Page 129 of Deep In Love
The dream is so vivid, I could reach out and hold it in my palm. It will require work and sacrifice, and the path may not be smooth, but if Mateo is by my side, I’d walk any road with him.
He hums a new song, and my heart bursts.
I’m not sure I would have ever uncovered what was right in front of me, but as Mateo peeks around his computer to wink at me, I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, falling in love with Mateo was the greatest discovery of all time.
Epilogue
Charlie
Three year later…
“It’s time to wake up, bruja.”
The ornate blood-red curtains blocking the abrasive morning sunlight are ripped back, and I scramble beneath the covers, hiding like a vampire burned in the daylight.
Truthfully, I’ve been up for the last half hour, but I like when Mateo drags me from the bed, pats me on the butt, and tells me it’s time to get ready for the day.
He’s like a personal butler, with sexy hair and a sinful smile.
The covers rustle, and the edge is pulled back to expose the top of my head. I’m blessed with a glorious smile before he leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead.
I’ve grown greedy. I know it. Mateo knows it. Hell, I think the whole world knows it. I love when he wakes me up in the morning, and when he stopped for a few days early on in our relationship, I may not have taken it well. There may have been tears and questions whether he was upset with me.
“Good morning,” I whisper.
The bright light filters into the upscale hotel room Mateo booked for our graduation trip. It’s exactly what I expected for a hotel room in London. Ornate gold details and historical wooden furniture. A massive four-poster bed sits in the center of the room, with plush linen sheets and a deep-red bench in front.
The sheets are heavy and expensive—I could spend forever here—but Mateo flips back the covers and pulls me out of bed and into a chaste kiss. It deepens until I’m pressed against him, but he separates and corrals me into the bathroom.
When I’m done, he’s hovering by the door, waiting to usher me back to the bed.
He’s acting strange.
“You’re being weird…”
“No I’m not.” The left corner of his mouth twitches. It’s his tell when he’s lying. Over three years together, and I know everything there is to know about Mateo. How he likes his eggs. How he celebrates holidays. I even know when to avoid the bathroom.
I’ve shared every secret I have with him. He’s held my hand in therapy as I worked through my trauma from the car accident, and carried all the things I couldn’t at the time. And when I was ready, he kept his promise, and we let go of them together. On mornings my joints ache, he’s there with the balm, and on nights where sleep evades me, he’s ready to pull me closer.
He holds every single piece of me in the palm of his hands—the good, bad, and ugly—and he keeps them safe.
Mateo is a good, kind man, and he’s continued to prove it every day.
We’re staring at each other in a state of silence before he breaks it with a wobbly smile.
“I got something for you.”
He pushes me onto the bench, and while he digs through his suitcase, I admire his ass. He turns around, a small box in his hands, wrapped in bright-pink wrapping paper and a white sparkly bow.
The gift has Amy’s name written all over it.
He hands it over, shifting on his feet. I untie the large bow, and beneath the knot, written with Sharpie on the paper, it says, “Mateo did not wrap this. I did. Love, Amy.”
I laugh softly to myself and peel away the decorative wrapping and open the box. I inhale a sharp gasp. A beautiful white sundress, covered in small tropical fish, lies within the garment box.
I’m afraid to touch the dress or dirty it in any way, but Mateo lifts it out of the box by the thin straps and displays it for me.
“Amy made sure I got the right size, but I wanted something special for you to wear today.”
