Page 22 of Snowbound

I don’t even want to know what that says about me.

“Is this good?” I gesture to some cubes of potato.

“Perfect,” he says, and I catch just the faintest glimmer of a smile on his face. It sends a warm rush right through my core. There is absolutely no reason why his approval should mean anything to me, but being able to make him smile — that feels like a big achievement.

It’s the closest I’ve come to having a positive response for the whole time I’ve been here.

It makes me want to do it again.

We stand in the kitchen for a while longer, pretending that we’re still doing cooking tasks while the stew bubbles away. Gabe puts some of the plates from his dishwasher away, and I pretend to help him.

Despite all our differences, we’ve settled into an easy routine here. With some people, hanging out in silence feels like the worst thing you could possibly be doing to them. Like it’s genuinely agonizing. But with Gabe… he doesn’t seem to mind the silence.

He doesn’t mind doing what he’s doing while I’m doing what I’m doing. It’s an ease that I’ve rarely felt with someone else. It makes me feel like I’ve been spending my time with the wrong people.

As soon as I think that, as if on cue, my phone rings. I swear in surprise, and my heart freezes when I see the caller ID. It’s Millie. The bride. And no doubt she has a few choice words for me.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I have to take this.”

“The client?” he asks. I nod, swallowing. “Good luck,” he says.

“I’m going to need it.”

I slide through to the living room and close the door behind me. I take a deep breath, then answer. “Hello?”

“And just where the hell have you been?” snaps Millie.

“Well, I—” I start before she cuts me off.

“We were expecting to meet you today, and all you’ve done is ignore us. Don’t you know how busy we are? Don’t you know how much of our time you’ve wasted by not showing up? We could have spent this time doing something useful, but because we were assured you were the best, we put it aside to meet you. Do you think this is good enough?”

“No, but I?—”

“Cassidy, who used you last year, said that you were one of the most reliable people she’d ever met. She said you made magic for her and Dave. Do you not like us or something? Is that why you haven’t showed up? Because I don’t think that’s very professional. Do you think that’s very professional?”

“No, I don’t. But if you just let me?—”

“I don’t need your excuses, Connie.”

“Carly,” I correct her, gritting my teeth.

“What excuse can you even give that’s good enough?”

“Car trouble,” I croak.

“Car trouble,” she echoes snobbishly. It’s clear she doesn’t believe me.

“It’s the truth,” I say. “I’m here in Michigan. I just?—”

“You know what? Save it. You were meant to meet with us this morning, and you weren’t here. I’ll give you one more chance. I want to see you at five o’clock sharp, or else, this whole thing’s off.”

“My car is in the shop,” I blurt out. “I’ll never be able to make it.”

“You’re telling me you can’t make our meeting, even though you promised that you were the very best person for this job? Even though you promised that every time we needed anything from you, you would be there for us in person?”

“I did, but?—”

“Will you be able to make a meeting at five o’clock or not? Yes or no, Connie.”