“Can’t think of anything,” she said breezily, even as a certain snow globe-loving part of her whispered,do they have any hot chocolate?
“All right, I’ll be right back.”
19
The next thingMonica saw was Josh striding across the parking lot below the window like a man on a mission. He disappeared into the swirling white chaos.
Minutes ticked by, and then he returned, emerging from the storm like a ghost, his parka zipped up around his face. He had a heavy-looking bag clutched to his chest.
Then his footsteps were on the stairs, and he burst through the door, snowflakes flinging off him in all directions. “All right,” he said, slightly out of breath, his gaze a little fierce as he locked on her face. “Got you some boots. You sure you’re up for this?”
“Movement is good for stiff muscles?” She shrugged. “I just want to try.”
“Then we will try.”
He bundled her up in one of his parkas, a wool beanie that he made her call atoque—“because that’s what it’s called in Canada, don’t be a brat”—and a pair of heavy duty gloves.
She tried very hard not to react to the warm tease of him telling her not to be a brat.
She failed, and was all warm and squirmy as they tromped down the stairs to the garage. He dug out two different kinds of snowshoes, then pushed the door open and she stepped out into the snow-covered parking lot.
The snow was still falling heavily, but Monica was dressed for it. Josh had done a good job outfitting her for a little adventure. She’d forgotten how much she loved being out in the snow.
Josh set the shoes down and knelt at her feet. “Have you ever worn these before?”
“First time.”
“It’s worth it to get the fit just right.” He explained what he was doing with the buckles, getting the fit just right. “How does that feel? Nice and secure?”
She wiggled her foot and the shoe moved with her. “Yep.”
He squeezed her calf. “Good.”
Then he stood up and quickly put the older pair on himself, and took a few steps. “Like this.”
She crunched forward. The snow had a bit of ice in it, but the webbed shoes cut through the top surface no problem. “Okay, got it.”
He grinned. “Let’s go see the lake.”
The windows on the top floor of the marina across the street glowed with warm light—they had a generator, too, Monica assumed—but the street lights were out, and it felt like they were all alone in this little pocket at the bottom of the hill.
Josh led the way, turning back every so often to check she was following his tracks. He crossed to the north side of the street in front of the garage, where there was an empty parking lot, and then across the snow-drift covered road that ran around the harbour.
“This is a beach in the summer,” Josh said.
Other than that brief explanation, the only sounds that broke the peaceful silence of the snow-covered night were the crunch of their snowshoes and, after they crossed the road and were closer to the lake, the faint splash of waves breaking on rocks.
As they walked, Monica savoured each chilly inhale of fresh air. Even though her legs were protesting the effort a bit, it felt like good work for them. And for the first time in days, she wasn’t thinking about her necessary divorce, or Amira’s wedding, or the complicating mess of getting into an accident. She was just enjoying the moment. And, she hated to admit, the quiet company of the man beside her.
If only everything had been different, this could have been their life.
Maybe they wouldn’t have lasted either way. But she regretted that she never had a chance to be his wife.
And then she slept through part of what might be the only ordinary day of their entire marriage.
Oh regret, she knew it so well. On many levels.
“You weren’t kidding about this being exercise.” She was properly out of breath.
