“You’ll see,” I say, squeezing her knee.
It’s only a minute before I turn onto the dirt path that cuts through the trees and leads to my land. When Dad bought this property, he let each of us choose a parcel for ourselves. Mine has the best view of the lighthouse and the cliffs, and of course, endless water. Every window of the future house will highlight the water.
Juju gasps as we pull up, and the structure comes into view.
She turns to me, eyes wide, voice barely above a whisper. “What have you done? It’s the tree house. Only so much better.”
Her gaze flicks from the whimsical structure nestled among the stunning tree branches to my face and back again.
Her mouth drops open, and her hand reaches for mine.
She’s quiet as I help her out of the truck, her eyes never leaving the tree house.
We walk up the ladder, sanded smooth. I ran my fingers over every inch, making sure there were no splinters. I lift her hand to the ladder, and she climbs up slowly, with me right behind her.
At the top of the stairs, I pause. “Ready?”
She nods, excitement bouncing off of her.
I push the door open, and she gasps.
The soft light spilling through the windows makes the inside look even more magical than the outside. And I have the same kind of twinkle lights that Juju insisted were in the original tree house, which makes her smile. This tree house feels like an extension of what we did to the resort. Like you might see a fairy dozing on a moss-covered tree trunk or lightning bugs slowing down to say hello. In the center is a beautiful round table Noah made, covered with an outrageous spread.
Fresh fruit sliced and shaped into a heart. Mini tarts with gold-dusted tops. Warm bread in a basket, with cheeses and figs and grapes draped on a plate next to it. Two silver domes cover the plates that I know have that pasta I made for Juju when we were kids.
“This is a dream,” she says reverently. “You did all this?”
“I had lots of help. Noah did all the hard parts.” I grin. “And Marilyn and Virginia brought the food over.”
“It’s gorgeous.”
“It’s yours…” I take her hand and go to the window, where we look out at the water. I point to the clearing in the trees next to us. “And a house right there, if you want it. If you want me.”
I take her hands, and she turns to face me. “I want you,” she whispers. “Forever.”
I drop to one knee and pull a ring out of my pocket, holding it up like an offering. My heart is hammering and my palms are sweaty, but when I look up at her face—those wide, beautiful eyes and the lips I’ve kissed a thousand times in my dreams and finally in reality—I’m not afraid. I’m certain.
“Juliana Fair,” I say, my voice steady, even though everything inside me is quaking. “I love you. I love all of you. I love the quiet times when it’s just the two of us in each other’s arms. I love when we talk about the little things, the big things, all the things.”
Her smile grows, but a tear drips down her cheek. I reach up and grab it with my thumb.
“I love when we shake with passion, how we can’t get enough of each other. I love trying to catch my breath with you.” I kiss the palm of her hand. “I even love when we insulted each other, back when we pretended to hate each other, because it’s made us appreciate what we have now even more. I’ll love you until the day I die and then some.” I take a deep breath. “Will you marry me?”
Her hand flies to her mouth, her eyes shimmering. I can see the tremor in her fingers, and the way her chest rises and falls like she’s breathless. She lets out a shaky laugh and drops her hand.
“Yes,” she whispers. Then louder and with certainty, “Yes, Camden. I will marry you. I cannotwaitto marry you.”
She sinks onto the floor in front of me, cupping my face in her hands. Her smile knocks the wind out of me.
“I love you,” she says. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives together. We are more than I could’ve ever dreamed of…and I think we’ll only get better.”
I slide the ring onto her shaking hand, or is that my hand shaking? She laughs again, tears rolling down her cheeks.
“I can’t believe this is real,” she says.
I lay her back on the pile of blankets and pillows arranged next to the table, and we christen the new tree house.
I think it may be the only time we’ve ever forgotten about the food.
