Page 43 of The Lodge

“And he kissed me,” I say in a rush.

“Ahhhh, I knew it! I knew it. When are you seeing him again?”

“I have another ski lesson at five, but we’re also meeting up later tonight—he told me to wear something warm.”

“To do what?”

“I have no idea—it’s a surprise. But last night was, too, and he was just… really thoughtful.”

She sighs dreamily. “He sounds amazing, Alix, really. I can’t wait to meet him when I come visit!”

My stomach flips. Not that he isn’t introduction-worthy—he totally is.

But that’s what’s scary.

Right now, it feels like Tyler and I exist in a beautiful, sparkly snow globe. If our world were to tip upside down, it would only make thingsmorebeautiful, because that’s part of the design. I can’t bring my real life inside its safe glass wall without breaking it, though—and that could get messy, even painful.

“I promise I won’t say anything embarrassing!” Chloe goes on, misreading my silence.

“You’d better not,” I say, going along with it so I don’t have to admit the truth about how much it scares me to think about my worlds colliding.

She tells me a little more about the drama she’s having at work and about how she’s interviewing for a promotion tomorrow. Her work rival is also up for the promotion, but Chloe feels confident she has it in the bag—her boss specifically encouraged her to apply for the new position, which seems promising.

When we’re finally off the phone, I crack open my laptop to read over the chapters I wrote after talking to Sebastian.

In the process, my arm knocks into my honey nut latte, and not gently.

It’s a slow-motion disaster: what’s left of my latte sloshes right out of its mug, all over me—all down the front of my favorite long-sleeved fuchsia running shirt, even up into my hair—and all over my laptop’s keyboard. I didn’t think there was much honey nut latte left, but apparently I was wrong. It’severywhere.

“No,” I say urgently, under my breath. “No, no, no,noooo.”

As if telling it to stop will magically keep it from seeping into every crevice.

I can’t afford a new laptop right now.

And I can’t affordnotto have one.

Frantically, I rush to back up my work in case it—I don’t know—short-circuits on me? My old boss ruined a computer like this once. His shut off immediately and wasn’t salvageable, but hopefully there’ve been some technological advancements in the last ten years.

I’m trying to minimize the damage with half a tree’s worth of napkins when something sizzles and the screen goes black. It’s a hopeless, sticky mess. I’m not getting any more work done today. I’ll be lucky if I get any more work done thisweek.

And I’m supposed to meet Tyler at the ski school in an hour—there’s no way. There’s just no way. Even if I were somehow able to forget about this long enough to relax, there’s still the inconvenientmatter of my soaked, stained outfit. I love the smell of honey nut latte and all, but it’s not exactly my go-to scent—and it’s dripping from the tips of my hair.

I need a shower. I need a lot of things.

So, so sorry, I type out,but I’m going to have to cancel my lesson today. Work emergency.

Tyler doesn’t reply immediately—he’s probably on the mountain with his elderly client who has all the dachshunds, making sure she doesn’t break a hip or tear any important tendons.

Sure enough, when I’ve just gotten back to my penthouse, smelling of sickly sweet old coffee and more than ready to wash this day off my skin, he writes back:Oh, no… sorry to hear that. We’ll make it up another day. :) Still on for tonight at 10 or better to cancel that, too?

His reply brings tears to my eyes. No guilt trip, no pressure to rehash what happened, no indication that I’ve offended him by canceling at the last second.

It’s refreshing, and so different from how Blake would have reacted. Blake would have asked a million questions until I ultimately gave in and went along with the original plan.

What does it say about the men in my life—specifically my ex and my brother—that such a simple message makes me feel so seen?

Puffin rubs up against my ankle, purring. I kneel down to pet him, but he backs away when he smells my coffee-soaked sleeve.

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