Page 60 of The Relationship Clause

“You like it?” I ask.

When she speaks again, her voice holds a note of wonder to it. “It’s beautiful. Kind of looks like it fell out of one of those Hallmark Christmas movies, only with a much bigger budget and without the Christmas.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, it does.”

“Wait, you know what kind of movies I’m talking about?” She turns to me, eyes wide. “Do you watch Hallmark Christmas movies?”

“I’ve seen a few in my life. Kiera loves them. ”

“Right, she loves anything holiday-related.” She turns away from me, and we’re back to silence. I want to do something to break this sound barrier between us, but anything I can think of would make me look crazy.

I’m seriously looking up “Twenty Icebreakers to Use on a First Date” when Junie gasps. “Oh my gosh, is that where we’re staying?”

Our driver turns onto the long, stately drive of a place that’s less of a quaint lodge and more of an enormous resort. A smile tugs at my lips. I’m going to love seeing her reactions to everything this weekend.

“Subtle, right?”

“Understatement of the century.”

“Yeah. My father insists on booking the most expensive rooms at the most expensive hotels. Trust me, the glamor gets old fast.”

She snorts. “Ha, sure. We’ll see about that. Your family comes here every year, right? Has it always been this way?”

“Not always. I remember staying in more modest places when I was younger, but the more money my parents started making, the more they wanted to spend. Plus, eventually, I realized that a perk of having a bigger hotel suite meant my parents had to spend less and less time actually in each other’s company.”

Junie turns to me, her beautiful, blue eyes holding sadness in them. “Oh, right. Kiera told me a little about that. I’m sorry. That must have been hard to grow up with.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice her fingers twitch, like maybe she’s trying not to reach out to me physically. Those walls around her are a little bit lower. It’s another small thing, but again, it gives me hope. “It was, but I’m alright. How was it growing up for you? Did your parents fight much?”

The walls shoot back up. She leans back, breaking eye contact and folding her arms over her chest. “Um, no. They didn’t.”

Interesting. I know I’ve heard her mention her dad, but has she ever talked about her mom? Maybe something happened to her. It’s another page in the mystery book that is Junie.

We wind down the drive to a waiting valet attendant dressed in a black suit with a red bowtie, a heavy yet fashionable wool overcoat, and white gloves. He opens the door for Junie first, so I step outside into a flurry of fluffy, white snowflakes barely beginning to fall from the sky.

Again, Junie gasps. It’s quickly becoming one of my top-five favorite sounds of all time. “It’s snowing!” Laughter bubbles up from her, and I add that to my favorite sounds as well. “It’s literally snowing right now.” She takes her phone out and starts snapping pictures.

I can’t help it. I slip my phone out and take a picture of her. I don’t even remember the last time I was this excited about snow, but Junie’s childlike delight is infectious. I want to capture it so I can remember this moment and this feeling forever.

“What?” she says, catching me staring. Her cheeks turn pink, and I snap another picture. “You know it hardly ever snows in South Carolina. This is a momentous occasion.”

“So you like it here, huh?”

She shrugs, feigning indifference. “It’s alright. Here, let me help you with those bags.”

But before she can get to them, I loop my arm through hers and start tugging her in the opposite direction, toward the giant lodge.

“Um, hello? What are we doing? The bags, the car. We can’t leave them there.”

“They’ll be taken care of,” I say, because I know they’ll be brought to our rooms without us having to even ask. “Come on, let’s go check in.”

Maybe this is the moment when I should let go of her arm, but I don’t. I keep tugging her along gently, relishing the feel of her, the way our steps fall into sync, and the sway of our bodies. We’re both wearing coats, but her warmth radiates through all the layers as if they aren’t even there. It’s so distracting, I barely notice the majestic entryway of the lodge or the clean, marble flooring accented by rich, dark wood pillars and arches.

Behind the front desk, a friendly woman takes our information and gets us checked in. After she hands us our cards, I move toward the elevator, but Junie gravitates toward a floor-to-ceiling window. She gazes outside as the snow falls in mesmerizing swirls, faster and heavier than before.

I maneuver to her side. It seems like the natural place to be. “It’s like we’re in a snowglobe,” she whispers.

“Have you ever seen this much snow before in real life?”

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