This Is Stella's Reality

August 9, 2015

My feet skipped along the boardwalk. The summer sun was setting, and my boys were dragging me along the pier. Children played darts and strength tests, boyfriends won stuffed animals for their girls, and vendors shouted at us as we passed by. I grinned, remembering how much I loved Coney Island.

It had been a year since Bucky first brought me here. I remembered the smell of the salty water. The bright neon lights. His smile and childish glee.

Steve hadn't joined us then, but he was here now. Grinning wildly as he stuffed cotton candy in his mouth and dragged me along.

We had been here all afternoon, giggling and enjoying each other's company before I charmed the cottage and opened the door to a Parisian flat. We'd have three homes now. The compound, the island, and Paris.

I smiled to myself and jogged to keep up with my husbands as we made it to the ferris wheel. It was crowded, but eventually, we squeezed into our seats and waited for the wheel to bring us up.

Bucky's fingers lifted my chin, and he kissed my cheek. His face was warm with excitement. "Do you remember the first time we were here?" He asked.

"Of course," I chastised. "How could I forget how nervous and cute you were."

In the twilight, I watched as his cheeks turned rose red. "I was not nervous," he sputtered. "I just didn't know if you liked me back or not." He sulked like a child, bottom lip pouting and eyes adamantly staring off into the horizon.

"Sure," Steve teased. "Is that why the next day you came barging into my room, practically shaking and asking if it was possible to fall in love so fast?"

"I said no such thing," Bucky protested.

My stomach hurt from laughing so hard. I wiped some tears from my eyes and leaned on Bucky's shoulder, looking up at him sweetly. "You thought you loved me after fucking once?"

Impossibly, his face grew brighter pink. He mumbled something I couldn't catch, so I combed my fingers through his beard. "What was that, doll?" I asked him.

He scowled. "Yeah, and what about it?" He asked.

"Nothing," I said simply. "It's not as bad as me. I thought I loved you the night we went to that bar before my birthday party."

Bucky laughed then, "Two weeks after we met?"

"Oh, shut it, Buck," Steve said with a roll of his eyes. The wheel brought us almost halfway to the summit. The stars began dotting the grey and purple sky. It would be nightfall soon. "You flirted with her the day you two met."

"Can you blame me?" Bucky asked. "An angel offered me her hand that day. Of course, I was going to flirt with her."

His words from that very first day rang in my ears. Memories flooded through me as the sky faded to black, and the stars twinkled brilliantly against their backdrop.

The way his hair fell into his face. The gentle grasp on my hand. Doll. I was in deep already.

I smiled fondly. Those memories held a special place in my heart. The first few inklings of our future together. Sweet smiles and stolen moments. Knowing looks across the room and secrets kept behind closed doors.

Bucky was my first love. The time we spent together would always be cherished close to my soul. For, as the poets say, the moon and stars may never be far apart.

"But what about you, Steve?" I asked with a hint of mischief in my voice. "Bucky never told me much about the two of you talking about me before that night of paintball."