8. Shae
ELEVEN YEARS LATER
“ B ut it needs to be by the creek!”
“The creek floods, Finn. Remember what happened to your fort last spring?”
“That was totally different. And it’s not my fault the rain was so crazy. Mom said it was the worst storm in like fifty years!”
“I don’t care about your stupid flood. The maple tree spot is perfect and you’re just being stubborn because you never want to do anything I want to do!”
The sound of my children’s bickering draws me from the kitchen to find them squared off between the trees. Josie stands with her arms crossed, a scowl firmly in place, while Finn’s eyes hold that determined glint that reminds me so much of his father. The great treehouse debate rages on, day three.
Julian leans against the deck railing beside me, hiding his smile behind his coffee mug. “How long do you think they can keep this up?”
“Given that they’re our kids?” I accept the second mug he offers me. “We could be here all summer.”
A warm breeze rustles through the maple leaves overhead, carrying the sweet scent of the mountain. The morning sun turns the new growth a vibrant green, almost too bright to look at. Near the old boundary boulder—now decorated with the kids’ chalk masterpieces—tiny purple wildflowers push through the grass.
Josie throws her hands up in exasperation. “This is ridiculous. There’s so much space here. Why can’t we each just have our own treehouse?”
Julian and I exchange a look. We’ve had variations of this conversation before, about everything from playrooms to reading nooks to craft tables.
“Because,” Julian says, setting his coffee down, “sharing space teaches you important things. Like compromise. And consideration. And?—”
“How not to murder your brother?” Josie mutters.
Julian steps off the deck. “Hey Finn, what do you say we do some more exploring? Maybe we missed something on our last walk-through.”
Finn perks up. “Can we bring the blueprint I drew?”
“Absolutely.” Julian grins. “Meet you ladies back here in twenty?”
I nod, and they head off toward the creek, Finn already listing the exact specifications he envisions for the future treehouse. When they disappear into the trees, Josie slumps onto the deck steps beside me.
“He’s impossible.” She picks at a loose thread on her shorts. “You’re so lucky you never had to deal with annoying brothers.”
“No, but I did have to deal with an annoying neighbor once.”
She looks up at me. “Who?”
“Your dad.”
Her eyes go wide. “But you and Dad are perfect together.”
“Of course I love him now. Very, very much. But back then, I wanted nothing to do with him. Or his loud construction crew. Or the way he built his house closer to my side of the property than I wanted.”
“But you love this house.” Josie’s brow furrows. “And you love Dad. You’re saying you didn’t even like him at first?”
“We started as neighbors who could barely speak to each other. Then we got stuck together during a snowstorm. I hurt my foot, and he took care of me. Made me dinner. Let me stay warm by his fire.” I smile at the memory. “Turned out he wasn’t as annoying as I thought.”
Josie considers this, her expression serious. “And you’re saying that one day Finn won’t be so annoying either?”
“I’m saying that sometimes the people who drive us the most crazy end up being the ones we care about most.”
Josie wrinkles her nose. “You want me to marry Finn?”
“What? No!” I burst out laughing. “He’s your brother.”
“Good.” She shudders dramatically. “Because that would be super gross.”
“I just meant that siblings often become good friends as they get older.”
“I guess.” Josie leans against my shoulder. “But Finn better stop being so stubborn about this treehouse.”
“Want to know a secret?” I wrap my arm around her. “Your dad was just as determined about where to build his house. But in the end, I’m glad he built it exactly where he did.”
“Because you fell in love with him?”
“Because it turned out he knew what he was doing. Just like I have a feeling you and Finn will figure out the perfect spot for your treehouse.” I press a kiss to her hair. “That is, when you’re ready to listen to each other.”
Josie and I sit in comfortable silence for a while, watching a pair of bluebirds flit between the trees. When I hear voices approaching through the woods, I look up to see Julian and Finn returning. There’s something different about Finn’s posture now, his earlier frustration replaced by barely contained excitement.
“We have a proposal,” Julian announces, winking at me over our son’s head.
Finn clears his throat and straightens up, clutching his blueprint. “After careful consideration of various factors?—”
“Finn.” Julian’s voice carries a gentle reminder.
“Right. Sorry.” Finn takes a breath and starts again, this time sounding more like himself. “What if we built the treehouse where the three maples grow really close together? The ones past the fallen log?”
I know the spot immediately. It’s almost exactly between the creek and the maple tree spot Josie wanted—the perfect middle ground.
Josie frowns. “But that’s not?—”
“Let me finish?” Finn bounces on his toes. “The trees make this triangle, see? So we could build the main part in the biggest tree, but then have rope bridges to platforms in the other trees. One platform could face the creek for my spy missions, and the other could have the mountain view you want.”
Josie sits up straighter, but her expression remains carefully neutral. “How big would the platforms be?”
“Big enough for your reading bean bag on one, and my telescope on the other.”
A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, but she presses her lips together. “I need to think about it.”
“Okay.” Finn shifts his weight from foot to foot. “But do you maybe want to see the blueprint while you think?”
Josie stands and brushes off her shorts. “Maybe after dinner. I need to process the proposal first.”
This time I can’t hold back my laugh.
By late afternoon, the treehouse location remains officially undecided, but the way Josie keeps wandering over to study Finn’s blueprint tells me we’re making progress. When Julian suggests making his Grandma Rose’s pasta sauce for dinner, both kids practically race into the house.
I pause in the doorway, struck by one of those moments that still hits me sometimes—how this house, which I once viewed as the symbol of everything I didn’t want, has become the heart of our family. Through the trees, I can just make out my old cabin, now converted into a guest house. These days I still slip over there sometimes when I need an hour of perfect quiet, but I inevitably find myself drawn back home to the happy chaos of our family.
“No peeking, Mom!” Josie calls from the kitchen. “You can’t see the secret ingredient!”
“I promise to shield my eyes,” I say solemnly, following their voices to find Julian pulling ingredients from the cabinets while the kids hover nearby, treating the preparation of their great grandmother’s sauce like a sacred ritual.
They make a show of turning their backs to me when Julian reaches for the small jar of spices, even though I’ve known the secret ingredient since our first anniversary.
“Remember,” Finn whispers loudly, “Mom can never know.”
“Never ever,” Josie agrees, before dissolving into giggles.
I join them at the counter, starting on the garlic bread while Julian stirs the sauce. The kitchen fills with warmth and familiar scents as we work together, and I’m struck by how full my life has become. Tomorrow I’ll spend the afternoon bouncing between Josie’s dance studio and Finn’s baseball field, watching my kids chase their dreams in their own different ways. This weekend we’ll join our fellow mountain families—Courtney and Ryder, Jordana and Griffin, and Paige and Hawk—for our monthly cookout, all our kids running wild through the woods together while we catch up on life.
It took time to find this balance—the perfect mix of quiet mornings with my books, busy afternoons with the kids, and treasured evenings with our little mountain community. But watching my family move around the kitchen now, stealing tastes of sauce when they think Julian isn’t looking, I know every step of the journey was worth it, even the toughest ones.
“Sauce check!” Julian announces. He appears with a spoon, offering me a taste. “What’s the verdict, Mountain Mama?”
I accept the bite, and sure enough, the spoonful still tastes exactly like that first night during the snowstorm. “Perfect as always.”
After dinner, we settle into our usual spots in the great room. Finn and Josie sprawl on the floor beside the fireplace while I curl into my favorite corner of the couch, surrounded by the huge floor-to-ceiling bookshelves Julian surprised me with on our first anniversary. The kids are at that perfect age where they still want bedtime stories but compete to outdo each other with their dramatic readings.
Julian’s strong arm wraps around my shoulders as he settles beside me. While the kids trade off reading pages, arguing about proper dragon voice interpretation, I find myself stealing glances at Julian. It’s completely unfair how men just get more attractive with age—his hair is a touch darker now, and there are laugh lines around his eyes in a way that makes my stomach flutter like crazy. But am I complaining about having such a ridiculously hot husband? Not a chance.
When the kids’ voices start to fade with sleepiness, Julian declares it’s bedtime. They trudge upstairs after we give them lots of hugs and kisses, and their soft bickering about treehouse plans drifts down the stairs until a comfortable silence eventually settles over the house.
In the quiet, Julian’s fingers trace lazy patterns on my shoulder. “Hey, you know what I was thinking about today?”
“Hmm. How it would make my life so much easier if you learned to load the dishwasher properly?”
“No, smart ass.” He grins. “I was thinking about the night you came to my dinner party.”
“Mmm.” I slide my fingers along his arm. “I’ll never forget it, either. Especially the part where you got down on one knee and mimed a proposal to me.”
“Meanwhile, I was secretly in love with you.” His thumb traces my jawline. “I almost proposed for real that night after the first time we were together.”
“Julian.” My voice comes out breathy, vivid memories of that night blooming in my mind.
His eyes darken as he pulls me closer. “Come to bed with me?”
The way his hands settle on my hips sends fierce anticipation coursing through me. I already know how this night will unfold—how his touch will set my skin on fire, how he’ll spoil me over and over again, how he’ll make me come so hard I’ll barely be able to breathe. He always does.
We make our way upstairs, his hands never leaving my body. The moment our bedroom door closes, he presses me against it, his mouth finding mine. My body responds instantly to his touch, to the promise of pleasure I can feel in every kiss.
Eleven years ago, I thought I wanted perfect solitude. Instead, I found something far better: an incredible man who gives me space to breathe while never letting me feel alone. A family that makes noise worth cherishing. A life that keeps surprising me in all the best ways.
I love it all. Every single bit.