Felix held Regan’s hand in his as they strolled down the street. The heat of the day was fading and he was wonderfully content, satisfied physically from making love to Regan, and satisfied emotionally for the first time in a lifetime, both with himself and their relationship.
“Are you okay? Should I slow down?” she asked anxiously.He laughed. “I’m mortal, not an infant. I’m fine. It barely hurts at all.” His back still twinged and ached with most movements, and he would always have scars on his wrists and his back, but it mattered little to him. Not when he had been given the opportunity for a whole new life, one rich in love, friends, and hopefully someday, children.
“It’s a beautiful day,” he told her. “A good day to ask you to marry me.”
Regan stopped walking altogether and stared up at him. “Are you serious? Are you actually asking me?”
“Yes. I love you. Be my wife.” Maybe not the most romantic proposal in the world, but Felix figured it was to the point.
A smile split her face. “Yes. I will marry you.” She threw her arms around him and kissed him, then pulled back quickly. “Sorry, sorry. Did I hurt you?”
“No. You could never hurt me.” Felix kissed her back then raised his hand in greeting over her head. “Chris and Nelson are here. They’re actually on time for dinner, it’s amazing.”
Regan whirled around and yelled, “We’re getting married!”
“Shut up!” Chris said. “I totally saw this coming.”
“Congratulations,” Nelson said.
“Thanks.” Felix shook hands and Regan received hugs.
“I’m starving,” Chris said after all the greeting and hugging had subsided. “And I need a cocktail to celebrate. Where are we eating?”
“Nola,” Nelson demanded. “I have a thing for Emeril.”
No one objected, so they started walking. The path took them past the house on Royal Street, and Felix squeezed Regan’s hand.
Regan squeezed back, staring up at the house she had fallen in love with, the one she had just listed for sale. It wasn’t hers, it never had been, and the ghosts of the past would always linger. It was time for the house to have a new history, and for her and Felix to build a life together in the tiny colorful turquoise house on St. Ann.
A guide had a group of tourists paused in front of the house, all wearing their tour stickers on their T-shirts. Chris and Nelson wandered ahead, arguing over various celebrity chefs’ sexual orientations, but Regan stopped and listened to the guide.
“One of the most imposing and beautiful houses in the French Quarter, this residence has been the scene of many a tragedy and is haunted by more than one ghost. The original owner died in the yellow fever epidemic of 1878, along with his wife and four of his daughters. His youngest daughter survived, only to commit suicide by throwing herself off the balcony a few months later. Her ghost is often seen on the balcony, hair flowing behind her. The cries of her family suffering from yellow fever are often heard late at night.”
Regan really doubted that, since she had never heard one word from the Comeaux family, but it made a good story.
The guide continued. “A later owner also committed suicide here, and just a few weeks ago the house was the scene of tragedy and drama yet again. The current resident came down into the very same courtyard you see before you where that young woman died so long ago, to find that her boyfriend had been stabbed by her ex-husband. While she called 911, the ex ran off, and now a couple of weeks later, he’s still missing and wanted by the police. Prominent local lawyer and everything. Big scandal.”
“Did the boyfriend die?” a teenage girl asked.
“No, he survived, but I’m guessing that relationship is on the rocks.” The man winked. “Love hurts, doesn’t it?”
Felix scoffed beside her and Regan gave a short laugh. The guide noticed them. “Listen, y’all, if you want to hear the story, you’re going to have to pay for the tour.”
Regan shook her head and smiled. “No, thanks. I already know this story.”
As they moved down the sidewalk, leaving the past behind, Felix pulled her hand up to his mouth and kissed it. “And it has a happy ending.”