I tugged on ski pants and snow boots I found in the mudroom, traded my wool coat for a ski jacket, and rummaged through a bin for a warm hat, scarf, and mittens. Tucking my phone and the cabin keys into one pocket, I set out, inhaling deep breaths of fresh cold air, watching snowflakes on my tongue. It was so quiet—all I could hear was wind through the trees, birds singing, and the crunch of snow beneath my feet.
But I couldn’t find peace or inspiration. Both eluded me as I walked, pausing only when I came to the tire swing that still hung from a tree not far from the house. I gave it a push and watched it sway back and forth, but I didn’t get on it. Instead I imagined a little boy clinging to the tire…a beautiful little brown-eyed boy trying to escape what was going on inside his house. My throat tightened.
Had I been too hard on him? He’d had a rough start in life. I wished he’d been more open with me about it, but he’d only seemed willing to talk about his brother’s issues. Maybe if he’d shared some of his own experiences or feelings with me, I’d understand him better.
Sighing, I walked back to the house, giving my easel a sad glance before grabbing my car keys. I didn’t feel inspired enough to paint, so I might as well go get some groceries for the next few days.
The next seventy-two hours loomed long and lonely in front of me.
* * *
Snow was falling even heavier now, and the roads were worse. It was dark when I finally got back from the store, and I was chilled to the bone. I put on a pot of sweet potato chili, and while it was simmering, I took a long, hot shower and put on my flannel pajamas. That was one good thing about being up here—I could lie around in comfy pants all day.
I was just cozying up on the couch with my Kindle and a soft blanket when I heard a knock on the front door.
What the hell? Who could that be?
Warily I approached the entrance and peeked through one of the windows that flanked the big wooden door. It was dark outside, but motion sensors had triggered the porch light.
It was Theo.
Immediately a battle broke out inside me, one side clamoring to let him in and hear him out, the other desperate to defend its uncompromising position.
He looks so good! And it’s so cold and snowy out there, and he drove all this way to find you!
Who cares about how he looks! He uses his hotness as a weapon—don’t be fooled! He can probably melt snow with one glance.
I backed away from the window, but not before he saw me.
“Claire,” he shouted through the door. “Please let me in.”
“No!” I crossed my arms. “Why should I?”
“I drove eight hours through a blizzard to talk to you.”
“Then you wasted your time. How did you even find me?”
“I called your mom’s house.”
My jaw dropped and I yanked the door open. Snow swirled in on a frigid gust on wind. “You did what?”
“Thank God. It’s fucking freezing out there.” He pushed the door shut behind him and inhaled. “Jesus Christ, it smells so good in here. And it’s so warm, and you’re so beautiful.”
I would not be swayed by flattery. But since my heart did not appear to get the message and was beating madly, I stepped back, crossing my arms over my chest again. No entry. “You called my mother?”
“I had to. To get the address of this place.”
“And she gave it to you?” I rolled my eyes. “Thanks, Mom! Scold me about locking my doors but give out my location to a virtual stranger!”
“But I’m not a stranger. I’m your boyfriend, remember? And you were so disappointed that I had to meet you at the cabin instead of drive with you because of a last-minute business trip to Chicago, so I wanted to send you flowers to make it up to you before I arrived.” He took a step toward me, and I put out my hands.
“Stay right there.”
“OK.” He stopped moving and just looked at me. “I missed you.”
“I can’t believe my mother fell for that.”
His mouth hooked up on one side. “I’m very charming when I want to be.”
“It’s not charm, it’s lies. And it won’t work on me anymore.” Although that crooked smile had my stomach fluttering. “I was playing the game by your rules, and you stomped all over me.”
His smile fell away, replaced by a grave expression. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t even want to play that game.”
“I know.”
“So if you’re here just to ask me to play another round of sex-without-expectations, the answer is no.”
“I’m not. I want more.”
“You do?” I blinked. Was this for real?
“Yes.”
I stood there, momentarily struck dumb. I had no idea what to do.
“Can I come closer?” he asked.
“I guess,” I said cautiously, twisting my fingers together at my waist.
He closed the distance between us until we were nearly chest to chest. His eyes were sincere, his tone solemn. “I’m sorry I walked out like that the last time I saw you. I never should have treated you that way.”
“Why did you?”
“Because I panicked. I’d convinced myself that what we were doing was just a temporary thing—I wasn’t going to stay in your life. That meant I didn’t have to tell you things about myself I don’t like sharing.”
“Like what?” I gasped. “Oh God, you have a wife.”