I sit on the blanket box as Sawyer grabs a picnic rug from the bag and lays it out on the wooden floor. Inside the rucksack is a flask and mugs and biscuits.
He gets more camping equipment from the bag and lights a small gas heater. The heat warms my face, reminding me of all the times I’d come here with Mum when we’d stay at the cabin in the winter months.
“Hot chocolate?” He lifts the flask and two tin camping mugs.
My eyes swell with happy tears as I nod. I want to crawl over to him and climb into his lap, kiss his cheek and bask in his warmth for doing this for me.
Hot cocoa wafts around the small wooden space and I inhale, soaking up the delicious aroma that takes me back to my childhood. We might be in the middle of a snowstorm with no contact with the outside world, but I’ve never felt more safe with Sawyer, and right now is probably the happiest I’ve been for a long time. With him, I can just be myself.
“Thank you.” I take the hot mug from him, holding it between my palms and letting it warm my hands. “For all of this.”
He shrugs a shoulder as though it’s nothing. “I had to do something.” He quirks a grin. “I haven’t got you a Christmas gift either.”
I lean over and swat his thigh as he kneels on the picnic rug, but I really just like to touch him and feel close to him. A shiver tingles my spine, making my body shudder.
“You warm enough?” He shuffles around, opens the blanket box and pulls out a few cushions and a crochet blanket. Stretching his legs out and leaning against the wall with acushion behind his back, he pats the other cushion at the side of him next to the heater. “I’ll keep you warm.”
With my drink in hand, I shift over to him and park my bottom on the pillow. His arm stretches around my back, cushioning me from the wooden surface of the wall. I lean my head against him, soaking up his scent, a mix of pine and something that’s just him. “This is nice.”
His thumb moves up and down my arm, the movement barely noticeable over my thick padded coat, but it’s there, and somehow I feel it in my stomach.
“Why have you never settled down?” I sip on my drink, waiting for him to answer. “I mean married or had kids. You know.”
He lets out a long sigh. “I told you, I don’t believe in marriage.”
I bristle in his arms. “How come?”
His large mitt runs over his face. “Because relationships don’t last. Sooner or later, someone leaves.”
“Not if you meet the right person. My parents?—”
“Your parents were made for each other, yes, but look how that ended. It almost broke your dad.” He removes his arm from around my back and reaches over to where he left his drink. “Thank god he had you to focus on.”
“So you never get attached for fear of getting hurt?” I sip my hot chocolate as it becomes clear why every relationship he’s ever had never lasted longer than a year.
He leans back against the wall with a groan. “What are you, a shrink now?”
“Just because your mother left, you think all women leave.”
Raising his mug, he nods to me with a chuckle. “You’ve missed your calling.”
“Stop making jokes. I’m serious.” I place my mug on the floor and turn sideways to face him. “Maybe if you let people in, theywouldn’t leave.” I’m not sure why I’m saying this. The last thing I want him to do is get married. I remember when he’d bring a woman round to the house for a drink with my parents. Seeing him with someone made me jealous as hell, but it also solidified the fact that he was off-limits.
I need that grounding now. I need to remember there’ll never be anything more between us, so I can stop fantasising about him and maybe move on.
“What about you, anyway? You can’t talk. I’ve never known you to have a boyfriend.” He grins again. “Or a girlfriend.”
He’s right. All this time, I’ve been guilty of not letting anyone in, but not because I’m scared of commitment. The realisation hits me in the face like a snowball. It’s because nobody was him.
10
ANGELICA
“I’ll put dinner on while you’re in the shower.” I flick my damp hair over my shoulder and roll up my pyjama sleeves.
“You’re going to cook?” He raises an eyebrow.
I swat his belly. “I’m more than capable of cooking. Besides, anyone can heat up a Tesco ready meal.” Opening the fridge, I slide out two portions of Tesco’s finest lamb hotpot. “What is it with you and ready meals, anyway? You bought enough here to see you through to New Years.”
