"What are you doing, Remy?" she asks, a laugh in her voice.

"Up a step." His hands are over her eyes. He guides her forward with his body, then leans close to whisper in her ear. "Jus' trust me, chérie."

He pulls his hands away.

She's standing on a wide porch overlooking a beach. A white picket fence runs around the little house with its garden and its porch. She turns around and around then lands both arms on Remy's chest and kisses him.

He laughs against her mouth. "Two years behind a white picket fence," he whispers.

He remembered.