This was something altogether different. Sebastian hadn’t asked anything of her. He’d simply given. Offered. Without condition.
And that was what made her chest ache the most.
Because it meant something.
Because he meant something.
She let out a slow breath, watching as he turned away, casual and composed, as though he hadn’t just made her heart pound. He didn’t press her, didn’t chase her gaze, didn’t try to dazzle her with compliments or clever quips. He simply was.
Solid. Present.
He had a way of making the world shrink until it was just the two of them in a snowbound lodge with too much heat between them and not enough distance to cool it.
And Maddie, for once, didn’t want distance.
She wanted to savor this, this man who listened, who remembered, who didn’t treat her like a passing fancy but like a partner.
She raised her glass, barely a breath behind him, and whispered so low only the fire might’ve heard her: “To what we make of it.”
He smiled and turned and strode to the fireplace.
The quiet confidence of his movements drew her in, the set of his shoulders and the way his profile softened in the firelight. She watched as he crouched, picked up a few logs from the basket, and laid them carefully among the glowing coals, the air filling with the faintest hiss of sap.
“You didn’t answer,” she said, stepping closer, her glass still in hand.
He spoke without turning, his voice low and rich as the wine itself. “Some moments don’t need answers.”
The words held weight, as if something unspoken lingered just beneath them, but Maddie wasn’t ready to press. Instead, she sank back into her chair, her legs folding beneath her as the fire’s warmth enveloped her.
Sebastian, who had straightened to stoke the fire, turned just enough to catch her in that unguarded moment. He paused, the poker still in his hands, his expression unreadable in the half-light. But Maddie saw the way his gaze softened as it passed over her, lingering on her hair that caught the glow of the fire, the curve of her shoulders relaxed in the chair.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. And in the stillness, in the way the flames crackled and the wine glistened in their glasses, Maddie realized that sometimes, words weren’t needed at all. What was needed was closeness.
*
Sebastian leaned backin his chair, one ankle resting casually atop the opposite knee, as the flickering firelight painted warm shadows across his sharp features. Maddie sat opposite him, perched on the edge of her seat as though the world itself hinged on their conversation. Her nervous energy amused him, though hedared not admit it aloud. Instead, he offered her one of his impossibly charming smiles and said with a teasing lilt, “I don’t remember agreeing to a courtship.”
“You didn’t disagree, either,” she countered, and her eyes narrowed slightly, though he noticed the faint pink creeping up her cheeks.
“Do you do this often?” she asked, her voice carrying just enough accusation to make him chuckle.
“Courting?” he replied, and his lips pulled into a grin that was far too confident for someone under such scrutiny. “No. Why do you keep asking me these questions?”
“Because I just… can’t explain it,” Maddie said, her hands fluttering briefly before settling in her lap.
His brows lifted, intrigue sharpening his expression. He leaned forward slightly, studying her. “Explain what, exactly? That I like you? Why is that so impossible to comprehend?”
“It’s not… impossible,” she said, hesitating. “It’s just that it’s supposed to be difficult. Complicated. That’s why they write books about it.”
Sebastian tilted his head, genuinely entertained now. “Books?”
“Yes,” she said, a little defensively. “I have one. Well, ahem… I share it. I don’t actually own it. We all do.”
“By we all,” he said slowly, his grin widening, “are you referring to the Bible?”
“No!” she exclaimed, clearly flustered. Her hands twisted together in her lap. “I mean the handbook.”
That got him. “The handbook,” he repeated, his brow arching as he leaned back just enough to signify his intrigue.
