“Do you have other things to get done?”
“No. We can’t decorate until tomorrow.”
“So let’s do something before everyone else gets here and there’s no time for it.”
Her mouth twists briefly into a pretty pout, then she says, “Okay.”
“Great. Put on warm clothes.”
She shuts down her computer and digs around in her suitcase and goes into the bathroom to change.
She used to change in front of me.
I lean back in my chair, legs stretched out in front of me, and let my mouth settle into a glum line momentarily. It’s not just that I want to see her naked. Although I do. I always do. She’s beautiful. It’s just depressing how different things are between us now.
But that’s reality. I’m supposed to be moving on. Dating again. Ha.
Being together like this, so intimately but yet not intimately, is reminding me of what it was like when we were together. Up until things fell apart, we were good together. Better than good. I lived in a constant state of disbelief and elation and gratitude that Ayla had chosen me. That she lovedme. She was a goddess. Gorgeous, kind, smart. I worshipped her and would have happily cut myself open to donate an organ if she needed it.
But the one thing I couldn’t do for her meant the end of us.
I let out a long sigh and push up to my feet. I think I saw hot chocolate mix in a cupboard. Yes.
I’m just finishing my concoction when Ayla comes out of the bathroom wearing black leggings, a long-sleeved base layer, and thick socks.
I nod approvingly.
She shoots me a prickly look. “Is this okay?”
“Perfect.” They’re perfectly suitable for outdoor activity, so yeah. But, no. The tight clothes show off her shape. “I just have to use the bathroom.”
When I return, she’s got on her puffy jacket, hat, and boots, ready to go. I dress again and we set out into the snow. A few wispy white clouds now overlay the blue sky, but it’s still brilliant. The snow sparkles with a million tiny diamonds.
I lead the way back to the equipment shack and we get set up with snowshoes. I did this many times as a kid, so it’s easy for me to get the hang of how to walk in them, but Ayla keeps stepping on her own snowshoes and falling. I haul her out of the snow a few times and I’m glad she’s laughing. She’s a good sport and she can laugh at herself, and I loved that about her.
“Oh my God,” she gasps after the third fall. “I’m so uncoordinated. I swear I haven’t been drinking. Actually, that might help.”
I grin and reach into my jacket. I pull out a flask. “Here you go.”
Her eyes widen. “What’s in there?”
“Hot chocolate.”
I open it and hand it to her. She takes a cautious sip. Gives a little cough. “Okay, that’s more than hot chocolate.”
“I added a little rum.”
“You brought rum?”
“I sure did.”
She tries not to smile. “Nice.” She takes another swig and hands it back to me. I drink some, too.
We follow a different trail this time through the fluffy snow, pausing occasionally for hot-chocolate reinforcement. We descend into the ridge between Gray Ledge and Butler Mountain. Here, the wind howls through the ridge, turning the fluffy snow into a hard crust. Unfortunately, we don’t have spikes on our snowshoes and progress is challenging. I pause several times to check in with Ayla.
“This is hard work,” she puffs.
“Yeah. Let’s head that way.” I point. “We can go back up toward the summit. Apparently, there’s a ledge there with an amazing view.”
