She thinks I'm pulling away because I don't want her. Because she wasn't enough. Because the warming hut was a mistake.
And that's the furthest thing from the truth.
Devon finds me after dinner, fury in his eyes. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Staying professional."
"You're breaking her heart." He gets in my face. "That woman is amazing. She's into you. You're into her. And you're throwing it away because of what? Kelly made you nervous? You're scared of the age gap?"
"She deserves better than—"
"Don't." Devon cuts me off. "Don't decide what she deserves without asking her. She's not a child, Nick. She's a grown woman who chose you. And you're taking that choice away from her."
He's right. God, he's right.
I focused on all the reasons this won't work that I haven't considered the one reason it will: we want it to.
"She leaves tomorrow,” Devon says. "If you're going to fix this, fix it now."
I don't sleep. By the time the sun rises on the last day of the retreat, I've made my decision.
Screw the optics, Kelly's concerns, and my own fears.
I want Daria. And she deserves to hear that.
I check the slopes, looking for her. She's not at breakfast. Not at the equipment shed. Finally, I spot her heading toward the intermediate run alone, shoulders set with determination.
I follow.
She's standing at the top of the run, looking out at the valley. The morning sun lights her hair, and she's so beautiful it hurts.
"Daria."
She spins, eyes going wide. Then her expression shutters, and I watch her shut down in front of me. "Nick."
"I need to talk to you."
"I think Kelly already covered everything." Her voice is cold, defensive. "Professional boundaries. No fraternizing. I get it."
"No, you don't."
"Then explain it to me." She crosses her arms. "Explain why you spent all that time avoiding me. Why did you look at me yesterday like I was a stranger? Why did you make me feel like what happened was a mistake?"
"It wasn't a mistake. God, Daria, it was the furthest thing from a mistake."
"Then why?"
"Because I'm scared." The admission cracks something open. "Kelly warned me about the age gap and professionalism and all the ways this could go wrong. You're twenty-three with your whole life ahead of you, and I'm thirty-five and stuck here teaching ski lessons. I'm terrified I'll hold you back or you'll regret me or—"
"Stop." She holds up a hand. "Stop deciding what's best for me without asking me."
Her voice is shaking but strong. Stronger than I've ever heard it.
"I'm not a child, Nick. I know there's an age gap. I know we live in different cities. I know this is complicated." She steps closer. "But for once in my life, someone saw me. Really saw me. Made me feel like I was worth something. And you're going to take that away because you're scared?"
"I'm terrified," I admit. "What if I hold you back? You wake up in five years and regret—"
"What if we have five amazing years?" She's right in front of me now, eyes blazing. "What if we have fifty? The only regret is not trying."
