She nods, and I grab the throw blanket from the back of it before we settle onto the worn cushions together. She curls against my side like she was made to fit there, her head on my chest, one leg thrown over mine. At one point I never would've allowed myself to think that, because the only person I wanted by my side was my wife. It's surprising that I've been starting to think about what life looks like in the future. I pull the blanket over us, cocooning us in warmth.
For a long moment, we just lie there, listening to the fire crackle and the wind howl outside. My fingers trace idle patterns on her shoulder, and I feel her relax against me, her breathing evening out.
"That was..." she starts, then trails off.
"Yeah," I agree, because I know exactly what she means.
A soft thump announces Biscuits jumping onto the back of the couch. I crane my neck to look at him, and he stares back with those judgmental cat eyes, his tail swishing slowly back and forth.
"Your cat is glaring at me," I tell Paisley.
She laughs, the sound vibrating through both of us. "He's not my cat."
"He's turned into yours. He was never as affectionate with me as he has been with you," I admit to her.
She chuckles. "He's glaring at both of us. He's very proper. PDA offends his sensibilities."
"We're in our own cabin. How is this public?"
"Try explaining that to a cat."
Biscuits meows, a sharp sound that definitely seems like a reprimand, and I can't help but laugh. "Point taken, buddy."
Paisley shifts, adjusting so she can look up at me without moving too far from her spot against my chest. Her hair is wild, her lips still swollen from our kisses, and she's never looked more beautiful.
"No regrets?" she asks quietly.
"You don't have to ask me that. I know you're asking because I was married before you." I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, letting my hand linger on her cheek. "Not a single one. I don't have any regrets when it comes to you."
She smiles. "Good."
She settles back against me, and I tighten my arm around her, thinking about how dramatically my life has shifted in a few weeks. Before I got the call to go out to the field, I was alone in this cabin, content with my solitude, convinced I was fine on my own.
Now, with Paisley warm and soft in my arms, I can't imagine going back to that.
The snow is still falling outside, the storm still showing no signs of letting up.
I press a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her shampoo, and let myself imagine what our future looks like. Where she doesn't leave when the snow melts for good in the spring. Where we figure out how to make this work in the real world.
It's too soon for those thoughts. I know that. But I can't seem to stop them.
Paisley's breathing has slowed, deepened, and I realize she's falling asleep. I adjust the blanket to make sure she's fully covered, careful not to wake her.
Biscuits meows again, softer this time, and when I look at him, his expression seems less judgmental and more resigned.
"I'll take care of her," I whisper to the cat.
He blinks slowly at me, then curls up into a ball on the back of the couch, apparently satisfied with my promise.
Outside, the storm rages on. Inside, the fire crackles and pops, casting dancing shadows on the walls. And here on this couch, I hold a woman who's managed to turn my entire world upside down.
I should be scared. I should be pulling back, protecting my heart.
Instead, I pull her closer and let myself fall.
Fifteen
Paisley
