The funeral was set for the following Friday morning. Niall got to Columbia the night before. After he took his bags off the baggage claim conveyor belt, Niall and I got in my rental car and went to the hotel for bed.
The process of getting ready for bed was uneventful until I came out of the bathroom in my bra and panties because I’d forgotten my nightgown.
“Hot damn…” I heard Niall mutter under his breath.
“I’m sorry?” I said.
“Don’t bother putting your nightgown on. I wanna have sex. Right now.” He took his nightshirt off to reveal a sexy six-pack.
“I’ll have sex with you on one condition: if I get pregnant, you have to be there for the baby’s birth AND all its life.”
We took each other’s underclothes off, and Niall turned me on by licking my privates. It worked, and I moaned for him to keep going. Then, I got the sudden urge to give him a hickey and started sucking on the soft spot of his neck.
“You know, a hickey wouldn’t be appropriate at a funeral,” Niall said.
“Pop the collar on your shirt,” I suggested, and continued with the sex. We went at it for a full two hours.
The next morning, Niall and I met everyone else at the chapel for Aunt Mary Lou’s funeral. There were several teenagers, probably Aunt Mary Lou’s seventh-grade English students, and their parents.
Two girls caught a glimpse of Niall and ran up to us. “Niall Horan!” one girl said. “I never thought I’d find you here! Who’s the girl?”
“I’m Valerie, and I was Mary Lou’s niece,” I introduced myself. “Were you students of hers?”
The girl nodded sadly. “Mrs. Kuhn was the best.”
“I heard she’s being replaced by Mrs. Stump. She’s the meanest sub in the whole school!” her friend said.
Just then, people started filing into the sanctuary, so the girls joined their parents, and Niall and I followed the large group and sat down in the front row, which was designated for family.
Uncle Oliver gave the eulogy, and by the time he was done, about half the congregation, me included, was on the verge of tears. At the end of the ceremony, the choir performed a gospel version of “I Won’t Give Up” by Jason Mraz. That song did it for me. I cried on Niall’s shoulder all the way out the door.
The next day, Niall and I parted ways again. I went back to Baton Rouge, and Niall went back to London to work with the guys on their next album.
I got home two days later, and as soon as I walked through the door and said hello, Amber came toddling up to me. “MAMA!” she exclaimed.
“Hi, sweetie!” I said, picking her up. “Did you miss me?”
Sarah joined us in the foyer. “Hey, I thought I heard you come in,” she said. “How was the trip?”
Before I could answer, the doorbell rang. I answered it to reveal Joel Baxter, the guy who’d walked out on me.