Happily Ever Afterlife

Happily Ever Afterlife

(A Paranormal Romantic Ghost Tale)

By Nikki Hoff

Copyright 2014 A Silver Moon Romance. All Rights Reserved

Get updates on all of the latest from Nikki Hoff

by visiting www.pyramidmoon.com

Afterlife Affair

Perched atop a fluffy cloud, Tessa flapped her wings wildly, her belly and thighs jiggling with the effort, but she was no closer to flying than the old sows on her daddy’s hog farm. She stomped her foot in frustration. What was the point of having wings if they were nothing more than decoration?

Her heart felt as heavy as it did the day she arrived in...well, she wasn’t sure where she was. It wasn’t Hell, but it certainly wasn’t Heaven, either. Surely, in Heaven she would have more than a measly pair of flip-flops.

She bent forward to eye her uncovered, pudgy toes, still painted the seafoam green she’d painted them her last day as a living, breathing person. If she’d known it was the last color her toes would ever see, she’d have chosen better – cherry red, passion pink – anything but seafoam.

“Purgatory,” a chipper voice said from behind her.

Tessa spun around to find the voice’s owner, but she was alone. “Excuse me?” Had she imagined it? Answered her own question, perhaps? In a grating, high-pitched, yet masculine voice? Not likely. For days on this stupid cloud, she’d seen no one and the only voice in her head was her own.

“Actually, it’s been closer to a year,” that damn voice said again.

She turned a full circle, certain the sound came from a different direction this time. “Up here.” She craned her neck to look upwards.

“Boo!”

She shrieked and nearly jumped out of her skin at the hot burst of air at her feet. Her first instinct was to kick the blond, curly haired head sticking up through the cloud, but the flash of seafoam reminded her just in time that kicking something hard while wearing flip-flops was probably unwise. No matter – before her foot even twitched, the head disappeared and popped up just behind her, now attached to a tall, but scrawny male body. He appeared to be close to her age, give or take a year. Maybe late twenties or thirtyish. White skinny jeans hugged his slim legs and his shirt boldly asked, Got Pride?

When she turned to face the man, he raised his hand to rest below his chin as he eyed her from head to toe. “Hmm, nope, those wings will never support you. Even if you flap until you’re blue in the face.”

Tessa felt the first emotions outside of sadness she’d had since she arrived. Anger. Humiliation. “Is that supposed to be a fat joke?”

The man tapped his long nose with an equally long finger. “No, it’s supposed to be an are-you-freakin’-kidding-me joke. They’re for show only, Princess. You wouldn’t even have them if you hadn’t had a hissy fit at check-in. Pete doesn’t have much patience for hysterical women, so the wings were to shut you up and move you along.”

Check in? She didn’t remember checking in anywhere. And who was Pete? “Pete? You mean St. Peter?”

Rolling his eyes, the man said, “Don’t ever call him that. He hates it. Pete’s a dedicated atheist, so he gets pretty pissy if you imply he’s a saint.”

“St. Peter’s an atheist?” Tessa cocked her head to the side. Somehow, that seemed unlikely.

“Oh my God, he’s not St. Peter, he’s just Pete! The guy who works the check-in.” The man shook his head and turned away, mumbling something under his breath. All Tessa could make out was
thick
and
woman
.

Tessa was becoming pretty frustrated, too. Who the hell was this guy? And why was he acting like such an ass?

“Back attcha, babe.”

And apparently, he was a mind reader. “Is there a reason you’re here? I was doing just fine by myself, thank you very much.” Figures, the first person she’d meet in the afterlife would be a jerk.

“Oh yeah? Sitting around on a cloud for a year is just fine? If you’d get your head out of the
cloud
, you’d know you could have moved on by now, but instead, I have to come drag your sorry ass back to rights.” He rolled his eyes again when she just stared at him. “I’m Saylor, and I’m your –” he made finger quotes “– spiritual guide. And really?” He opened his arms wide. “This is the best you could come up with?”

“How do you mean?” Tessa looked around at the empty space, nothing but cloud at her feet and pale blue air around them.

“Why not a flowery meadow? Or a lake?” In an instant, their surroundings changed and they stood beside a deep and clear lake surrounded by snowcapped mountains. “I’m partial to lakes, but you might like a beach, or something else.”

The air around them changed again, and they were both stretched out on beach chairs, a vast blue ocean before them. Tessa’s toenails blended into the horizon. A cabana boy wearing a speedo and carrying a tray with two drinks appeared. She nearly choked when she noticed the massive bulge at the front of his suit.

“You’re right, the beach is much better. Hello, lover.” Saylor ran his fingertips down the man’s thigh when the waiter bent to hand them their drinks. The guy winked at Saylor and ignored Tessa. She had to stretch to take her drink from the tray – even though it disappeared as soon as she picked it up – and she couldn’t miss the rapid expansion inside the front of the guy’s suit. The image in her mind of that thick muscle naked and aimed her way had her gasping for air.

Saylor leaned over and whispered behind his hand, “Would you think me terribly rude if I disappeared for just a few?” He ticked his head toward the retreating cabana boy.

Just a few steps away, the nearly-naked man vanished into thin air. Even though Saylor was right beside her, Tessa felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness. She looked up and down the beach, but she and her companion were the only signs of life. Or unlife. This was so confusing.

She’d been quiet long enough. It wasn’t in her to let herself be pushed around. “Why are you here again? You started to tell me, but I think you got sidetracked. You said something about a spirit guide.”

When he rolled his eyes again, Tessa had to hold back the urge to slap him upside the head. Eye rolling was a major pet peeve, one she’d quickly cured her fiancé of, back when she had a fiancé. Heaviness filled her heart. Ever since crossing over she managed to dodge all her morose feelings, but this Saylor guy was knocking down all those safety walls she’d erected. 

“I’m here to
guide
you to the other side.” The sound of his voice brought her back to the present. “Since you haven’t crossed over, you’re either incredibly stubborn, or you have unfinished business back in life. My guess is both.”

Unfinished business? Of course she had unfinished business! She’d died suddenly one night after Michael gave her the best orgasm of her short life. Neither of them could have predicted the aneurysm lying in wait.

“What kind of unfinished business? I mean, I had a lot of things going on. How am I supposed to know what to do?”

Saylor pulled an index card from the back pocket of his skinny jeans. “Don’t freak out, Princess. We’re not talking dry-cleaning you forgot to pick up, or that ridiculous Halloween costume you were making for you boy toy.” He flicked the card with his index finger. “Usually, unfinished business is a little more in-depth than the energy drinks you forgot to pick up at the store.”

He pursed his lips and covered them with his fingers as he read the card. “Aww, that’s so sad.”

“What’s so sad?” Tessa tried to see around his hand and read the card herself, but Saylor leaned away.

In a flash, the beach disappeared. She stood beside Saylor in her own living room. Stretched out on the couch was her fiancé, Michael. One hand held a can of beer while the other mindlessly thumbed the remote at the TV. He paused only seconds on each channel before moving to the next. The coffee table in front of him was littered with take-out boxes from at least four different restaurants. Judging by the color of the food, Tessa guessed several of them had been there for days.

But what struck her the most was Michael’s face. He looked older, yes, but despair now filled his once vibrant eyes. Dark circles intensified their hollowness. Tessa couldn’t help herself. She ran toward him, throwing herself on top of him, and just as she pounced, she was back at Saylor’s side. Her cry of “Michael!” stuck in her throat.

“Sorry, Princess. No touching.” Saylor squeezed her shoulder.

“But he looks terrible. What’s wrong with him?”

“It gets worse.” The light in the room changed and the pile of trash on the coffee table grew, but Michael remained – beer in one hand, remote in the other. Only his clothes and the growth of his stubble changed. Every few seconds, another outfit was replaced and his face became more gaunt.

“This can’t be all he does,” Tessa elbowed Saylor.

“Of course not. Watch.”

Michael stood and stretched before clicking the remote one final time. The screen darkened. They followed him as he turned out the lights of the apartment and stumbled to bed. Like a film in fast-forward, Tessa watched him toss and turn through the night.

When sunlight bathed the room, Michael sat at the edge of the bed scrubbing his face with his hands. He seemed reluctant to move.

“Just getting out of bed every day is such a challenge.” Saylor clucked his tongue against his teeth.

Now Tessa understood Saylor’s comment about how sad it was. It was pure agony seeing Michael this way. She’d give anything to be able to throw her arms around him in comfort. Wasn’t death supposed to end all of a person’s suffering? Why did it feel like her heart was breaking into a million pieces? Not that she wanted to give up feeling anything for Michael. That might even be worse.

From a short distance, Tessa and Saylor observed as Michael went about his day. From the moment he walked out the door for work, through his commute, meetings at the office, a quick lunch, filling out paperwork and another meeting, he barely spoke to another soul. His coworkers watched him too, and Tessa could see the same ache for him in their eyes.

Back at the apartment, her heart leapt a little when the phone rang. Finally. Maybe it was a friend calling, someone to drag him out of this solitary existence, make him interact with other people. But her hope was short lived after Michael answered the call.

“Hi Mom.” He plopped into his spot on the couch and punched in the digits for the History Channel. “Nah, just watching some TV. Probably call it an early night.”

Tessa shook her head and stomped her foot, the green of her toes momentarily catching her attention. “Saylor, this isn’t like him. This lump on the couch, this mopey guy isn’t Michael. Michael is the life of the party. He loves hiking and camping –”

“Sold all his gear,” Saylor said.

She rolled her own eyes. “He has dozens of friends. Where are they all? Why aren’t they helping him?”

“He’s ignored them and blown them off for so long, most of them gave up on him. They had to. He was dragging everyone around him down. Depressing as shit when the person you love refuses to see how bad he’s become.”

“So he’s my unfinished business?”

“Must be, Princess.”

She faced Saylor and straightened her stance, hands on hips. “And how am I supposed to fix him? There’s no way I can make him happy again.”

Squeezing her cheeks between his hands, Saylor said, “Think, Princess. How does one person get over another?”

Even though her lips were squished together, she sounded perfectly normal when she said, “How? He can’t see me. I’m going to take a wild guess and say he can’t hear me. There’s not much I can do.”

“You aren’t completely powerless.” Saylor tapped her cheeks. “Go whisper in his ear. Tell him you love him.”

That didn’t seem like a very good idea, considering she needed to get Michael over her. “How is that productive?”

“Fine.” He blew his curly bangs away from his eyes. “Tell him you’re horny.”

Tessa eyed him skeptically.

“Just do it. Try to sound...sexy. Sensual. Use that girl power of yours.”

Hmm, how did Saylor know that’s what Tessa used to call her flirtatious side? Even Michael told her time and again how he was powerless when it came to her girl power. Before she let the feeling make her long for something she couldn’t have, Tessa marched to lean over the back of the couch, her lips just an inch away from Michael’s ear.

“Baby, I want you,” she whispered. Michael sighed.

“You can do better than that,” Saylor said from over her shoulder.

She grumbled, but tried again. “Michael, I want you to make love to me.”

“Oh my God! How boring, Princess. Come on! With feeling,” he groaned.

Envisioning one of their more vigorous romps in bed, Tessa waited for the sharp pain in her head she now associated with sex, but it didn’t come.

“What’s the problem?”

“Nothing.” She shook her head, trying to lose the premonition. “I just used to get bad headaches after sex. Or I did the last few weeks before I died. Guess I’m still a little anxious about them.”

“Yeah, you probably should have had that checked out. Sex headaches can be a warning sign of an aneurysm.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Talk about too little, too late. “I Googled them, and it said it was possible, but highly unlikely.”

“Said the dead girl,” Saylor snorted in laughter. “Now come on. Make that boy horny!”

She tried again, this time picturing the way Michael could make her body respond.