I sucked in a deep breath.
Yeah. I was definitely going to be late that night. It was time to tap into my savings account . . . and hit the hardware store.
Me: The boys are spending the night out.
I sent the message the moment I saw the headlights of Till’s truck pull into our parking lot. Then I sprinted to the bedroom and counted to ten.
Me: Twice-baked potatoes. Check.
I sent him a picture of a plate filled with them and then counted to twenty as I settled onto the bed.
Me: Naked. Check.
I snapped a quick selfie of my breasts, making sure that Till’s favorite freckle had made it into the picture. Laughing, I pressed send.
Then I screamed at the top of my lungs as I saw his face lit by the glow of his phone outside our window.
“Fuuuck,” he groaned, still staring at the phone even as I freaked out on the other side of the glass.
“Shit! What are you doing?” I asked as I pried the window open.
“I’m saving that picture for my home screen.” He finally looked up at me.
“Why exactly are you doing it on a ladder?
“Oh, this? It’s nothing. Life was just feeling too real today. I wanted a little fantasy.” His gaze raked down my nude body. “And clearly, I’ve come to the right window.”
His eyes were playful, but it still concerned me that he was climbing through a second-story window.
“Till . . .” I started.
“So I have a theory.” He leaned on his elbows, popping his head through the opening. “That night when you pushed me out of your door, I had originally come in the window. So what if the life we have been living ever since then is like a fantasy within a fantasy?”
My stomach twisted.
“You have to admit. It’s been pretty amazing.” He smiled.
Something wasn’t right with him. I could feel it, and it scared me to death. I reached out to touch him, but he caught my hand in midair and pressed his lips to my palm.
“See, windows have never let me down before. And this might just be the biggest fantasy of them all. I needed every bit of help I could get tonight.” He placed a small, black box on the windowsill. “Marry me, Eliza.”
I sucked in a deep breath as tears flooded my eyes. Suddenly, I wasn’t sure whose fantasy we were in at all, because Till Page offering me forever had always been mine.
“Till . . .” I stared into his eyes. “Are you serious?”
“Completely. I love you, Doodle. Forever, remember?”
Fully naked, I launched myself at the window. Till was barely able to stay on the ladder as I assaulted his mouth. The ring, which I still hadn’t seen, fell to the floor—thankfully on the inside. My tongue rolled in his mouth as my hands threaded into his hair. With one arm secured around my waist, he deepened the kiss as he crawled all the way inside. My feet were lifted off the ground as he walked us to the bed. I dangled in his arms, but I had never in my life felt more grounded.
“Is that a yes?” he asked as he dropped me on the bed and tore the shirt over his head.
“I would have said yes at thirteen.” I dragged his mouth back down with the frenzied need to feel him again, but his mouth alone wasn’t enough. I remembered his words from all those years ago. “Take me. Claim me for forever, Till.”
With a growl, he stood off the bed and went to the window. Snagging the box off the floor, he said, “Not until you’re wearing my ring.”
Cracking the box open, he revealed a round diamond solitaire engagement ring. It was small and simple, nothing at all like the man who was proposing to me. It was, however, perfect.
He slid it onto my finger then let out a huge breath of relief.
“It’s gorgeous.” I rose to my knees, gliding my hands over his chiseled chest.
His eyes watched my ring finger slide over his skin. Mine watched his eyes heat.
“You’ve always been beautiful . . . but fuck, Eliza. You wearing my ring . . . marrying me . . . It’s unbelievable.” His eyes glistened with overwhelming emotion, but when I leaned forward to offer him a reassuring kiss, Till Page the man appeared.
His eyes grew dark. With one arm on the back of my neck, he swept my legs out from underneath me with the other. I landed on my back, and Till’s mouth went to work biting and nipping my neck. His hands made fast work of removing his pants, and within seconds, his was buried inside me.
“You’re gonna marry me,” he repeated as he drove inside me.
It wasn’t a question, but each time, I still answered, “Yes.”
After a while, his hand dived between us, forcing my orgasm before I could even try to fight it off—the orgasm, not his hand. Never his hand.
As I came calling his name, Till emptied inside me with his own reverent words.
“My wife.”