“I am not in love,” I counter, and then I see my mistake.
Tessa’s eyebrows rise. “Really? But you are getting married. So unlike you.”
Laughing, I correct myself. “I love her, just not in the way that you are thinking.”
Tessa sucks her bottom lip in. “What way is that, Romy?”
“She is my woman now, bro. Let it go.” Liam’s shoes appear in my view.
I rise, dusting my pants off. “She requested my help, and you were nowhere in sight.”
The fireplace crackles and spits out some embers.
“I’m heading outside,” I state.
It doesn’t take me long to step outside. It doesn’t matter that I grew up here; I always feel the shock of the cold when I step outside. That cold stings my cheeks and makes my nose feel like it wants to bleed.
Walking past the family group in coordinated winter wear with their instructors, I go to the counter and grab a snowboard. One of the staff members walks around, offering hot cocoa.
The air is heavy with the smell of mulled wine, cloves, oranges, and cinnamon.
I walk down to the small slopes, looking for the girls. But they aren’t there.
“Shit,” I whisper to myself.
“There are on slope three.” My father’s voice comes from behind me. Twisting, I see my mom and him sitting with clear glass mugs in their hands.
Dread flows through me. “Noelle doesn’t ski. She is from the Caribbean.”
My mom shrugs. “Well, from what I saw, she can handle herself.”
“What are you both drinking? Eggnog?” I ask, looking at the milk-like liquid.
“Eggnog? My dear boy, we are never drinking that again.” My mom chuckles behind the cup as she brings it to her lips.
“It’s theponche crèmethat your woman made,” my father replies. My woman…more like Nicholas’ woman. I don’t make her laugh the way he did this morning.
“It looks like we are in for a storm this evening.” My mom sniffs the air.
“You can take the girl out of the country, but not the country out of the girl.”
She blushes. “You want to put something in this country girl?”
I shake my head. “Later.” Walking to the ski lift, I wait patiently for the lift to come my way.
The lift operator signals me to sit, and then I am locked in. If I weren’t so miserable, I would see how beautiful the trees look dusted and covered in snow, or how the snow blankets the ground. But no. Now, all I can think of is damn Nicholas, and well, the Italian ski instructor. Stupid instructor.You look pretty; where are you from? Take my arm.Why was he holding Noelle’s hand at the crook of his arm?
The lift stops. I lift the guard bar, grabbing my snowboard.
I hear her laughing before I see her.
My eyes find her, and I am even more angry than before.
The taller of the two instructors is holding her fucking waist.
I clear my throat, and the four of them look at me. No one says anything, and this man’s hand is still on her fucking waist.
Don’t be an asshole, Roman. Don’t be an asshole.
