I turn around to face him. “Hi,” I say, leaning back against the counter. “Where have you been?”
His eyes light up as he steps closer, a mischievous glint in his gaze. “Had to pick up something,” he says softly. “What do you have there?”
"Just a little snack," I say, lifting a cracker up to him. “Want some?”
He tilts his head, his eyes drifting to my lips, lingering there with a heat that makes my heart skip. “You’ve got a little something… right here,” he murmurs, his voice low. His finger lightly brushes his own lip as he points it out, and I reach up to wipe it away.
But he catches my hand and gently pulls it down between us. “Let me,” he says, his eyes locked on mine.
He draws close, and I feel his breath against my skin before his lips brush the corner of my mouth—so close, yet so tantalizingly far. My heart pounds in my chest, every fiber of me begging for him to claim the kiss that's long overdue, but instead, he pulls back slightly and opens his mouth. I slip the cracker between his lips, and he chews slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. Finally, a smile spreads across his face. “It’s good,” he nods as he gently licks his lips, a slow, deliberate motion that feels far too intimate.
I tear my gaze away, my cheeks burning as my mind races, desperately trying to erase the forbidden images his every move has etched into my thoughts.
Then, I watch as he reaches for my hand. “Wait!” I laugh, pulling back a little. “Let me wipe my hands—there’s strawberry jam all over—”
But before I can finish, he takes my hand and brings it to his lips. His gaze is still locked on mine, steady and intense, as he gently slips each jam-covered finger into his mouth. One by one, he savors the sweetness as though it's the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted.
"Mateo," I whisper, my breath hitching in my throat.
“Uh-hum,” he says, his voice low, the world narrowing down to the two of us, here in this kitchen, caught in a moment that feels all-consuming.
I swallow hard, trying to steady my racing pulse. “You’re trouble, Mateo,” I whisper as he steps closer, crowding me against the sink until his lips hover just a breath away from mine.
Instead of the kiss I’m expecting, he brushes his lips against my cheek before he whispers, “Marry me,hermosa.”
His words leave me breathless. My ears ring with disbelief, but there’s no mistaking what I just heard. My eyes widen, my mouth goes dry, and my knees threaten to give way as my heart stumbles wildly, unsure whether to race forward or stop altogether.
He pulls back slightly, just enough to look at me. The intensity in his gaze steals the air from my lungs, and I can see it in his eyes—he’s not kidding.
I shake my head until I find my voice. “Mateo, I—”
My words falter, caught between the protest forming on my lips and a yearning I’m too afraid to name.
He smiles and, without a word, drops to one knee, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket. “If we’re going to convince your father—if I’m going to make sure he understands he can never speak to you that way again—then we need to make it official.”
He opens the box, and inside is the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen. A brilliant, round diamond sits on a delicate platinum band encrusted with tiny diamonds that create a sparkling path to the heart of the ring. My breath catches, and my pulse gallops erratically in my chest as I imagine it on my finger—a symbol of something enduring, something binding, something real. But what we have is not real. Is it? Or am I just being swept up in this moment, in the illusion of forever?
“Mateo,” I say, my voice catching in my throat, a lump forming that threatens to break free.
“Hermosa, answer me with your heart, not with your intellect,” he murmurs, his tone so sure, it feels like a caress against my skin. His words slip past my defenses, reaching somethingvulnerable and hidden inside me, stirring feelings I’d kept carefully guarded all these years.
His eyes are so blue, so full of emotion, so revealing that for a moment, my doubt wavers. But I can’t afford to let my guard down. I open my mouth, about to ask him to stand, when a movement by the back door catches my eye. I glance up just in time to see my father standing there, framed in the doorway, a scowl etched deep across his face, his gaze as sharp and unyielding as steel.
I look back at Mateo, who remains kneeling and blissfully unaware of my father’s presence. With my eyes filled with tears, and my heart swelling with an unfamiliar yet thrilling emotion, I extend my trembling hand toward him and whisper the one word that changes everything: “Yes.”
He slips the ring onto my finger, and in an instant, he lifts me off the floor and into his arms, spinning me around until the world blurs, and his laughter fills the room—and my heart. But then, the sharp sound of my father clearing his throat cuts through the air, pulling us both back to reality with a jolt.
He gently sets me down, his hand protectively wrapping around my waist, before he turns to address my father. "Stan, I'm glad you're here to witness this special moment with us."
My father’s gaze sharpens, his eyes narrowing as suspicion fills his voice. "I thought you two were already engaged."
Mateo meets his gaze with a calm, unwavering smile. "I had to get the ring resized, so we're just making it official. Again," he says, his voice confident. "Show him,hermosa. Show your father your engagement ring."
I step closer to my father and extend my hand, letting him take a good look at the ring. He grasps my hand, tilting it from side to side as the diamond catches the light, then lifts it nearer to his face to inspect the details. His gaze narrows as he examines the stone, scrutinizing every facet with a furrowed brow.
"Do you know a lot about rings, Stan?" Mateo asks with a smile that doesn't convey the least bit of amusement.
"What is there to know?" Dad asks, almost sneering. "You've seen one ring; you've seen them all. For all I know, you picked it up from a fifty-cent gumball machine at the local novelty shop."