Epilogue
Abby stepped out the front door onto the wraparound porch of Gwynne’s cozy, hundred-year-old beach cottage—their beach cottage—and discovered a jumping cardboard box with air holes punched in the top. Gwynne had warned her this would happen—that bunnies had a way of appearing at her doorstep. She hadn’t told her about their evasive maneuvers, though. She scooped up the panicked box and brought it inside before it could hurt itself.
“Gwynne!” she called into the house, setting the box on the entryway’s slate floor and carefully opening the flaps.
Gwynne padded in from the bedroom. When she saw what Abby was doing, she ran the last few steps.
Abby lifted the black-and-white rabbit out of the box. “I’ve never seen one with Dalmatian spots,” she said, depositing the overweight bundle of fur into Gwynne’s arms. “And black ears. So cute.”
Gwynne cuddled the rabbit close to her chest and did her rabbit whisperer thing, petting and crooning and calming the animal down. Abby felt a little rabbit-whispered herself, watching Gwynne glow with love for the abandoned creature, making it feel safe.
“Where did you come from?” Gwynne asked softly. With the rabbit settled in the crook of her arm, she checked out the empty box. “Looks like there was a note in here, but our busy guy ripped it to shreds.”
“Oh!” Abby said, realizing he could have been trapped all night on their porch without food. “He must be hungry.”
She ran to the fridge and pulled out a handful of carrot tops and lettuce and met Gwynne in the backyard where they had a rabbit pen. She placed the greens on the ground, careful not to startle their guest. The rabbit eyed his new family suspiciously from the farthest corner of the pen, but it didn’t take him long to dart out to snatch some leafy goodness and retreat to his corner with it.
“This is so exciting,” Abby said. “If he’s a boy, let’s name him Peter the Sixteenth.”
“I like it.” Gwynne stood behind her and wrapped her arms around her waist. “You’re not going to ask what I need another bunny for?”
“What?”
“You’re not going to say Not another one? Again?”
The small hitch in Gwynne’s voice was painful to hear. She squeezed Gwynne’s arms and a fierce protectiveness swept through her, making her sway.
“I love that you want to help them. You love them. And they need you.”
She leaned back, cradled in the circle of Gwynne’s arms. This was where she belonged—in the embrace of this beautiful being who had a caring heart worthy of both a woman and an angel. She didn’t have to join the angels in the Angelic Realm to find home—she already had a place where she belonged, right here on earth.
Gwynne rubbed her hands around Abby’s waist, over her hip bones, up her ribcage. “I can’t believe you weren’t mad when Nimbus chewed a hole in your blouse—the blouse I wasn’t supposed to be wearing because you told me you didn’t want to get rabbit hair on it.”
Oh, Gwynne. If Gwynne had any sense of self-preservation she wouldn’t remind her that Nimbus had landed himself firmly in the doghouse with that stunt, and yet she couldn’t find it within herself to stay mad at either of them.
“I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Gwynne’s hands moved lower.
“It was just the hem. The patch won’t even show.”
“I love you.” Gwynne nuzzled the back of her neck with an appreciative purr. “You know you’re never going to get rid of me now that I can follow you to the Angelic Realm.”
Abby turned in her arms to look at her. “I can’t imagine anything I’d enjoy more.”
Gwynne smiled seductively. “I can.” Surviving near-death had made her insatiable.
“It’s the middle of the day, Gwynnosaurus.”
“So?”
“So, we both have to go to work.”
Gwynne had an evening shift at Sea Salt and Abby had an afternoon wedding to play, and afterward she’d stop by the spa and Gwynne would take a break from healing everyone who asked and she’d rub the soreness out of Abby’s shoulders. They’d go home together and they’d check on Peter the Sixteenth and Gwynne would chase the other rabbits away from the harps and Abby would practice her rapidly improving bra-unhooking skills and they’d go to bed in their huge bed that was twice the size of her old one and still end up on top of each other.
“We don’t have to leave for work just yet,” Gwynne argued.
Abby gave her a quick kiss. “I’m playing a wedding. I can’t be late.”
“Speaking of…” Gwynne said a little too casually. “Do you have any musician friends who play weddings?”
“Why?” Was Gwynne seriously going to…
“Because if I asked you to marry me, and if you made me the happiest girl in the world and said yes, we’d need to find someone who’s not you to do the music.”
That was so Gwynne. Charming and wonderful. She wiped a tear from her eye. “That is so corny.”
“I know. Will you marry me?”
“Only if I get to pick the music.”
“I wouldn’t dare have it any other way.”
Abby laughed, because who was she kidding? She’d be willing to marry her to Pachelbel’s Canon and the Wedding March and “Another One Bites the Dust” and anything else Gwynne came up with, and she’d be too excited to hear any of it.
“The bunnies can be ring bearers.” That seemed like the sort of thing Gwynne would want. If she could train them to do magic shows, she could maybe train them to hop down the aisle, right? Or they’d find bridesmaids willing to hold the furry guys. Not that they needed to do an aisle or bridesmaids or any of it to feel married. Their real marriage had already happened, on the angels’ bridge, when their souls were irrevocably seared together in the glow of the angelic link. But if Gwynne wanted a ceremony…
Gwynne gave her a fierce hug, trembling all over, burying her face in her hair.
Abby rubbed between her shoulder blades and pulled her close. “I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you too.”
“Do you like my plan?”
“Have I told you how much I love you?” Gwynne threaded her fingers through Abby’s hair with an intimacy that made Abby want to come up with more wedding plans she would like.
“You really think including the bunnies in the ceremony would work?”
“I think it’ll be chaos, but who cares? Although I have to say, if the boys are going to dress up, they’d rather be flower girls so they can go in drag.”
Gwynne wanted them to wear clothes? Well, okay, she could sew them little outfits. She loved costumes, and a skirt should be easy enough to put on a rabbit—easier than pants, anyway. Would sequins work? Or would they chew those off and make themselves sick? Maybe lace skirts with matching pointy princess hats. That would look nice—if lace could be made of rabbit-proof, indestructible material. Because as far as she could tell, those handfuls of cuddle-bun cuteness were willing to gnaw on just about anything. Including the flower girl baskets.
Which gave her an idea. “They can eat the rose petals on their way down the aisle. They’ll like that.”
Gwynne beamed. “They will! I can’t wait.”
Gwynne’s kiss convinced her she had more time before she needed to leave for work than she’d thought.
Forever was going to feel wonderful.
Bella Books, Inc.
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Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
About the Author
Other Bella Books by Siri Caldwell
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapt
er Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Epilogue
Bella Books
Earth Angel Page 25
