“You built a fuckingtreehouse?” I practically squeak.
“I mean,Ididn’t build it. Those guys from that one TV show did,” he says, trying to sound humble but definitely a low-key brag at the same time.
My head turns behind me to face him, jaw slack, eyes wide. “When on earth did you—how did you—Stone!” I manage to get one word out, at least.
He chuckles again, stepping back from me, head dropping to look down at the ground for a second. One of his booted feet toes the dirt and grass, then his focus is back to me.
“We finished filming the final bit today, actually.” He jerks a thumb in the direction of the monstrous creation. “I, uh, I told him I wanted to recreate my favorite childhood hangout. I kept our story private, but I gave him enough to go off of that they were able to make it feel a bit like our old hideout.”
The shy smile that tugs at his mouth isbeggingto be tasted, but I can tell he’s too excited to show me what’s waiting for me in this “treehouse”—I’d definitely be more inclined to call it a cabin in the sky, even from the looks of it here at ground level. So I bite back what I really want and let him.
“Show. Me. Everything,” I tell him, taking one of his hands with both of mine.
He leads me to the ramp excitedly, walking me up the curved entrance. Bushes of peonies in so many colors line the walkway, the base of the structure, and my eyes can’t take it all in fast enough. They shouldn’t even be in bloom in October, he must’ve had these imported or something. That realization does things for me.
At the top of the ramp, we come out onto a pretty spacious balcony, maybe we’d even call this a deck. It feels a lot like the platform we used to shoot the shit on as kids. The views on this one are insane, though. All I can see are treetops, for miles, where they fade and blend into the stunning rolling greenery of the Blue Ridge Mountains.
We’re below the tallest of the treetops on his property, but high enough to have the most gorgeous horizon in sight. This blows our old treehouse out of the water, even if I never went inside it. The sunsets from up here will be ridiculous. We still have another hour or two before it’ll hit today, but I hope we get to soak in every brushstroke of that masterpiece from right here.
There are two natural wood Adirondack chairs out here, a small table between them, and sliding glass doors that lead inside.
Aaron is quite literally bouncing on the balls of his feet with anticipation, excited energy, and it’s fucking contagious.
My grin feels like it rivals the warmth of the sun behind me as I turn to face him and he basks in it. “This is amazing, kid.”
His eyes darken briefly before he nods his head toward the interior of the build, grabs my hand and tells me, “Let’s go.” Of course I go.
The interior is compact, obviously, but for a treehouse? It’s huge. Breathtaking. The stuff dreams are made out of, actually. A dining table for two, a professional-grade coffee machine (yes, it makes lattes) in a little kitchenette that even has power and water—somehow—plus the most inviting, comfortable-looking king bed I’ve ever seen in a room that’s not much larger than the mattress itself. It’s decorated in natural wood tones with off-white accents, linens and bedding, and I’ve never seen anything more beautiful or inviting. I could curl up in this bed for days on end, with no need to leave, except to get more coffee from the kitchen.
Small greenery hangs from several points in each room, inviting more of that outside feel in here with us. There is so much natural light, natural materials everywhere, it’s almost hard to tell where the outdoors ends and the treehouse begins.
The bathroom is tight, but impressively designed and laid out. There’s a full-size toilet, a decent sized sink, and what I can only call the most glamorous shower I’ve ever seen in a treehouse.
He leads me back out into the living space, a cozy little area with a couple of really fat cushions on the floor that just screamcurl up and read in me. And sure enough, Aaron points above those cushions to a wall of built-in bookshelves.
“All of those books on your list are up here. I, uh, I was able to track down or order signed copies of almost all of them.” He wrings his hands, looking up at me almost shyly from under those lashes. “Once I realized you were being a little more generous than I’d hoped you’d be with me, and started wishing it might not just be me up here…I had them work in a reading nook into the design. I thought you could have a little getawayup here, if you, ya know, get sick of me or something.” His right hand curves around the back of his neck, rubbing at it anxiously.
My head shakes slowly from side to side, blown away by the thoughtful details, the way he’s created a haven that blends our pasts, and gives us a place to live out our future together.
“You did amazing, kid.”
“Kinda glad I didn’t have to turn this into a nursery overnight, truth be told,” he admits sheepishly, and I cackle at him.
“And if you ever run out of books for me to read…” he starts.
“Never gonna happen, kid, I’ve got a TBR a mile long for you now that I know what you like,” I tease him, thinking of the last book he finished (a particularly spicy one) that he felt the need to discuss with me—at length, and in great detail. He winks at me, and a flush heats my cheeks instantly.
He motions with his hand to a small table next to one of the cushions, which appears to have a variety of handheld gaming consoles and VR headsets resting there, waiting to be played. I gasp quietly, a little amazed that we can play video games, read, sleep, shower, have coffee, and hopefully never have to leave this place.I wonder if DoorDash could deliver to us back here? Then we’d probably be set, at least in the off-season.
He turns around, facing the other wall of the living space, waving his arm toward what he’s called hisfinal surprise, where I finally notice a record player, and an assortment of vinyls. Framed over the station is what looks like a gold album from New York Ave, with the artwork signed by all the members of the band. When my eyes take in the collection of records, stacked in their own little slot next to the player, I realize it’s all of their albums.
That’s when the tears start to hit me.
He’s taken some of the best things we’ve shared, our favorite pastimes and hobbies, and turned it into an escape for us both.Somewhere we can just beuswithout any pressures of the outside world, indulge in all of our favorite things, and make new memories together.
My hands start fanning my face rapidly, and I take a few brisk steps to get back out onto the deck, breathing in the fresh air and looking out at the landscape, trying not to break down on him.
Aaron trails behind me, and one of his hands reaches out to touch my arm comfortingly. “This wasn’t supposed to upset you, Gem. If it’s too much, forget I did anything. There’s no pressure, okay?”
