AN: Hello from Bunny and Fluff! We are going to blame getting sucked into a novel writing, baby rearing, life crashing time warp for the lateness of this chapter. We can't thank you enough for putting up with the delay. Especially those of you who've messaged, reviewed and even got down on your knees and begged for Bunny. For those who love him as much as we do. We missed Bunny, and we missed you too. So here you are. Unbeta'd so all mistakes belong to both of us (or mainly me -Sparrow). We thought a recap would be helpful as it's been two years since this…..

So yeah, Bunny's little bunny wasn't working, causing his porn-star career to flop (literally). Then he met a fluffer, who wasn't a fluffer, and turned out to be a really terrible sculptor instead. And their friends were even crazier than they were (is that possible?) and set fire to Bunny's house. Plus Fluff's dad ended up in the hot tub at Bunny's porn star party, which was really, really, eye-bleach worthy. Then there was a wedding, no wedding, whose wedding? And a pug called Emmett.

Have we missed anything? Almost definitely. Yeah, you're probably going to need to read back through the whole thing. Sorry!

Chapter 36 - Cliff Banger


I pull into the parking lot of the Sugar-Pine cafe. Dad is already there. I see his car winking in under the sun. I can't see him, but I know he's watching. Waiting. I roll by the long windows, looking for a parking space. A sedan pulls out, freeing up a spot. I can feel Dad's eyes on me tenfold, pressure like I'm about to perform an death-defying feat in front of millions. I make my first attempt. Of course, I misjudge it and have to reverse back and start again. Then I stall.

I'm as flustered as I am after ten rounds of hide the sausage with Bunny. I've been building up this talk with my dad for days, ever since I had a shaky adrenaline-fueled call from Bunny to let me know he was on the warpath. My hand eye co-ordination is shot, so I give up, having to squeeze out of the door so I don't dent the paintwork of the car beside me, I squish my boobs painfully against the window.

I can just imagine Dad shaking his head. My disastrous parking might even warrant a moustache twitch. Christ only knows what my fake marriage to a porn star did to him.

I spot him in the furthest booth, the one with the best view of my car. Of course. Sliding in, the vinyl seat squeaks against the back of my thighs. A pathetic ceiling fan is giving off about as much air as a fart, and my sweat beads in every crease.

"Hi, Dad." I smile but his lips are pursed like he's caught a whiff of a bad smell. Probably my fear.

"Bella." I feel about ten years old. He used the same tone when I thought it would be a good idea to stick NKOTB stickers all over the windshield of his newly refurbished vintage Dodge Charger.

Silence returns and I pick up a menu, reading it as intently as if I was about to have a pop quiz on the selection. A waitress comes over and fills up Dad's coffee, takes my order. Water. Anything else will send my churning stomach into eruption.

"So, how are you?" I ask, as he viciously stirs sugar into his coffee, creating a whirlpool I'm worried I might get sucked into.

"Fine. You?" He grunts.

"I'm good. Glad to be back." I address the Formica table top. Its glare can't match dad's.

"Hmm." Is all I get, but then he sucks in the longest breath, and I flinch waiting for him to start yelling. Instead he deflates like cheap paddling pool. "Hmm."

"Is that all you're going to say?" I dare to look at him.

"I trust you to do the right thing."

"And that would be…not … marrying." I find my mouth copying the shapes his makes as he silently spells it out for me. "not being marrying a porn star." He nods, and I see my dread reflected in his eyes. How do I tell him that's exactly what I want to do? I don't think 'the heart wants what the heart wants' is going to cut it.

"Okay. Okay well I see what you're saying, but the thing is there's some technicalities—" He stops me with a raised hand.

"I'm not interested. Just don't."

I nod, searching for the light switch in my brain, and when I find it is glorious. I can't marry a porn star but Bunny is retired which makes him an ex-porn star and Dad wasn't specific so … I want to fist pump, but I reign it in and let my toes doe a little dance in my sneakers instead. Better not push my luck.

"There's something else I've been meaning to talk to you about." Dad says, steepling his fingers and all my euphoria drains away.

"Go ahead." I wave and inadvertently draw the attention of the waitress. I take the chance to order some more water, because my mouth is as dry as unbuttered toast. She sets it down and flutters her eyelashes at my dad, knocking my shoulder with her lame attempt to improve on her cleavage. What shocks me more is not her blatant lack of professionalism, but that my dad doesn't even look. This worries me more than anything that's passed in the last ten minutes. Hell the last year. "What's up Dad?" I ask but my voice ruins my nonchalance by breaking like a twelve year old boy.

"There's something I wanted to talk to you about."

"You already said that."

"Did I?"

"Yes, now can you please talk about this thing you want to talk about?"

"I'm trying but you keep interrupting."

I bite down on my lips and widen my eyes at him.

"Is everything alright?" He pushes my water at me, "have a drink, are you choking?"

"Dad. Talk. Now." I slap my hand on the table, waving the waitress away before she even thinks of using it as an excuse to objectify my Dad again.

"Alright, alright. Hold onto your hat." He laughs and throws his white faux-snakeskin Stetson at me. It's as bad as it sounds. I launch it back at him, and wait for him to stock chuckling.

I give him the eyebrow, and he quietens down.

"So I've been meaning to tell you … I've met someone."

"You have?" I die a little inside when the image of him and Beverly Hills and her buoyancy aids float into my mind.

"I have. And … well I think it's getting serious."

I don't even know what to say. Panic is crawling over me like fire ants.

"I'd like you to meet her."

"Who, Dad?" I accidentally yell, drawing everyone's attention. "Who is it?"

We're driving along the freeway into LA to an important meeting in the next stage of our lives- the design stage of the BunnyBanger 5.0.

He is relaxed and heart-breaking as ever with his masterful hair blowing in the wind. I want to kiss the tiny creases on concentration around his eyes. I settle for holding his hand as it holds the gear stick. He flashes me a panty-dropping smile. I feel sorry for the industry – that they won't get to see him in all his glory any more. (Not really but let's pretend.)

"You know, the girls are going to be disappointed," I say.

"With what?"

"That you're retiring."

"They've got a back catalogue to keep them happy." He winks and I pout and let go of his hand. He chases it back and links his fingers with mine, pulling it onto his lap. "They'll get over it."

"Oh yeah, I can just see them saying "All these years of loyal support and all we get to show for it is a lousy sex toy."

"Lousy?" He barks out a laugh and drags my hand over the front of his jeans.

I squeeze. "Point taken." He shifts a little, growing hard under my touch.

I tease him a little until we swerve across the lane, and almost crash into a rusty minivan. "Okay maybe that wasn't not a good idea." I say to a disappointed groan. "Anyway, tell me about today. How does this work this … fitting."

"It's called a casting."

I feel the giggle building. "A casting? A cock casting? Oh my god."

"What? Why's that funny?"

I can't breathe and my stomach hurts from imaging Little Bunny sat on a red velvet couch in front of directors shouting – now try sad, how about angry, let see if you can do happy and carefree-imagine you're a tree in a strong breeze. I fall back into another round of giggles.

"Are you going to let me in on this joke?" He's starting to look hurt, but I can't stop laughing long enough to string two sentences together. He shakes his head and pinches my knee until I scream and slap his hand away. "I'll tell you later."

He's still smiling as we pull off the slip road, blinkers clicking. My smile on the other hand has slipped off about the time I remembered the other thing I have to tell him about...

My Dad and his Mom.

So wrong in the same sentence.

Not according to them, it's not.

Thanks for sticking with our craziness.

Sparrow & Choc. xx