(Ivann's POV)
As I walked down the row of stones, all the memories I shared with Paul flooded my head - the first time we met, the first time we kissed, the first date we went on, the first long night we spent just talking and the first time we explored one another's bodies. All the smiles and laughs we shared and the tears we shared, as well. All the happy memories and the sad memories filled my brain and made my heart ache. I had thought of him as a monster for so long that I almost forgotten about those times.
His grave was still a rectangle of dirt, yet to be overgrown with grass, with a small headstone with his name and the year of his birth and the year of his death. I walked around the edges of the bare dirt and knelt down beside his tombstone. Slowly, I reached out with a shaking hand and traced the letters of his name. The last time I ever spoke to him came to my mind, and that's when the tears spilled from my eyes.
"You probably wanted to tell me all those things you told me in my dream and I didn't care enough to listen," I said, talking to his gravestone like he was there listening to me. "I was just so scared and the pain from that night was still so fresh," I told him. "I should have let you speak. Maybe then you'd still be alive. I'm sorry. I know it's a little late now, but can you forgive me?" A gentle breeze blew through the graveyard and ruffled my fur and I felt like it was him answering my question. "I forgive you too," I said, quietly, into the wind.
I stayed there for a while longer, remembering fond old memories of the two of us. "Do you remember that time we tried camping? Fishing, those disgusting wiggly worms and, not to mention, the slimy fish - yuck," I said, with a shudder. "It took us hours to get a fire going, and then it started raining and put it out." I laughed, lightly. "We ran the batteries in the flashlights dead that night, because we left them on, as we cuddled up in your sleeping bag, both of us agreeing that camping was the worst thing ever thought of. That's one of my favorite memories of us," I admitted with a smile.
"Where did we go so wrong?" I asked as I touched his headstone. "I guess you were right, I was the one for you, but you weren't the one for me, Sean is..." As the words left my mouth I thought, Sean! I should get back to him. "I should get going. This was... awkward, to be honest, but nice. I only wish we could have done it sooner. Bye, Paul," I said as I laid the roses at the base of his tombstone, and then got up and walked away.
When I found Sean, he was looking over a large tomb. "When I die, I don't want something like this," he said as he noticed me walking up to him. "I mean, it's nice and all, but I think I'd rather have something small, like that stone," he told me as he pointed out a small headstone to his right.
"Hopefully, we won't be picking out tombstones for many, many years," I said as I slipped my arm around his and leaned up against him with a soft sigh.
"Hopefully," he echoed, quietly. "How are you?" he asked after a moment of silence.
"I'm okay."
His hand found mine as we walked back to his truck. "How about we go get something to eat?"
"That sounds nice."
He opened the passenger door and waited behind me while I climbed in. "Anywhere in particular that you want to go to?"
"Yeah, I have somewhere in mind," I answered as I buckled the seatbelt around me, and then looked at him with a smile.
"Hey! It's been a while," Rachel greeted us as we walked into the restaurant.
"I know," I said as she wrapped me in a light hug.
She pulled away to look me over. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm doing better."
Sean cleared his throat. "Rachel, we are not here as friends. We are patrons."
"Oh! Right, let me take you to your table," she said as she scrambled to grab some menus and lead us through the other dining customers. "Here we are." She plucked a reservation sign off the table and put it on a different table.
"Rachel?" Sean gasped.
"What? They'll never know," she defended. He chuckled and shook his head at her, and we took our seats. "So, what'll it be?" she asked, after giving us a minute to look over the menu.
"Chef's choice, please," I said as I folded the menu and handed it back to her.
"I'll have that too," Sean told her and handed her his menu.
She scribbled our orders down, and then said, "Coming right up," with a wink, as she spun around and walked away.
Our food was in front of us, in a timely manner, and it wasn't anything on the usual menu. Sean's, by the smell of it, was something spicy and mine was some sort of Alfredo, with a rich, creamy sauce.
Rachel came back to our table, pushing a small cart with two wine glasses and a bottle of wine, chilling in a bucket of ice. "It's on the house," she said as she sat the glasses on the table, and then lifted the bottle out of the bucket.
Sean looked across the table at me and raised an eyebrow. I just stared back at him. "It'd be rude to refuse," he said with a smile.
"One glass," I told him, firmly.
"Great!" Rachel chirped, and then popped the cork and poured some of the deep red wine into the glasses.
"That's enough for me," I said when my glass was about half as full as Sean's.
"Are you sure?" she asked as she tilted the bottled back and looked at me questionably.
"Yes, I'm sure," I told her, with a small nod.
"Okay. It's here if you change your mind," she said, sitting the bottle back in the bucket of ice, and then walking away.
Sean waited until I picked up my glass and took a small sip before he lifted his to his muzzle and took a sip himself. His eyes stayed locked with mine as we both sat our glasses down.
"What?" I asked, with a flick of my ear.
The tip of his tongue poked out and traced his upper lip as he licked away some of the wine in his fur. He didn't answer me, but by the look in his eyes, I knew what he was thinking. I have to admit; I have been kind of thinking about it too. It has been a while since we've been intimate with one another. Maybe tonight's the night that we break that streak?
"Maybe," I told him, and then put a bite of my pasta in my mouth. His grin about doubled as he let out a slow breath. "Maybe," I repeated, after washing down my mouthful with another sip of my wine. "Fine, but I'm just going to lay there. I'm still sore," I growled, quietly, as I tried to hide the smile on my muzzle.
