Page 2 of All in December
“Sam’s eight. It’s cool they’re close in age, probably whythey seem to be getting along so well already,” I add, still wanting to keep this conversation going.
He smiles again, and it suddenly feels unseasonably warm for such a chilly December day. And it’s cold—the kind of cold that’s sharp enough to sting your lungs. Yet his smile makes my chest do that stupid flutter thing I thought I’d never feel again at this age.
“Maybe they’ll end up ski buddies by the end of the day,” Nash suggests.
The end of the day? Is he implying that we’ll be spending the day together? My chest flutters again, somehow more aggressively this time, at the implication his words hold. I lick my lips before raking the bottom one between my teeth, trying to hold back an overly telling smile. I can already tell I’d really like to spend the day with him. It’s impossible not to overthink his words, but I’d kind of like to be ski buddies with him, too. Or… whatever the grown-up version of that is.
“Seems like we’re heading that way.” I laugh as I listen to the boys’ conversation evolve into their favorite trails on the mountain.
The chair sways slightly as it pauses for a moment, and I glance at Nash again, trying not to stare. It’s a challenge, though, with how handsome he is, with his bright smile, olive skin, and dark brown strands of hair sticking out from under his helmet. There’s a familiarity to him I can’t place—not in a I-know-youway, but in a I-get-you kind of way. It’s evident in how he watches his son and seems to find joy in the shared moments like these with him.
Single dad radar, maybe. Or maybe just loneliness recognizing itself in someone else, even though he doesn’t appear to be lonely at all.
It’s been a long time since I felt a genuine connection withsomeone, and between work and Sam, my time is limited. I want to date again and fall in love, but I don’t know when I’ll be able to find the time, let alone my person.
As we approach the summit, the sky is darker and the snow falls heavier. It’s always fascinated me how the base and the peak can have such different weather, even though they’re only a few thousand feet apart in elevation.
“Storm’s rolling in,” Nash says with a big smile. “Hopefully it means fresh snow tomorrow.”
I nod, shifting my goggles into place, thinking about how much I suddenly wish we were staying the night. Nash keeps mentioning a storm, and maybe I should’ve looked at the weather more closely before we drove up this morning. I knew it was going to snow, but I have no idea how much.
Maybe we should head out after the lunch I’d already promised Sam, even though I already hate that idea.
As we approach the drop zone, the chair slows just enough for us to all slide off, skis scraping against packed powder. We glide out of the way of the next riders and turn toward the trail on the right.
“You wanna ski down together?” Nash asks.
My stomach flutters once again because he actually meant what he said on the chairlift. He wasn’t just being friendly—he meant it—and someone following through on what they said they’d do? That’s a major green flag for me.
“Sounds fun. You wanna do that, bud?” I ask Sam, even though I’m pretty sure I already know the answer, since he and Benji are still talking by themselves.
“Yes!” he shouts and turns to Benji. “Race you to the bottom?”
“You’re on!” Benji replies, and I really hope no one ends up with a twisted ankle.
They push off, skiing down the mountain, and I can’t help but laugh at their enthusiasm.
“Ready?” Nash asks, and I give him a quick nod.
He follows behind the boys, and I take off a moment later, leaning into the slope. The air bites at my cheeks as we pick up speed, flying down a wide trail lined with snowy evergreens. I’ve always thought that certain snows make the trees look like they’ve been spray-painted white, and today’s one of those days.
The trail we’re on is labeled as a blue with only a few steep parts, and it’s a run Sam and I have done countless times.
Sam’s laugh carries up the mountain to me as he tucks his little body forward to try to beat Benji, but Benji keeps up, cutting quick, tight turns behind him. I’m just glad neither of them is trying to straight-line it down the mountain. The last thing they need is to pick up speed too quickly and end up hurt in the ski patrol’s sled.
Nash and I are still behind them, letting them have their fun.
“They’re having the time of their lives today, huh?” he calls over the wind, glancing sideways at me as we hit a flatter stretch.
“You can say that again.” I laugh. “He’s definitely having more fun now than he was with just me.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, Benji too. He loves to show off when he’s got friends around. He terrifies me every time he leaves the ground.”
I motion toward the boys as Benji skis over a small bump, getting a couple of inches of air at most, and Sam follows, doing the same. “Like that?”
“Exactly like that.” He laughs easily.
I don’t remember the last time I felt this at ease talking to someone new, especially another dad. Usually, it feels like forced, awkward small talk. Or trying to figure out what to say without oversharing, yet still saying enough to fit in with the other parents. But with Nash, it’s been surprisingly easy, almost like we’ve somehow already skipped a few steps to make it to the fun and comfortable part of friendship.
