“I understand,” he said. He squeezed her leg again, and they began the ascent up the gravel road toward their destination.
In a clearing the size of a football field, a cabin made of aged wood sprouted up from the hilltop, culminating at an imposing, pointed peak. The entire front and back of the cabin, in a typical A-frame and adorned with the standard materials, were eighty percent windows. The windows’ privacy treatment was obvious, reflecting the ferns, sky, and long grass of the surrounding property.
Cierra hopped out of the passenger door and went to grab her bags, but Julian had already beaten her to the trunk.
“I got it, babe. Your job this weekend is to relax. What do you think?”
Cierra spun slowly around on her heels, taking in the foliage’s smell, the warmth of the sun hitting her skin, and the noise. Rather, the lack of noise. In Manhattan, there was always something blaring in the background. Sirens, cars, screaming, construction. But here, there was nothing but the mountains. For Cierra, it was like listening to a song without the bass or drums, leaving the melody exposed.
“It’s better than I could have expected,” she murmured. “I don’t know why you ever leave.”
“There’s someone very important to me in the city,” he replied. That was yet another worry: What would become of them if she moved?
Cierra walked over to Julian and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his chest. He placed a kiss on the top of her head.
“I’m glad you like it. Wanna go inside?”
She widened her brown eyes and nodded her head emphatically, running to the porch. She opened the wooden door to the mountain get-away and gasped.
Instinctively, Cierra went straight to the kitchen. It had an open lay-out, with black granite countertops and a hanging baker’s rack filled with metallic, vintage-looking pots and pans in various shades of silver and copper and even a few cast iron skillets. They hadn’t fully discussed what they were planning on doing for food, but on the car ride, they’d spotted a few markets and still had time to make it before they closed. There were also a few nearby restaurants, but when Cierra opened the fridge door, she was greeted with a fresh grocery haul.
“I had my housekeeper grab some basics,” Julian said happily. “Obviously, this is a getaway weekend, and I was thinking I could cook foryouthis time around.”
“Julian . . . this is so . . .” Before she could say anything else, he embraced her from behind. One of his hands slid under her shirt, roaming upward, while he lightly bit her ear.
“Can I show you the upstairs before dinner?”
Her cheeks flushed, with a wide smile on her face as she turned to him. Julian scooped her up and carried her fireman-style up the stairs. Cierra squealed and laughed as she got a view of the living area upside down.
The upstairs was like a cove, with a spacious bedroom and ensuite bathroom, making it feel like their own alpine world. Here, in this cocoon, the worries of whether she’d get accepted tothe show melted away. She fantasized about what life could look like with Julian full-time: making breakfast, going on swims in a nearby river. Then, memories of Erik flooded into her mind: cooking alongside her in Mexico, splashing around the pool in the Catskills, brief glances on slow mornings while he sat near the kitchen island as she meal-prepped.
Pulling her away from her thinking, she looked up at Julian from where he’d softly placed her on the bed, ignoring the gnawing questions beginning to surface. She’d made the right choice, end of story. She was happy. Julian was everything she ever wanted, and she wasn’t going to let any distractions get in the way.
So why couldn’t she help but wonder: if she was falling in love with Julian as she purported to be, then why did her heart ache at the thought of being away from another man?
Cierra awoke to the sounds of bird calls, nestled against Julian. He was softly snoring, and his arms temporarily tightened around her waist when they sensed her movements. She could feel the warmth of his skin and the light tickle of his chest hairs against her bare back, and knew that she could wake up this way, exactly, for the rest of her life. The clock on the wall alerted her it was still fairly early, seven thirty, but the soft light coming in through the windows was calling to her. Plus, she was dying for caffeine.
“I’m gonna go downstairs and make some coffee, no need to get up,” she murmured to Julian, who lazily smiled with his eyes still closed, muttering something incomprehensible but agreeable in tone.
She rinsed off the sweat from the previous night in a quick shower and threw on a peach-colored linen set and sandals before exploring the house on her own. They had barely made it through dinner before racing back upstairs the prior evening, soshe hadn’t appreciated the level of thought that had clearly gone into the interior design.
There wasn’t a taxidermy head or a plaid quilt in sight. This place wasexquisiteand had obviously benefitted from a woman’s touch. It was hard to imagine that, not even a year ago, he might have been having a very similar weekend with his ex-wife.
Slowly making her way to the refrigerator, she remembered what Mia had told her about getting some fun video footage. She checked her email, just in case, but the only new messages were from a few clothing brands, alerting her of new drops. NoPlatedupdates. With the wind out of her sails, she put her phone in her pocket and reoriented her attention to an issue that was more pressing: coffee.
After rummaging through some of the cupboards, she found the mugs and a tin of velvety espresso grounds. She made herself a steaming cup before letting herself out the front door and walked in a circular path around the house. First, she photographed a stunning view of the home, reflecting the bright summer morning in all its glory. Then she continued walking in a clockwise direction, noticing some old bikes left to the side of the house. Onward, she saw the back of the home, which was extensive and even had its own garden. Taking off her shoes, she wandered over to a dirt patch, which was guarded by garden fencing, and saw flowering vegetable plants — even ripening watermelons, which she was definitely going to be enjoying later. Quickly, she noted on her phone to check if they had any limes or fresh mint in the house. Many of her younger followers asked for summer drink recipes, and this would be perfect as a refresher, or could even become a cocktail.
She whipped out her phone and took short videos of the quaint garden, the old bikes, the house, even a close-up of a blanket flower with a deep red interior and yellow-gold petaltips. It was trickier getting into the garden, but she managed a quick face-to-camera shot with her holding one of the massive melons, its green stripes contrasting perfectly against the peachy coral tones of her shirt.
Virtually interacting with new people and having a more communal approach with her recipes gave Cierra a sense of purpose she hadn’t known was missing. When she’d first started making the videos, it felt like a chore, a necessary evil only serving as a means to her new pursuits. Now, it felt like just as much of a creative outlet as it did a business strategy. A year ago, during the summer, she had been getting heat rash in a stuffy kitchen. Now, she was playing in the dirt and laughing with a piece of fruit. And in a cheesy way, while the content she madewascurated, it wasn’t on behalf of someone else. It washer.That’s what people connected with.
When she got back to the house, Julian was shirtless in a pair of light blue sweatpants, sipping from a clay mug.
“This coffee is great, Cee. What did you do?”
“Just added some cinnamon, the usual.”
He walked over and wrapped his arms around her, perching his head on top of hers. “Nothing is usual with you. Thanks for letting me sleep in by the way, didn’t realize how much I needed it.”
