Mateo suddenly lunges up and tackles Maya gently into the snow, both of them giggling uncontrollably. She flops back, arms wide, making a snow angel around her own laughter. Mateo collapses beside her, out of breath, his dark curls dusted in white.
I drop down beside them, breathless and red cheeked, my hair stuck to the inside of my scarf. All three of us lie there in the snow, staring up at the sky as soft flakes begin to fall again, slow and lazy like confetti at the end of a party.
Maya wiggles closer to me, pulling one of my arms around her, then reaches for Mateo’s hand on her other side. He threads his fingers through hers without a word.
“I think I won,” Maya says after a moment.
“In your dreams,” Mateo teases.
“I definitely won,” she says with authority, a smug little grin tugging at her lips.
“You didn’t even let me keep score,” I argue. “There was no official referee.”
“There was no need,” Maya says matter-of-factly. “You were both clearly losing.”
We laugh again. The sun is starting to dip behind the trees, painting the sky in pale hues of lavender and gold. I can feel the wetness of the snow seeping through my jeans, but I still don’t want to move.
Mateo shifts onto his side, propping his head up with one hand as he watches us. “This might’ve been the best day I’ve had in years,” he says.
I meet his gaze. “Same.”
Mateo kisses Maya’s cheek, then mine. “Let’s go get cocoa,” he says, brushing snow from his sleeves.
She lifts her arms up dramatically. “I accept your offer!”
Mateo scoops her into his arms like she’s a tiny queen and spins her around again. Her laughter floats into the sky. I follow behind them, framed by the last light of the day, snowflakes catching in their hair, joy trailing behind them like a ribbon.
The sight of them makes my heart feel so full it might burst.
Back home, we peel off wet layers and dump gloves by the heater to dry. Mateo starts a fire in the living room while I warm up cider on the stove.
Maya settles on the couch with a blanket and the marshmallow heavy mug I hand her. “This was the best day ever.”
“You say that every snow day,” I tease.
“Because they keep getting better.”
Mateo comes over and sits beside me, arm wrapping around my shoulders. “We should make this a tradition. First snowstorm of the year, snow chaos and cocoa.”
I lean into him. “Deal.”
Maya yawns, fighting sleep, but it wins. She drifts off halfway through a movie, curled between us.
Mateo pulls the blanket higher over her shoulders. “She’s out.”
“Hard day ruling a snowy kingdom.”
He smiles. “She’s something else.”
“She’s everything.” I glance up at him. “So are you.”
His eyes meet mine, and there’s something so tender in them it makes my throat tighten.
“I think this,” he says softly, nodding at the fire, the sleeping child, the warm house, “is the happiest I’ve ever been.”
I reach for his hand, intertwining our fingers. “Me too.”
Outside, snow still falls softly, blanketing the world in peace. But in here, with him, with her, I’ve never felt more at home.
