Page 107

Jason raised himself up on his elbow and looked out the window. “Well, look at that. Blue skies and sunshine.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling you.”

“It’s a sign, don’t you think?”

“A sign of what?”

“A brilliant new start.” His gaze slid to hers. “The past is behind us.”

She swallowed. “You don’t strike me as a man who believes in signs.”

“I like to keep an open mind. The weather is perfect.”

Perfect for what? For allowing the roads to be cleared? For allowing everyone to get on to their final destinations?

To her, it didn’t seem perfect. Right now, she would have been happy to stay snowed in for the rest of her life, cocooned like this.

But that wasn’t real, was it? That happened in dreams and books and other people’s letters to Santa.

She forced herself out of bed.

“It’s time to build a snowman. The children are already up. I heard them downstairs.” She picked up the sparkly dress and folded it carefully, ignoring the stab of sadness. A sparkly dress didn’t change reality. Nothing lasted forever; she knew that.

“You’re building a snowman in that? I’m never going to be able to concentrate.”

Yesterday she might have laughed, but now she could barely find a smile. “I’m returning it to Brooke. I should have hung it up yesterday but—”

“But we were focused on other things.”

The laughter was gone from his voice, replaced by something more serious.

She kept her back to him and dressed quickly. Not the sparkly dress, but her everyday, brightly coloured clothing that normally lifted her mood. Today her mood stayed right where it was. “I’ll see you outside when you’re ready.”

“Whoa. Wait a moment.” He gave his head a shake, trying to wake himself up. “We had about two hours’ sleep. I need a minute. Don’t run off, please. Talk to me, Izz.”

“It would be criminal to waste the snow and sunshine. Poppy has been hoping for this for days. And you did tell me that you’re a champion snowman maker.” She pulled on a thick sweater she’d borrowed from Brooke, her fingers fumbling and uncoordinated. “It’s time for you to make good on that boast.”

“Do you regret last night?”

His question derailed her. She paused with the sweater half over her body.

“No.” It was true. She had no regrets about what they’d shared in the soft darkness of the night, at least not right now. But later? When all this had faded to nothing but a steamy memory? When he finally made it to his rightful place with Jess and his family, and she returned to her cold, quiet apartment, would she regret it then? Or would she treasure the memory of that one night when, for a moment, her life had felt perfect? When she’d felt loved, cherished and special. She didn’t know and wasn’t sure she wanted to find out. “I don’t regret it. I’ll never regret it.” She tugged the sweater on properly and freed her hair.

“Then why are you running away?”

“I’m not running.” She found a shoe and jammed her foot into it.

“Are you sure? Because it seems to me that you can’t get out of this room fast enough. Which was exactly what happened in the summer. I’m taking it as a compliment.”

“A compliment?” She found the second shoe.

“Yes. You’re running because you’re scared, and the only reason you’d be scared is because you care. That’s the only explanation that makes sense. Strong feelings can be unsettling, particularly if you’re not used to allowing yourself to feel them.” He lifted himself up on his elbow, watching her. “You’re putting the wrong shoe on the wrong foot—that’s why it doesn’t fit.”

He was right. Her hands didn’t seem to be working properly, and her concentration was gone.

She switched the shoes round, her face flaming.

“I can be patient while you get used to the fact that you care,” he said. “Let me know when you’re ready to talk about it. I can wait.”