Page 15 of How to Love a Mountain Man

“Because it turned out he knew what he was doing. Just like I have a feeling you and Finn will figure out the perfect spot for your treehouse.” I press a kiss to her hair. “That is, when you’re ready to listen to each other.”

Josie and I sit in comfortable silence for a while, watching a pair of bluebirds flit between the trees. When I hear voices approaching through the woods, I look up to see Julian and Finn returning. There’s something different about Finn’s posture now, his earlier frustration replaced by barely contained excitement.

“We have a proposal,” Julian announces, winking at me over our son’s head.

Finn clears his throat and straightens up, clutching his blueprint. “After careful consideration of various factors?—”

“Finn.” Julian’s voice carries a gentle reminder.

“Right. Sorry.” Finn takes a breath and starts again, this time sounding more like himself. “What if we built the treehouse where the three maples grow really close together? The ones past the fallen log?”

I know the spot immediately. It’s almost exactly between the creek and the maple tree spot Josie wanted—the perfect middle ground.

Josie frowns. “But that’s not?—”

“Let me finish?” Finn bounces on his toes. “The trees make this triangle, see? So we could build the main part in the biggest tree, but then have rope bridges to platforms in the other trees. One platform could face the creek for my spy missions, and the other could have the mountain view you want.”

Josie sits up straighter, but her expression remains carefully neutral. “How big would the platforms be?”

“Big enough for your reading bean bag on one, and my telescope on the other.”

A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, but she presses her lips together. “I need to think about it.”

“Okay.” Finn shifts his weight from foot to foot. “But do you maybe want to see the blueprint while you think?”

Josie stands and brushes off her shorts. “Maybe after dinner. I need to process the proposal first.”

This time I can’t hold back my laugh.

By late afternoon, the treehouse location remains officially undecided, but the way Josie keeps wandering over to study Finn’s blueprint tells me we’re making progress. When Julian suggests making his Grandma Rose’s pasta sauce for dinner, both kids practically race into the house.

I pause in the doorway, struck by one of those moments that still hits me sometimes—how this house, which I once viewed as thesymbol of everything I didn’t want, has become the heart of our family. Through the trees, I can just make out my old cabin, now converted into a guest house. These days I still slip over there sometimes when I need an hour of perfect quiet, but I inevitably find myself drawn back home to the happy chaos of our family.

“No peeking, Mom!” Josie calls from the kitchen. “You can’t see the secret ingredient!”

“I promise to shield my eyes,” I say solemnly, following their voices to find Julian pulling ingredients from the cabinets while the kids hover nearby, treating the preparation of their great grandmother’s sauce like a sacred ritual.

They make a show of turning their backs to me when Julian reaches for the small jar of spices, even though I’ve known the secret ingredient since our first anniversary.

“Remember,” Finn whispers loudly, “Mom can never know.”

“Never ever,” Josie agrees, before dissolving into giggles.

I join them at the counter, starting on the garlic bread while Julian stirs the sauce. The kitchen fills with warmth and familiar scents as we work together, and I’m struck by how full my life has become. Tomorrow I’ll spend the afternoon bouncing between Josie’s dance studio and Finn’s baseball field, watching my kids chase their dreams in their own different ways. This weekend we’ll join our fellow mountain families—Courtney and Ryder, Jordana and Griffin, and Paige and Hawk—for our monthly cookout, all our kids running wild through the woods together while we catch up on life.

It took time to find this balance—the perfect mix of quiet mornings with my books, busy afternoons with the kids, and treasured evenings with our little mountain community. Butwatching my family move around the kitchen now, stealing tastes of sauce when they think Julian isn’t looking, I know every step of the journey was worth it, even the toughest ones.

“Sauce check!” Julian announces. He appears with a spoon, offering me a taste. “What’s the verdict, Mountain Mama?”

I accept the bite, and sure enough, the spoonful still tastes exactly like that first night during the snowstorm. “Perfect as always.”

After dinner, we settle into our usual spots in the great room. Finn and Josie sprawl on the floor beside the fireplace while I curl into my favorite corner of the couch, surrounded by the huge floor-to-ceiling bookshelves Julian surprised me with on our first anniversary. The kids are at that perfect age where they still want bedtime stories but compete to outdo each other with their dramatic readings.

Julian’s strong arm wraps around my shoulders as he settles beside me. While the kids trade off reading pages, arguing about proper dragon voice interpretation, I find myself stealing glances at Julian. It’s completely unfair how men just get more attractive with age—his hair is a touch darker now, and there are laugh lines around his eyes in a way that makes my stomach flutter like crazy. But am I complaining about having such a ridiculously hot husband? Not a chance.

When the kids’ voices start to fade with sleepiness, Julian declares it’s bedtime. They trudge upstairs after we give them lots of hugs and kisses, and their soft bickering abouttreehouse plans drifts down the stairs until a comfortable silence eventually settles over the house.

In the quiet, Julian’s fingers trace lazy patterns on my shoulder. “Hey, you know what I was thinking about today?”

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