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We reach the base of the ladder and Mateo unbuttons his shirt cuffs. I watch with shameless interest as he rolls one up. He smirks at the expression on my face.
“I always forget that this does it for you. Do you want me to go slower?” he teases.
I lean back against the ladder, reaching up to grab the rungs above my head. “That depends on what your intentions are once we get up there…”
Mateo stalks toward me, rolling up the other sleeve as his eyes devour me. “Why don’t you climb up and find out.”
I grin at him, kicking off my shoes and climbing the ancient ladder gingerly. He’s right though, the old girl feels sturdy. I’m about halfway up when I feel him climbing up behind me and I peer down at him. Mateo is watching me with a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Are you staring at my ass?”
“Absolutely.”
I’m still laughing as I reach the top and step onto the little porch. It’s pitch dark inside, and I left my phone at Gran’s house. “Do you have your phone? I can’t see anything and I’m not keen on getting my face bit off by rabid raccoons.”
Mateo chuckles, joining me on the landing. He ducks under the low doorway, grabbing my hand and pulling me into the dark. I grab his forearm as a little light flares, illuminating the small space. Mateo is holding a little flameless candle, which he sets in one corner of the room before grabbing another and turning it on.
My hand goes to my mouth as I look around the tiny fort. There are rose petals strewn around the floor and dozens of framed pictures cover the aged wood walls. He steers me to one picture in particular.
“I wanted to use real candles, but one spark and I’m pretty sure this thing would go up in flames. Start here,” Mateo says as I look up at him in wonder. Happy little goosebumps dance over my skin, tears welling up in my eyes as I focus on the picture he’s pointed me toward.
Flickering candle light dances off the images of Mateo and I growing up together. Toddlers, playing in the sandbox in little summer rompers. Four- and five-year-old versions of us playing in the sprinkler in Gran’s front yard, fully dressed and soaking wet. Six-year-old Mateo hugging me the morning of my second day of kindergarten when I didn’t want to go back. There’s one of us at about the same age, dancing, me in the blue Cinderella dress Gran made me and Mateo in the world’s cutest little windbreaker.
Then Lukas’ arm is around the two of us, all decked out in camo and war paint during our Rambo phase.
Some pictures have our siblings with us, dressed up for band concerts, school dances, and graduations. Then our timelines and pictures diverge and the images shift to ones of us separated. Me, grinning in my first pair of nursing scrubs, dancing at Chelsea’s wedding, holding my diploma in the air in my graduation gown, and my first day in the pediatric department at the hospital. There are selfies with my sisters and pictures of me working with the kids at the hospital.
Below those there are just three of Mateo, one in a training uniform, one of him drinking with a bunch of smiling Navy SEALs, and an officer pinning the Purple Heart to his uniform.
The next picture is more recent. Mateo and I dancing at Olive’s wedding, his arm wrapped around my waist, his broad hand splayed over my lower back. My hand is resting on his shoulder as I look up at him, smiling and a little surprised. His expression is so adoring. I don’t know how I could have missed it.
There are just a few more, all taken in the last six months. A selfie I took of the two of us to commemorate the day we decided he was already moved in, since I never really let him leave, anyway.
There’s a picture of Mateo and I grinning at the camera as we each held one of Lilah’s newborn twins.
The last picture is my favorite. It’s just the two of us laying in bed. I’m passed out cold, and he’s holding the camera up above us, holding a little sign that says:
“I want to wake up next to you every morning for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?”
My heart is racing frantically as I turn to look at Mateo. He’s behind me, on one knee, a ring box in his hand.
“Yes!” I blurt out, dropping to the ground and throwing my arms around his shoulders. I swipe at the tears running down my face, but I can’t get them to stop.
Mateo hugs me tight, chuckling. “I had an entire speech planned, you know.”
“Put the ring on my finger and then you can give me the speech,” I laugh into his neck.
Mateo cups my cheek, holding me so he can get a good look at my face. His thumb swipes away a tear before he leans in to kiss me. “I love you so much,” he whispers against my lips as he slips a ring around my finger. “This treehouse is the first place I realized I was in love with you. You swung out on that rope swing and tackled Asher as he walked by and I just remember thinking that no girl would ever be as amazing as you.”
I can’t help laughing at that as I swipe at my wet face.
“And then you grew up to be the most incredible woman… You’ve always been the only person for me, and these last few months have shown me that I’m only complete when I’m with you.”
Mateo’s fingers intertwine with mine and I feel the ring move against my skin, foreign but so completely welcome. I glance down at the sparkling diamond in a vintage band and realize it looks familiar. “Was this your mom’s?” My lips are wobbling, the floodgates about to burst.
“Yeah,” he says softly, rubbing his thumb over the ring. “If you don’t like it we can—”
I clap my hand over his mouth. “Shut your handsome face. I love it.”
