Page 51 of From the Ground Up

I love it even more that you’re willing to be a goober with me.

I love that when I get a wild hair up my ass and decide I’m going to learn something new, you embrace it and laugh at me as well as with me when I’m a fumbling kickboxing disaster.

I love that you let me cry when I need to.

I love that you have to wake up every morning to giving me a kiss on your place.

I love that you grow a beard when I want to see your scruff.

I love that sometimes I catch you staring at me.

I love that you dance with me even when I know you hate dancing.

I love that you protect our daughters with incredible passion.

I love that you don’t kiss my ass.

I love that you let me eat chocolate cake in our bed.

I love that you want to take selfies of us together.

I love that you make me laugh every single day.

I love that you embrace our text fumbles.

I love that you still jam to our 80s music.

But most of all…

I love being yours.

There’s not a single person on this earth who I’d rather do life with.

You have my heart forever.

We fumbled.

We picked ourselves back up.

xoxo

Your pretty girl

Well, damn. I actually have tears in my eyes. And a few may or may not have escaped.

I take a deep breath and let it out and sip at my coffee. I stand up and walk over to look out the large picture window in the living area. All we see behind us is woods. Much like our own home, but it’s even denser here. Flurries are coming down from the grey sky. It’s weird that just a few days ago it was raining, and now it’s turning so cold that it’s snowing. It makes me itch for Tess to be back here. I trust her driving in the snow, but it still doesn’t make me feel any less nervous to have her out there in it.

I walk back over to the table and pick up the note she wrote me, straight from her heart to mine. I read it again and once more. Then I start to tear the paper off the box.

A basket is placed inside filled to overflowing.

First I see a soft-book photo album. The note attached to it reads:

The special times meant just for me and you

What I see inside makes my pulse race. It’s full of pictures we’ve taken of each other in random times that I thought we had long since deleted. But more than that, there’s a whole section of pictures I’ve never seen before. Seems my little minx had some boudoir pictures taken without my knowledge. Pictures of her in just a sexy bra and panties with my tool belt around her waist. Some in one of my button-down shirts, open and barely revealing some of my favorite fun parts of hers to play with. Her eyes are dark and smoky and her lips light pink and glistening. Her hair is all curls. I can’t help but feel a little cheated that I didn’t get to be there for those pictures. Although, I’m pretty sure if I had been standing in that room the photographer (who had damn sure better been a female) would have gotten an eye-full.

I start going through the contents of the rest of the basket. One of the corniest T-shirts I’ve ever seen, but I’ll wear it loud and proud, is rolled up in one of the corners. It’s a dark grey, short-sleeve shirt with black letters. She saw it at a novelty shop last Christmas and joked that she was going to get it for me. Apparently, she followed through.