I collapsed onto the bed with a groan that was probably more dramatic than necessary. The mattress felt like heaven after hours on my feet. Sylvie climbed in beside me. I immediately pulled her close, fitting her body against mine in a way that had already become familiar, necessary.
I thought she would fall asleep immediately. We were both dead on our feet. But instead, she started talking, her voice animated despite the late hour.
“Did you see how happy everyone was?” she asked, propping herself up on one elbow to look at me. “Like, genuinely happy to be stuck here for the night instead of annoyed about it?”
“I saw,” I said, smiling at her enthusiasm even though my eyes wanted to close.
“And the way the kids were so excited about the unexpected sleepover? One little girl told me this was better than going home because now Santa would have to find her at the lodge, which made it extra special.” She laughed and shook her head. “That little girl has no idea how much her words meant to me.”
I ran my fingers through her hair, content to listen to her process the evening’s events. This was one of the things I loved about Sylvie. She found magic in small moments. Other people’s happiness genuinely mattered to her.
“And your pictures,” she continued, her green eyes sparkling even in the dim light. “I saw you taking all those photos and talking to guests. What were you doing?”
“Research,” I said simply. “Understanding what people actually value when they’re choosing a place to stay and whatcreates those memorable experiences that make them want to come back. I wanted to capture the authentic moments.”
“So you’re thinking about marketing?” she asked.
“I’m thinking about everything,” I admitted. “How we can improve the guest experience, what makes this place special versus other lodges, how we position ourselves in the market.” I paused, pulling her closer. “But mostly I was just documenting how incredible your family is at making people feel like they belong.”
She kissed me softly, a gentle press of her lips that conveyed more than words could. When she pulled back, her expression was more serious.
“What your father said,” she started, and my body tensed involuntarily. “About the trust fund. Are you really going to be okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” I said, meaning it. “I have my own savings, my investment portfolio. I’m not going to be destitute, Sylvie. I just won’t have access to family money anymore.”
“But that’s a huge change,” she pressed. “You’ve had that security your whole life.”
“And maybe that’s been part of the problem,” I said thoughtfully. “Having that safety net meant I never really had to commit to anything. I could afford to coast, to not care too much about success or failure because the money was always there regardless.”
I shifted so I could see her face more clearly in the darkness.
“Now? Now I have real skin in the game. The investment I made in this lodge isn’t just abstract numbers. It’s my future, our future. If this fails, I actually lose something significant. And weirdly, that feels better than having unlimited resources I didn’t earn.”
“You’re insane,” she said, but she was smiling. “Most people would be terrified.”
“I am terrified,” I admitted. “But I’m also more excited about life than I’ve ever been. Does that make sense?”
“It makes perfect sense,” she whispered, settling back against my chest.
We lay there in comfortable silence for a few minutes. I thought she’d finally fallen asleep. But then she spoke again, her voice drowsy but determined.
“I have so many ideas for improvements,” she murmured. “New packages we could offer, partnerships with local businesses, maybe even expanding to host weddings.”
I smiled into her hair. “Tell me tomorrow,” I said softly. “Right now, you need sleep.”
“But I’m so excited I can’t sleep,” she protested, even as I felt her body relaxing against mine.
“Try,” I urged, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “We have all the time in the world to plan the future.”
Within minutes, her breathing had evened out into the rhythm of sleep. I lay there holding her, listening to the wind howl outside and feeling more content than I could ever remember being.
Holding her like this felt perfect. Her hair tickled my chin, and every few minutes she’d make a small, contented sound that I loved. I was so tired, and I wanted to sleep. I knew I needed to sleep.
But my mind wouldn’t shut off.
In the quiet darkness, with nothing but the distant sound of wind through the trees, my thoughts kept circling back to the same questions that had been lurking at the edges of my consciousness all evening.
Had I walked away from everything because of the offer I had made? Because of the deal Harold and I had struck? Would Dad resent me forever, or was there a chance he would eventuallycome around? Was I as much of an outcast now as Austin had become when he’d chosen his own path over family loyalty?
