And I'm so aware of how invested I've become that I'm almost ready to admit it.
To her?
Maybe.
Not without the mulled wine, I don't have time to drink.
With the race cancellation, the hotel's kicking us out.They've already lost enough money on Crans Montana this weekend.They don't want to spend a cent more on us.
But that's how it is.Skiing is an outdoor sport.
And the mountains rarely play along.
I find her in the lobby, a bag over her shoulder, headed to the van.
"May I help you?"I ask and take the bag from her.
Gallant of me.
But stupid.I can't carry hers and mine anyway.
"I'm okay," she says, taking the bag back."Didn't pack my ball gown.It's not that heavy."
I don't protest, but I take her hand.
Not in a lover's way, just friendly.
So I can lead her out of sight.I don't want to make a show.
"Merry Christmas," I say, and hand her my present.
"You got me a present?"she says."Thomas, that's embarrassing.I don't have anything for you."
"Eh, it's just a dumb thing.Don't fret."
She opens the package…and stares wide-eyed at the signed poster.
"I still owed you, right?"
"Well, Thomas… thank you."
"But this is the real thing," I say, handing her a little velvet bag.
Inside are earrings, delicate, silver, shaped like wine glasses.I'd spotted them at the reception desk in Beaver Creek.
They were just so… her.
"Thank you," she breathes.And for a moment, I swear she thinks about kissing me.
Then changes her mind.
Too bad.
Maybe next time.
"Merry Christmas, Thomas," she says.
And then we do the most ridiculous thing in the universe.
