally getting through to her. My point has well and truly been made.

"Yes, I suppose so." She admits at last, begrudgingly. "I am sorry, if I hurt you. That is the very last thing I ever want to do....perhaps I made a mistake. I misjudged the situation."

"You most certainly did." I rasp, as a sob rises in my throat and I know she hears it.

"Please don't hate me, Samantha.....if I can make it up to you somehow, I will. I can't turn back time, what's done is done, but if I can do anything to make things better....I will."

I take a deep breath. My head is suddenly pounding and it's making it difficult for me to think straight. I feel so emotionally wrung out, like I've been put through one of those old fashioned clothes mangles. "Of course I don't hate you, you're my mum...but you can make things right by.....by giving Brett a chance. You need to accept that I love him"

Another lengthy pause, and I hold my breath. The anticipation is agonising. I need to hear it from her. I need to hear that she'll set aside all the wrong assumptions she's made about Brett.
About the man I love.
Maybe then, if she is wholeheartedly willing to give him a fair chance to prove his worth, then I'll be able to forgive the betrayal...the injustice of it all.

"Fine." She answers at last. "Whatever you wish, Sam. If it means it'll make you happy."

I exhale shakily, feeling some of my anxieties lifting.
She's not exactly jumping for joy or falling over herself, but it's something.

That is, at least it's a start.

***************

After the confrontational phone conversation with my mum, I desperately need to offload and hear words of comfort from someone who isn't family.
I was sorely tempted to call Brett, but as I'd be seeing him soon anyway I don't want to risk bugging the shit out of him by becoming one of those annoyingly clingy, needy girlfriends who can't make it through the day without telephoning their poor, put-upon boyfriend. Especially when said boyfriend has issues of his own enough to deal with at this moment in time.

So I opt for phoning Rae, who is still one of my closest friends and go-to, when I need someone to listen, and a sympathetic shoulder to cry on.
Besides, I know she'll be absolutely dying to know about Brett.

Jane kindly offers to let me use the phone in her and dads bedroom, so I can rant and rave in private.
I've managed to hold everything in mostly, until I hear Rae's familiar voice at the end of the line, and it all comes spilling out.

Rachel manages to keep silent, listening patiently, only gasping in indignation at regular intervals as I relay the account of my mum's evil deed, the conversation we've had, and how she's promised to make an effort with accepting Brett.
Which of course then leads onto me having to reveal that Brett and I, are now very much back together.

At first I had intended to be economical with the truth and not go into too much detail....but Rae's uncontainable excitement is contagious, and she ends up yelling into my ear, almost deafening me, "Three times! Three times in one afternoon? Oh. My. God!"

I don't think she's ever going to let that drop.

It seems I spend the entirety of the phone call crying, laughing, hiccuping or blowing my nose. All it takes to get my tear ducts going is either talking about the frustration I feel about the letters being withheld, or the overwhelming elation I feel due to being reunited with Brett.

As expected, Rae is absolutely elated for me and can't resist reminding me that she always knew that Brett and I were made for each other.
Unlike Becks, she remarks, who has on more than one occasion encouraged me to move on and forget about him by proclaiming "The only way to get over someone is to get under someone else" and "You have to get back up on the horse when it's thrown you to the ground, even when you feel like you've broken every bone in your body."

Gotta love my friends.

I go on to hastily fill Rae in on the torrid encounter with Anick and the way she mistreats Brett, and I can practically envisage Rae shaking her head in disbelief as she says, "What a bitch! Brett is so much better off with you. Lucky for him you came back when you did, she sounds like a total fucking nightmare!"
She paused for breath, then sniggered triumphantly "Three times....ha! I think that's poetic justice for her being a cheating, abusive cow!"

Yep, just as I thought.
She'll never let that drop.

So, speaking to Rae has helped me feel much better, and after we've said our goodbyes I begin getting ready for the big date.

****************

I glance at the clock on the kitchen wall, feeling my stomach twist violently with nervous anxiety.
It's almost eight, and there's still no sign of Brett.

"Why don't you just come and sit down? I'm sure he's on his way. He's probably just been delayed." Jane calls out to me from the living room

But I can't.
I've resorted to pacing around the kitchen aimlessly. My socked-feet sliding on the cool, smooth, tiled floor whilst drawing in deep, calming breaths. Not knowing what I am doing or where I'm going, but I'm unable to keep still.

I need Brett and his calming influence after all the turbulence of this afternoon, but he's not here. And I'm left not knowing what to think.
There's so many thoughts whizzing through my head. Terrible, unspeakable thoughts such as what if Anick has hurt him? Or what if she's guilted him into not breaking up with her?

Oh God no, please don't let that be the case.

I try to shake off the restless, nervous energy and upset that clings to me like an invisible widows veil.
If Brett has succumbed to feeling pity for Anick, then I may as well go and throw myself off Tower Bridge right now.
Not that I would, of course.
I've never been a very strong swimmer.

But if he's having second thoughts, then the rest of my world will crash and burn around me.
It's hard to believe that earlier in the day I felt weightless, blissfully happy and unaware as I floated away on cloud number 9. Now it seems I've acquired my own personal thundercloud, and I can just envisage it following me around, complete with occasional angry bolts of lighting raining down on my head.

I'm just toying with the idea of calling his house again, even though I tried fifteen minutes ago and got no response, when suddenly Jane calls out to me again.

"Sam...."

"I'm not sitting down, Jane. I'll only crease my top anyway-"

"Sam, I think he's here!"

"He is?" I rush from the kitchen to find both Jane and my dad out on the tiny balcony that overlooks the small courtyard outside.

"Crikey, what is that soppy young sod up to?" My dad muses aloud, and I practically elbow him out of the way in order to see for myself.

I gaze down and can't quite make sense of what I am seeing.
Well I'm seeing, but still working on believing, as the three of us watch Brett hauling a motorbike up onto its kickstand. This doesn't go according to plan and takes more than one attempt, resulting in Brett vocalising a string of very ungentlemanly expletives under his breath.

Jane clasps a hand to her mouth to suppress a giggle, and I just stand and stare in utter disbelief.
My dad on the other hand, takes pity on him, being as he's blissfully unaware to the spectators watching his struggle.

"Oi, Romeo....what the heck is this all about?" He calls down to him, making him visibly jump in surprise.

He stares up at us, looking comically startled by our presence. "Oh, erm, What'cha Alan. Good to see you...sorry, this was....well it was supposed to be a bit of a surprise for...for Juliet there." He indicates towards me, and my dad actually laughs raucously then.

Jane waves, as if she's the one Brett is referring to, and something tells me she quite fancies the idea of playing Juliet to his Romeo.
He smiles nervously, and waves back. "Hello Jane, nice to see you again."

"Always a pleasure seeing you, sweetie." She coos, batting her eyelashes at him furiously. "My, you're looking mighty fine!"

He shifts awkwardly from one heavily-booted foot to the other, and dips his head bashfully. "Um, thanks. Thank you."

"D'you need a hand, fella?" My dad calls down, before Jane can harass him further.

Even from where I'm standing two floors above, I hear him sigh with relief. "Only if it's not too much trouble, Alan. I think the engine has seized up. It conked out on me at Belsize Park....I've had to push the bloody thing all the way up Haverstock Hill."

My dad hums sympathetically, before making his way back inside to fetch his extensive set of tools, the likes of which he keeps solely for moments such as this.
Ask him to put up a shelf or fix a door hinge and he openly blanches at the mere suggestion.

Jane catches my eye and graciously retreats back inside also, affording Brett and I a moment of privacy.
Realising I have less than a minute before my dad reaches the courtyard, I lean over the little wrought-iron balcony and hiss at him, "What are you playing at, Wolfie? I was worried sick about you. I was starting to think all sorts of weird shit....but this...well, you've definitely managed to surprise me. I'll give you that."

He makes a pained expression, his soft blue eyes staring up at me all apologetically. "I really am sorry, sweet. I didn't mean to worry you. It was meant to be a cool surprise. Obviously I didn't expect it to go tits-up in such a spectacular way."

"Who's is the bike?" I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.

"Mine. It was a last minute impulse buy. A mate of mine was flogging it, and I just thought it would make the night memorable." He shrugs and pulls another face. "It's definitely done that. But not in the way I'd intended. Now I've ruined things-"

"Wait! What? You mean you bought that bike....just to take me out on, tonight?" I blink.

He nods reluctantly, looking deflated. "It seemed like a good idea at the time. Don't ask me why. I s'pose I just wanted to make some special memories before you have to go back home. I didn't even stop to consider what you'd be wearing. I'm such an arse. It's not even practical.....wait, Sammy?"

I hear him call after me but I don't stop. I fly through the living room at break-ankle speed, almost colliding with poor Jane in the process. I gabble a hasty apology, fling open the front door and take the stairs two at a time. Even then my legs don't seem to move as fast as I want them to, my upper body is way in front and I'm at risk of toppling headlong down the stairs.

My dad is outside now, rummaging in a tool bag and yammering on about broken piston rings and crankshafts. I barge passed him, and quite unceremoniously launch myself at an unsuspecting Brett, almost knocking him straight off his feet.

"Bloody hell, steady on girl!" He chuckles, his large hands taking a firm hold of my waist to steady us. He sways slightly but manages to regain his footing, and I notice I've knocked the wind out of him by my overzealous greeting.
"Be careful, I don't want to get engine oil on you."

Like I'd care. He could pour a full tank of it over my head and I still couldn't be mad at him.

"Sorry, I was just....I mean I'm just.." Words fail me as I gaze up at his handsome visage. His sapphire blue eyes stare back at me in bewilderment from beneath his dark, arched brows. He has smudges of oil on his face, even on the tip of his nose, and he looks obscenely adorable.

"Is everything alright, sweet?" He's looking at me all worriedly, as I cling on to his sturdy shoulders like I'll never let go. I don't want to let go.

"Yes....well, no. I mean, it wasn't...I've had a bit of a crappy afternoon to be honest. But now you're here and....oh God, you don't have to be sorry Brett. You're just amazing. This..." I reluctantly relinquish the hold I have on him and gesture towards the broken motorcycle. "...this is such a cool idea. I can't believe you'd go to so much trouble. That's what I love about you. You're so sweet."

It's then I hear my dad cough awkwardly, as if feeling the need to alert us to the fact that he's still in the vicinity, and I know I must be making him feel undoubtedly awkward, gushing over Brett in such a way.

A visible flush dots Brett's cheekbones, turning his pallor uncharacteristically dusky. He's embarrassed also, and it's too damn cute.

"Well, I've still made a fine mess of things." He clears his throat. "I didn't even have time to go home and change, I didn't want you worrying so I came straight here. And I'd booked us a table at a restaurant as well, but that's all gone out the window."

"Not necessarily." My dad chimes in. He stands and pulls out the keys to his practically brand new, precious Triumph Tiger and throws them towards Brett, who stealthily catches them in one hand. "You can take my bike. But make sure you ride careful, d'you hear? I'm trusting you with my little girl's safety....not to mention that bike is my baby."

Brett stares at the keys, stunned. "You'd let me, borrow your bike? Are you sure?"

My dad waves at him dismissively, as if it's suddenly no big deal at all. When it actually really is. Sometimes it seems he loves that bike more than Jane. "Don't make a fuss. Just get on your way. Go and enjoy yourselves, you deserve it."

I smile warmly at my dad and feel my heart suddenly expand in my chest. His kind gesture of good faith is deeply touching, and I can't refrain from giving him a big, bear hug, which he gratefully accepts.

But it would seem Brett still needs some convincing. "Look at the state of me, though! I can't take you out like this, Sammy. I won't get in a restaurant dressed like this, and besides I wouldn't wanna show you up."

I cast an appreciative glance over his light denim jeans which are fashionably ripped at the knee, his stonking great 18-hole Oxblood Doc Marten boots, leather jacket and white T.shirt that's visibly stained now with oil.

He's right, he probably won't be allowed into some fancy west end restaurant, but he could never show me up.
On the contrary, I wish the entire world could see me with him like this. In all his dishevelled glory.
He's still so strikingly beautiful, and the slightly unkempt look only adds an air of danger and ruggedness to his already potent charisma and sizzling sex appeal.

"I'm not bothered about posh meals, I don't need that with you, Brett." I try to assure him.

He groans and doesn't look convinced. "Sammy, I wanted this night to be special. I could quickly nip home and get washed and changed then-"

"No. Tonight will be special. It already is. And I want you just the way you are.....which is perfect, to me."

*******************

After a hurried wash in our bathroom sink, and throwing on one of my dads badly fitting T.shirts, Brett feels reasonably comfortable enough to head out for our date.
I can tell he's still far from happy, as it's not what he had been hoping for, and he's burdened with guilt when my dad waves off his suggestion at leaving his broken Yamaha Tomcat for mechanics to fix.
What he doesn't realise is, my dad is in his element, and will now thoroughly enjoy his Saturday evening.

But once we've pulled on our respective helmets, and I'm gripping Brett's waist tightly as we speed off, he starts to relax and enjoy himself.

I've ridden pillion on a motorbike before with my dad, many times. Traveling anywhere by motorcycle can be quite a liberating experience at the best of times, unlike the rather mundane affair of driving in typical enclosed automobile. Everything that is felt is enhanced. The sense of smells, sights, and feelings are stimulated to such an extreme that even the familiar seems gloriously strange.
And with Brett, everything is enhanced tenfold.

There is nothing that can compare to this.

As we whizz along Kentish Town Road, passed the bustling humdrum of Leicester Square, I feel a sense of inner-peace like I've never known before. It's exciting, thrilling, exhilarating and yet calmingly comforting at the same time, as my inner thighs hug his outer ones snugly.
The night air, though not exactly fresh,  is free to be greedily absorbed, and is thick and has a consistency of its own. The urban scenery of the city becomes part of us and we become part of the scenery, which creates an overwhelming sense of freedom, as if we have a limitless vision of the world that surrounds us.

By the time we reach the Southbank, I'm pretty hot and sweaty due to the summer heat, and the humidity and helmet have done terrible things to my hair, but I honestly couldn't care less.
At the risk of sounding painfully cheesy - this night is nothing short of magical.
The only dampner is when Brett removes his crash helmet, and I notice for the first time now that he's washed away the smears of oil, that he's got a small but visible cut under his left eye and the area beneath it on his cheekbone looks bluey-purple in a certain light.

"What the hell happened, Brett?" I demand, stopping to examine his injury more closely as we're walking arm-in-arm along the embankment.
As if I even need to ask. I already know who's responsible, and it makes me furious all over again.

"Please Sammy, don't make a fuss over it....her ring caught me and caused the cut, so it looks worse than it actually is." He explains, shooting me anxious glances as I carefully cup his face in my hand and tilt it from side to side, like I'm examining the damage done to a priceless piece of art.

"She shouldn't have hit you. It's well out of order. I don't care how hurt or angry she is, she shouldn't have done that!"

"Well, it's all over and done with now. I never have to see her again." His expressive face displays the shaming combination of guilt and relief he's evidently feeling, and he confirms this by going on to declare how he never wants to be responsible for making a woman cry ever again.

Though I expect that's impossible. Any female fan who's worth her salt has more than likely been moved to tears by the beautiful lyrics he writes, not to mention his deliverance of them with that God-given voice of his.

"Still. I'd love to get my hands on her." I grumble on unapologetically. "I don't care how feisty she is, I'd take great pleasure in giving her a good slap!"

He shakes his head but smiles. "Violence doesn't solve anything in the long run."

I narrow my eyes at him. "You didn't seem to think so when you took Mark on, remember? And I'm sure you and Damon would've come to blows that time if Jarvis hadn't stepped in and saved the day."

"Well, yeah....that's true." He admits awkwardly. "But I'm not proud of losing it with Damon. Though I do have a confession, we did come to blows after I got back from Manchester."

My eyes widen in shock. "Because of me?"

My hand finally lets go of his chin, allowing him to nod. "Well, you know what he was like. He got right up in my face, banging on about how I'd 'stolen' you from him....As you can imagine it soon escalated and we got into a bit of a scrap." He forces a nervous laugh. "It's almost funny now looking back, we were both walking around with a shiner afterwards. It's like we had a matching black eye each."

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry, Brett. I really should have ended it with him properly before we went away. I caused so much trouble without meaning to."

He shrugs nonchalantly, and we set off walking again. "Don't be. Are you ever going to stop apologising for things that aren't your fault? There's no need to be sorry, you can't control other people's behaviour. Only your own response to it."

This seems like a good opener to lead onto the topic of my mum, and the subject of the letters she withheld. Though I'm not entirely certain this is a conversation I'm ready to have, but I want to be honest with Brett and open from now on about everything.

I steer him in the direction of the bridge so we can talk properly, and we both lean on the wall looking out across the murky river. Then I take a deep breath, and break the news to him as gently as possible.
He can be a sensitive guy, and I know he'll take this blow personally. So all I can do is reassure him as much as I can that it is not his fault, and hopefully he'll be able to forgive her interference.

By the time I've finished, his head is resting against his hand, and he's peering down into the depths of the Thames, a sad, almost melancholic expression on his face. He's eerily silent, and it's unsettling.

"Say something, please." I urge, not being able to stand the excruciating silence any longer. "Can you forgive her for what she did? I swear to you, no one will ever come between us again."

Brett raises sorrowful eyes to mine. "If you can forgive her, then it would be churlish of me not to." He tries to say this with icy dignity, but it comes out a bit choked. "She's your mum at the end of the day, so if she thought she was looking out for you, I get that. You know what Blandine is like with me."

I nod, slipping an arm around his waist and pulling him into a hug. "She's promised to give you a chance. If she can't just be happy for me, then I won't be able to forgive her."

"Sammy, the last thing I'd ever want to do is come between you and your mum-"

"I've just said, nothing and no one is going to come between us Brett. You're the most important person to me, you're my world. And I won't let my mum, distance, fame, or any bloody exes get in the way. Never again. Not a chance."

He laughs then, and it's as if his worries are perceptibly lifted from his shoulders. His face visibly brightens, and his tall frame straightens, no longer slumping sadly. "Well, as long as you're sure I'm worth the trouble."

"Oh you definitely are, Wolfie."

He smiles one of his legendary, heart-stopping smiles, which shows in his eyes, and it knocks the air right out of my lungs. Then he leans down slowly and kisses me fully on the lips.
The kiss is soul-deep, causing butterflies to swirl pleasantly in my stomach, and waves of attraction pulsate through my body like a tidal wave - defeating in it's intensity.

"Come on then sweet, let's go and have some fun." He grins foxily, as I try to regain my breath.

So we do.

We have the best time.

First we stumble upon a quaint little American style diner that's informal so we don't get turned away for not being dressed appropriately. And I'm thankful that we haven't ended up in some swanky, overpriced restaurant.
The place is retro, with a 50's theme, and we order veggie burgers and fries whilst playing 'name that tune' to the old-skool Rock n Roll that's playing on the jukebox.
We kiss, we laugh, we sing, and even do the twist whilst waiting for desert, thanks to the conveniently small dance-floor thats thoughtfully been provided for customers like ourselves who succumb to the heady mix of being loved-up, alcohol and Motown.

Then afterwards we walk along the river hand-in-hand, and even end up taking a ride on the old fashioned carousel just for the fun of it.

"I love you, Sammy Lewis." Brett calls out from behind me. "Be with me forever and ever!"
The wind is tearing at his words, as the carousel seems to go unreasonably fast and my horse and his are rising at wildly different intervals, but I twist around so I can see him better.

"Oh I think I can manage that. You'll never get rid of me now. I love you so much, Mister Anderson!" I yell back at him.

"Good to know. Because you're stuck with me now, I'm never going to let you go!"

I'm laughing now, and giddy with emotion and excitement. "This will be something to tell the grandkids about then?" I half-joke, but his response makes me almost lose my grip on the pole.

"Definitely. We can bore them with it at our Ruby wedding anniversary dinner!"

I think I must've misheard him, so I have to double check. "Bore them at our what?"

"Ruby wedding dinner!"

There it is again, and when he repeats it a third time just to make sure I've heard correctly, I swear my heart explodes with joy. I lean back on my horse and whoop with delight, almost toppling over backwards in the process.

I just know that I'm going to love this man forever, and that together we will learn to just simply 'be'
Everything is going to work out fine.
Because in this moment the world stops. It stops, and all that exists for me is him.
There's nothing else. No noise, no other people, no thoughts or worries. No yesterday, and no tomorrow. Only here and now
The world has stopped, and it is a truly beautiful place....

.....and there is only me and him.

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