Page 116 of Not For Keeps
“Dulce de leche,” he says. “Don’t say I never gave you anything.”
I smile. “You spoil me every day.”
He flops down beside me, stretching his arm across the back of the couch. His fingers toy with a strand of my hair. “How’s the leg?”
“Sore,” I admit. “But manageable.”
“Do you want anything else? Extra pillow? Massage? Foot rub? My eternal devotion?”
“You already gave me that last one, remember?”
He leans in, pressing a kiss to my temple. “Still offering it daily.”
“I’m proud of you,” I say quietly.
He glances over. “For what?”
“For today. For letting people throw pies in your face and smiling through it. For making everyone laugh. For reminding me why I fell in love with you in the first place.”
Mateo’s eyes flicker, something tender settling in them. “You saying you almost forgot?”
“Never,” I quickly respond. Taking a slow breath, I ask, “You know what I kept thinking tonight?”
“Hoping no one accidentally pegged the mayor with a cupcake?”
I laugh. “That, yes. But also, I kept thinking about how much we’ve already rebuilt.”
He tilts his head. “Do you mean the school?”
“No. Us. Our life. Everything. A few weeks ago, I was afraid of letting myself want any of this. And now, I can’t imagine a future without you in it.”
He doesn’t speak right away. He just looks at me like I’m the only one in the room worth looking at. Then he lifts my hand and presses a kiss to the center of my palm. “You’ve always been it for me, Analyse. Even when we were just pretending. Even when you didn’t know it yet. Hell, even when I didn’t know it yet.”
“I knew,” I whisper. “I just didn’t trust myself to believe in it.”
He tucks a curl behind my ear, his voice low. “Then let me make you believe it, every damn day.”
I nod, and he leans in to kiss me slowly. When we part, I rest my forehead against his.
“What happens next?” I ask, more to myself than to him.
“Well,” he says, shifting to pull a folded piece of paper from the table. “This happens.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What is that?”
“Permit forms,” he says, smug. “For the backyard ceremony. You said you wanted to get married as soon as you could walk without the crutches. I figured I’d get ahead on the paperwork.”
Tears blur my vision, but I manage a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m yours,” he corrects, then grins. “And I’m ready. We’ve done the hard part, chula. Now we get to do the fun part.”
The clock ticks quietly behind us. Outside the window, the moon is high and silver, casting soft shadows over the quiet neighborhood.
I glance over at the photos on the wall. Me and Maya at the pumpkin patch, Mateo holding her on his shoulders, a candid from the night of Christmas dinner. I see love in every single frame.
“I want to tell Maya tomorrow,” I say softly.
He just nods. “We’ll do it together.”
