I glance at her and grin. “Okay Snowflake… there’s one more surprise waiting for you inside.”
Her eyes light up, that sweet surprised sparkle I love more than anything. “Another one? Aspen, you’ve already done so much! Paris was everything. I don’t need anything else.”
“I know,” I say turning into the driveway. “But I wanted to, just… humor me, alright?”
She laughs softly and my heart damn near melts. I park the car and quickly hop out, circling around to open her door like the gentleman she teases me for pretending to be.
“Alright, eyes closed. Hold my hand.”
She closes them without protest and threads her fingers through mine. God, I love her. I lead her up the porch steps fumbling with the lock because my hands are sweating.
I guide her through the front door, careful with every step as we move through the living room and toward the kitchen. Her feet are bare, she always kicks her shoes off as soon as we’re home. I hear her breath catch a little when the wood floors cool her toes.
I can barely contain the nerves bubbling in my chest as I lead her down the hallway, her hand small and warm in mine. She keepsasking where we’re going, and I just smile and shake my head.Almost there.
I am amazed with what I see, but try hard to hold my shock in so Genevieve can see it for herself.
We stop, I take a deep breath.
“You ready?” I ask, voice barely above a whisper.
She nods, eyes still shut tight smiling like she already knows I’m up to something crazy.
“On the count of three you can open your eyes. One… two… three!”
I soak in her reaction as her eyes scan the room—the way they widen.
The kitchen is completely redone, top to bottom. Warm wood floors stretch beneath our feet grounding the crisp white cabinets that now line the walls. Every appliance is brand new sleek, polished, and untouched. Gold accents glint from the handles, the faucet, even the light fixtures overhead. Everything feels bright, open and calm. Like her.
She opens her mouth once, closes it, tries again, still nothing. Her eyes brim over before she manages to whisper, “You did this?”
I nod, trying to play it cool even though my heart’s pounding. “I love you and I want you to have the kitchen of your dreams. Now you can cook to your heart’s content with no stress,” I say.
“It’s perfect,” She whispers. Tears prickling at her eyes.
This wasn’t just about giving her a beautiful kitchen.
It was about giving her something solid. Something that says:I care, I listen, I want you here in this life, in this place with me.
“I’m glad you like it,” I say.
“I love it!” She says, wrapping her arms around me and without another word and presses a kiss to my lips soft, slow, and full of everything she’s feeling but not saying.
“To be known, is to be loved. Thank you,” She whispers against my mouth. “This is the best birthday gift I’ve ever gotten.”
I grin, brushing her hair back from her face. “Well… there’s one more.”
She pulls back slightly, brow raised. “There’s more?”
I tug up the sleeve of my hoodie and show her the inside of my forearm, where the skin is still a little red and healing. A tiny intricate snowflake inked in black rests just above the bend of my elbow.
Her hand flies to her mouth. “Aspen…”
“I know it’s cheesy,” I laugh, a bit self-conscious.“But I call you Snowflake for a reason. You’re one of a kind. And now I’ve got a piece of you with me always.”
She doesn’t say anything for a second, just stares at the tattoo like it means the whole world to her. She grazes a finger over the ink gently, reverently, as if it might smudge if she pressed too hard.
“I may talk like I run the show, but you know damn well I melt the second you touch me,” she says.
