“I’ll do my best to look appropriately festive,” I promise, finding myself pleased at having made her laugh.
The car climbs higher into the mountains, the road winding through passages carved into the rock itself.I catch glimpses of Olivia’s face as she stares out the window, her expression a fascinating contradiction.There’s unmistakable delight in her eyes as she takes in the familiar landscape, but also a nervous energy in the way she taps her fingers against her thigh.
Snow blankets the landscape on either side, pristine and untouched.Icicles hang from bare branches, glittering in the midday sun like crystal chandeliers.
“It’s beautiful,” I finally comment, breaking the silence.
“Wait until you see Silverbell Hollow at Christmas.”Her voice softens with genuine affection.“Every lamppost has silver bells that chime when the wind blows.The town square has this massive tree—forty feet tall at least—and they hang thousands of ornaments on it.”
“You sound like you’ve missed it.”
“Parts of it.”She smiles, a warm, unguarded expression I’ve rarely seen before.“They do this thing called the Festival of Lights where everyone puts candles in paper bags all along Main Street.As a kid, I thought it was magical.”
“Was it hard?”I ask, keeping my eyes on the winding road.“Leaving all this behind for New York?”
She turns to me, surprise evident in her expression.“Why do you ask?”
“Just curious.You clearly love this place.”
She’s quiet for a moment, considering.“I love my hometown.Always have.But there was always this itch under my skin, you know?This feeling that I was meant for something more.”She looks back out at the landscape.“I wanted to build something of my own, prove I could make it somewhere bigger than a town of eight thousand people.”
“And is it what you dreamed of?Your life in New York?”
She looks at me, like she’s trying to figure out if this is some kind of test.“If I hadn’t met you, if you hadn’t taken a chance on me...”She hesitates.“I might not be as happy.I’ve learned a lot working for you—with you.”
“But you miss your family.”
“Of course I do.Ideally, I’d visit more than once a year, but—” She shrugs.“Life gets busy.”
I nod, satisfied with her answer.There’s more honesty in it than I expected.
“Then why did you stay with Chase for so long?”I ask, the question slipping out before I can stop it.“If you wanted to be in New York and he was here...”
She sighs, staring out at the trees.“I don’t know,” she finally admits.“We were together for so long that it just made sense.I thought eventually he’d want the same things I did.”
“Do you still have feelings for him?”
Her fingers fidget with the hem of her sweater.“It’s complicated.”
“Complicated how?”I press, keeping my tone neutral despite the unexpected irritation I feel at her answer.
“We were together since high school,” she says.“You don’t just switch those feelings off like a light.”I let that settle between us, the implications of it, and what it means for the days to come.
“The road gets steep just ahead,” she says, clearly uncomfortable with subject.“You should downshift.”
“I know how to drive in the mountains.”
“Of course you do,” she replies dryly.“Is there anything you don’t excel at?”
“Making small talk at parties.”
She snorts.“That’s true.You always look like you’re plotting an escape.”
“Not plotting.Executing.There’s a difference.”
“And what are you plotting or executing now?”she asks, eyeing me suspiciously.
I cast her a sideways glance.“Just focusing on the road.”
