“Anytime, kitten.”
???
The snow is coming down in large flakes by the time we get back on the road, and the drive is slow going. We’re still an hour out from Llyn Lakes when I pull over into a roadside service area. The snow is heavy, and lying, and with no plows in sight. The highway has become too dangerous to continue. Lucy argues that I’m being overly cautious, but I refuse to take any chances with her or the baby.
There’s a small single-story motel in the rear east corner of the rest stop and we decide to get a room for the night.
“I’ll be right back,” I say, giving her a quick peck on the cheek and striding toward the lobby entrance.
A few minutes later I exit the office, room key in hand. As I approach the SUV it becomes apparent that Lucy is no longer inside. I pick up my pace, jogging over to the car and willing myself not to get alarmed.
Why would she get out?
Was she feeling sick?
Or something worse–
I stop the thought before it can take root. The snow is still falling and fluffy white flakes are quickly covering the windshield and roof. I round the vehicle, noticing a set of messy footsteps in the deepening snow. The sun has set and I glance anxiously around at the darkened parking lot before hurrying after her.
She’s fine, I reassure myself.
Or I try to.
Following Lucy’s trail towards the edge of the building I’m forced to pick my way slowly on the slushy path to avoid slipping. I come around the corner and am instantly struck in the chest by something large and dense. It explodes on impact, stealing my breath as the cold wet flakes cover my face and spill inside the neck of my jacket.
My cop instincts kick in and I drop to a fighting stance before I realize that it’s a snowball.
Only a snowball.
Lucy is there, standing just off the path near the tree line, and she throws her head back in a joyful cackle when she takes in my face.
“Bullseye!” she shouts, then proceeds to do a little dance, awkward and uncoordinated in the knee-high snow and her puffy maternity coat. It’s a real struggle to hold onto my fear–or the need to chastise her for scaring me–as I observe her thoroughly enjoying herself. She sticks out her tongue and does a slow spin, attempting to catch the falling snowflakes on the tip. There are just as many landing in her hair as her mouth, and it’s then that I realize she’s not wearing a hat. I glance down–orgloves. Her hands are pink and wet and concern flares again in my chest, though for another reason this time.
This woman will be the death of me.
I shake my head. “Not this again,” I mutter. She’ll catch a cold.
Lucy comes to an abrupt stop and those mischievous hazel eyes meet mine. “Again?”
“Yeah,again. What’s with you and frolicking without proper attire in extreme weather?!”
“It’s fun. You like my unpredictability,” she teases with a shrug. “In fact, youloveit.”
I’m still trying to bring my heart rate down, but …
“You’re right, I do.”
And I love you.
Now that I’ve admitted it to myself it’s an effort to keep the words in.
Another snowball whizzes past my ear and I decide to just go with it. Idolove it when she pushes me out of my comfort zone.
“Careful there, kitty-cat,” I warn, but she only purrs playfully. Lucy drops to her knees to gather more snow and I’m thankful for the soft cushioning of the deep drift beneath her.
I mirror her, crouching to the ground too. My jeans are instantly soaked, but I ignore it, digging my bare hands into the cold wetness to form my own snowball just as another comes flying toward my head. I duck and launch one back in her direction, hitting her on the shoulder.
She lets out an outraged squeal and I laugh.
