Beck captures my lips in a soft kiss. “It was fate.” I love the feel of his mouth on mine, and it would be easy to forget our surroundings and lose myself in the sensations he causes. Tingles spread out from my lips, and I look forward to having time to explore his body without worry of being caught by coworkers or fear of losing Tasha.
“Do you want this, Lia? Truly? Now that we don’t have an audience clinging to every word… I need to know. Do you really want to marry me?” His fear of being rejected is plainly written across his face and in the taut lines of his muscles beneath his button-down.
Nodding, I carefully adjust how Beck is holding me so that we are facing one another. He’s so handsome that it makes my heart race. “I don’t want to give you a big head, but I’ve wanted to marry you since I was at least ten. It’s always been you.” His mouth parts in a huge smile, and bubbles of joy cascade through my chest as he beams. “I love you, Beck.”
“And I love you.” He lifts me in the air, spinning us around. It’s dizzying from more than the position. “Do you have any thoughts on when we should get married?”
I don’t have the heart to tell him that Tasha had considered running off to Las Vegas. Thinking of all the effort that goes into planning a wedding, I think eloping isn’t that bad of an idea. “Maybe before the baby is born but not right away?” Making my way down the aisle with a huge belly was not how I envisioned looking on my wedding day, but I want to have some time with Beck to make sure we’re doing the right thing. I’ve been set on him since pretty much forever; he’s been my one and only. I want him to make sure that he wants me for more than lust and the fact that I’m pregnant.
“Is tomorrow too soon?” he questions. “Maybe next Saturday instead?” He’s teasing as I protest. Beck brushes his lips across the diamond ring, grinning at me like he’s won the lottery. Yeah. I can so get used to waking up to that face on the pillow beside me, even if I sort of remember him snoring when I was there for sleepovers during high school.
Beck offers me the use of a fleet car to go home. “You should go have your talk with Tasha, and I’ll figure out how we can get through the rest of the planned events for this party in what little time we have left. Should I pick up an order of taco pizza from Mangia’s and a two liter of grape soda on my way home?” It was always Tasha’s favorite food for a late night emotional binge.
“Yeah. That would probably be good. I think she’ll need it.” My stomach growls and my mouth waters as I think of everything else at the restaurant. “Maybe their chocolate cherry brownie pizza for dessert?” I bat my lashes as I ask.
“We have an entire table of desserts here. We can box up anything you want.” Beck looks down at my upturned face as I frown. “What?”
I drag his hands to my belly. “Baby wants chocolate cherry brownie pizza from Mangia’s.”
He’s smiling indulgently as he kisses me. “Then I guess I better get a taco pizza, a dessert one, and the grape soda. Text me when you are ready for me to come home.”
The tree canopy is so dense I can’t make out the sky, and I regret not bringing a real flashlight to make my way through the darkness. Years of sneaking through the overgrown paths grant speed to my steps, and I run through underbrush, ducking past thorny vines and branches. One snags my hair, catching, and I tug free the strands with only a wince. The blackberries growing thickly here have done worse to me in the past.
Beck’s six acres blends into a nature preserve on the back of the property, and it’s in that no-man’s land of wilderness that Tasha and I discovered a treehouse when we were kids. We hid in the treehouse for most of a night when she accidentally broke a window trying to recreate a favorite movie scene. It was where I ran and took shelter from the world when my mom died. The treehouse witnessed all our important moments. It was where Tasha and I talked about what it was like having her parents divorced. We were even there at fourteen when she told me about letting a boy touch her barely-there boobs and how he’d gotten hard and ran away from her in embarrassment. We laughed about boys there, cried over boys there, and it was our special place long after we should have given up treehouses at the edge of spooky woods.
It was also in our treehouse that Tasha made me promise not to sleep with her dad. It has to be there that I tell her about Beck and me. I wasn’t able to bring her to the treehouse when I first lost my virginity; being a few states away had made that conversation happening in person unlikely. All our big events had been shared in the old oak tree with its planks of wood and a rope ladder Beck had replaced with one not so dilapidated after I dislocated my shoulder falling from it.
When I called Tasha from the company party and asked her to meet me at our old hideout, there was no asking of why or delaying it to tomorrow. She knew whatever I had to talk about was big. She promised to bring the requisite popcorn. I didn’t have the heart to tell her no. Rituals were meant to be kept, even if promises couldn’t be. I couldn’t wait. Couldn’t risk her hearing it from someone else.
Ahead of me, the darkness is pierced with the golden glow of a lantern. At least one of us thought ahead. I only have my phone’s flashlight, and I don’t want to use up the battery that quickly. If she abandons me here, I might need it to find my way back.
“Lia?” Tasha’s voice is uncertain, wavering as she calls out to my crashing through the underbrush.
“Yeah. It’s me.” I emerge into the clearing surrounding our refuge and look up at the sky. The stars are brilliant overhead, unchanging to my eyes despite the years. I stumble over a gnarled root exposed in the dirt and catch myself on the tree trunk.
My fingers close on the ladder’s rungs, and I start to haul myself up. It is harder now than six years ago, and I have little doubt that even six months from now it will be near impossible. My forehead is sweaty by the time I reach the platform, and I sort of wish I had gotten here first so Tasha doesn’t have to witness my lack of dexterity and grace. She is the gymnastics enthusiast.
Inside, even by the yellow cast of the light, Tasha looks pale. She’s sitting cross-legged with her phone resting on one thigh. An opened bag of store-bought popcorn lies in front of her. “Watch out for the board on the right. It has mostly rotted through. The rest seems stable enough except right by the tree trunk.” She watches me as I crawl over to sit beside her. “I wish we still had blankets and pillows out here. I don’t remember the floor being so hard before.”
“We were teenagers,” I remind her. “I hope I didn’t pull you away from Chris.” She had to work late at the gymnastics school where she works as a trainer and choreographer. Tasha had not been interested in rushing to her father’s work party when it would mean she could have a night with Chris instead.
She shakes her head, curls springing free around her face from their bun. “No. I had just gotten home and showered when you called. Besides, if you had something to say here,” she says while patting the floorboards, “it outranks getting laid or watching him work on old cars before we go snuggle on the couch and watch movies.” We’re silent for a few minutes, both of us waiting for something…anything… to break the tension. Tasha gives in first. “What’s wrong, Lia? Are you moving away again? Please not that!”
The lantern light gleams on her tears, and I pull her over into a hug. She sobs into my chest, shaking while she begs. “Anything but that. I just got you back, Lia. Please don’t go again!”
I rock us both side to side, biting my lip to stave off my own tears. “No. No. I’m not going anywhere.” Making shushing sounds, I smooth back her hair and rub Tasha’s back until she calms. “I’ll be right here. Well, probably not right here unless we do a serious overhaul on the treehouse. I don’t think it’ll hold both our asses for many more years.”