Page 18 of Merry'd to the Mountain Man
My chest tightens.
I kneel and pick it up, the paper crinkling softly. My hands shake as I tear it open. Inside is a red scarf, the same shade as the one she always wore.
I lift it out, wrap it around my neck, and for a second, I can’t breathe.
It smells like her.
That same mix of vanilla and cinnamon, soft and warm and completely her.
I sink onto the couch, scarf clutched in my hands, and let the ache roll through me. I didn’t know missing someone could feel like this—like there’s too much air in the room and not enough in my lungs.
Tomorrow’s December 31st. The end of the year. The end of the deal.
I’m supposed to meet with Wentworth, the lawyer, to finalize the paperwork. Ryan will be there, smug as ever, probably ready to gloat when he sees Frankie’s gone.
The thought makes me grab my phone before I can talk myself out of it.
Cole:Will you be at the office tomorrow?
I stare at the screen, thumb hovering. Three dots quickly appear. My pulse kicks. Then they disappear. My heart sinks. I start to type something else—Forget I asked—but before I can hit send, my phone buzzes.
Frankie:I’ll be there.
I stare at the words until the screen times out. Then I read them again. For the first time in a week, hope stirs in my chest, small but alive.
Tomorrow, I’ll see her again.
And this time, I’m not letting her walk away without knowing how I feel.
CHAPTER 15
Cole
I’ve never hated waiting rooms more.
The clock ticks loud enough to rattle my nerves. The fluorescent lights hum like a swarm of bees. I can’t stop my leg from bouncing. Every time the elevator bell dings down the hall, my head snaps up, desperate for it to be her.
I tell myself it’s because I need her here—because she’s the key to securing the cabin, the mountain, and my family's legacy. That’s the story I keep repeating in my head.
But I know better.
It isn’t the land I’m waiting for. It’s Frankie.
I think about Gramps. About the way he used to look at Grams in that old photo—the way she completely consumed every fiber of his being. I used to think it was sappy. Now I understand it.
The way he’d do anything to make her smile. The way he built a life around her happiness.
Maybe this whole time, Gramps wasn’t just teaching me about family. Maybe he was trying to teach me about love.
The elevator bell rings. My heart leaps.
But it’s not her.
Ryan steps out, smug as sin in his designer coat and that same gloating expression I’ve wanted to knock off his face since we were kids.
“Still waiting on your runaway bride?” he says, smirking.
“She’s not late,” I say automatically, even though she is.
