My heart flutters and it’s impossible to wipe the grin off my face as I snap one pic after the next.
The way I love this man defies words. Hell, it defies logic.
I never knew I could feel so much or love so deeply, but every day with Brady is better than the last. Sure, we have the occasional spat over what to eat for dinner or what movie to watch or why he left a rank sock on the floor, but it’s all small stuff.
He’s there for me when it matters and I know that with him at my side, I really can accomplish anything.
A little girl in a purple dress inches toward the photo booth, her mom gently encouraging her to step up. The poor thing can’t be more than three, and the look on her face says she isn’t having it. Brady waves and she takes another step forward, but when he pats the bench next to him, she bursts into tears.
“It’s okay,” I tell her, squatting down to eye-level. “You don’t have to sit with him if you don’t want to. The Easter Bunny knows some children are shy.”
She eyes me warily as her mom wrings her hands.
“I’m so sorry. The same thing happened at Christmas, but I thought maybe she’d do better with the Easter Bunny.”
“It’s okay. Happens all the time.” Not here on the farm, but I’m sure it happens somewhere.
Nora didn’t take me for holiday pictures growing up, but I have a feeling if she’d put my three-year-old ass on the bench with a giant white rabbit, I probably would’ve freaked the eff out too.
“If you’d like,” I say, turning back to the girl, “you can stand in front of the Easter Bunny and get a picture without sitting on his lap or talking to him.”
Her brow furrows as she considers and I point to a pot of pink tulips.
“If you stand right there, we can get a nice picture for mommy.”
She agrees and her mom flashes me a grateful smile as I snap the pic.
By the time we wrap up for the day, Brady’s seen well over one hundred children and with only two criers in the group, I’m calling it a success.
I lead him back to the barn and true to character, he doesn’t say a word, just waves as we pass the children in the petting zoo.
We enter the barn and Brady makes a beeline for the stall where he dressed as I close the door behind us. Can’t have any kids seeing the Easter Bunny disrobe, now can we?
He peels off his gloves and drops them in the costume box as I pull out my phone and check the home screen.
One new email.
My heart leaps into my throat the way it does every time I receive an email lately.
It’s probably just a sale notice, but I tap the email icon, adrenaline coursing through my veins.
My eyes go directly to the sender.Monroe County Schools.
I interviewed there three weeks ago, and I thought it went well, but it’s so hard to tell and I heard nothing afterward.
Just open it up and see what it says.
I tap the message and hastily skim through the opening paragraph.
We are pleased to offer you a position teaching third grade…
A thrill races up my spine and a loud squeal bursts from my lips.
“I got the job!” I flip my phone around so Brady can see the screen. “In Monroe County.”
His face lights up, or I assume it does. I can’t actually see it because he’s still wearing the Easter Bunny head. “Congratulations, darlin’. I’m so proud of you. I’m going to take you out to celebrate tonight.”
The juxtaposition of his deep gravelly voice coming out of that costume is…everything.
