Nothing.
I stared at each word, trying to decode hidden meaning from his familiar handwriting—still the same cramped scrawl that had signed thirty-two years’ worth of anniversary cards and grocery lists and excuse notes for school.
Had to run out where?
The hurt that bloomed in my chest was as familiar as it was unwelcome. The worst part? I couldn’t even pretend to be surprised. It was what we’d always done—circled each other in an endless dance of almosts and not-quites, getting close enough to remember why we’d fallen in love before pulling back and rebuilding our walls even higher.
Whatever softness had existed between us last night had evaporated with the storm, leaving behind an empty kitchen and a note that might as well have been signed by a stranger.
I mashed the button on the coffee maker, staring blankly out the window above the sink while the machine burbled to life. Outside, the world had been transformed by feet of blinding white snow, remindingme of the snow globes Levi once collected. Everything pristine. Perfect. Beautiful…if you didn’t think too hard about being sealed inside it.
Before I could spiral too far into old resentments, my phone buzzed to life on the counter where it had been left to charge last night.
Teddy’s mother’s name flashed across the screen, and I groaned, wishing I could ignore it. But Lucy had raised four boys and could smell avoidance from two states away. If I didn’t answer, she’d reach out to Addie and Sky, and I was nowhere near ready to face their line of questioning.
I scrambled to clear my throat, forcing brightness into my voice as I answered. “Hey, good morning!”
“Good morning, sweetheart.” Her voice wrapped around me like one of her famous hugs. “Girls said you made it there in the nick of time. Just wanted to check in, see how you’re holding up. We’ve been watching the weather channel, and it just looks awful. Lord knows Paul and I worry about you kids up there in all that snow.”
Kids.
As if Teddy and I were still the teenagers she’d busted going at it on the pool table in their basement.
“I’m… good,” I said, which was true if ‘good’ meant ‘I crashed my rental into a tree, spent the night pressed against your son like a barnacle, and woke up to a note that suggested he’d rather brave a blizzard than stay in the same room with me.’ “I think the worst of it passed through overnight.”
“I’ve been trying to reach Teddy all morning to check in, but you know how he is.”
I did. The man would rather perform his own root canal than have an actual conversation, phone or otherwise.
“Hope he hasn’t left you to fend for yourself,” she added, as subtle as a freight train.
“Oh, no,” I said quickly, willing the coffee maker to brew faster. “I’m, uh, I’m actually riding it out at his place.”
“Good, good. Well, put him on.” The hopeful lift in her voice sent a pang of guilt through my chest.
“He’s actually outside,” I said quickly, the lie rolling off my tonguebefore I could stop it. “The drifts are pretty high, and he wanted to get them cleared.”
“In this weather?” Paul’s gravel-rough voice cut through the speaker, and I could practically see his and Lucy’s eyes narrowing the way they did anytime one of their boys tried to pull something over on them. “That boy never did have the sense God gave a goose. I hope you’re keeping him in line.”
“Trying to,” I managed with a weak laugh. I hadn’t been able to keep their son in line when we were married. The chances of doing it now were somewhere between zero and when hell froze over—which, given the view outside, might have happened.
“Well, I’m just glad you two are getting a chance to reconnect,” Lucy chimed in, like Teddy and I were star-crossed lovers in a romance novel instead of two people who’d signed divorce papers in separate rooms because we couldn’t stand to look at each other.
“We’re not,” I started, then stopped, aware my former mother-in-law’s bullshit detector was top of the line.
The coffee maker sputtered its last drops into the carafe, giving me something to focus on besides the fact that our families continued to treat our split as if it were a phase or a break, convinced we’d come to our senses eventually.
I poured myself a cup with shaking hands, adding a splash of the oat milk creamer I’d managed to snag during the pre-storm frenzy at the store while Paul rumbled something in the background about meddling.
She shushed him before continuing. “I’m just saying, Christmas has a way of working things out. And a blizzard forcing you two together? Sounds like a sign to me.”
“Lucy,” I warned, but it was too late. She was already off to the races, convinced she could fix whatever had broken between us with a few words of wisdom and a little holiday magic.
“What? You two were always better together than on your own. Whatever happened, whatever drove you two apart—it doesn’t have to be permanent. People who love each other the way you two do find their way back. Sometimes they just need a little push.”
Or a full-on shove off a cliff, apparently, which was what this felt like.
“It’s not that easy,” I protested weakly.
