They’d stayed at a lodge right by the slopes. March had been snowy and there had been a lot of fresh powder. Andrew had taught her to ski during the day while the evenings had been spent making love in front of a roaring fire.
“But the sheen didn’t last.”
When she blinked and refocused, Andrew was standing in the doorway, coffee mug in hand, studying her.
“I cared for you.”
“Not enough.”
Saved by the oven ding. Grateful for the distraction, Sylvie grabbed oven mitts and opened the mammoth door, noting with approval the golden brown of the scones. With quick, expert movements, she removed the trays and set them aside to cool, then slid several pans of brownies inside and shut the door.
It wasn’t until she’d reset the oven timer did she shift her attention back to Andrew. His grey eyes had gone cool, his expression implacable.
She resisted the urge to cross her own arms across her chest. The promise she’d given, to be honest about her feelings chafed, but she would hold herself to it. “It was just so difficult to believe.”
“What?” he asked when she refocused on the mixing bowl, instead of finishing the thought. “What was so difficult to believe?”
There was frustration simmering in the tone and when she heard his footsteps cross the room, Sylvie wasn’t surprised.
“What is difficult to believe?” he repeated.
He wasn’t going to let this go, she knew. And she’d brought this upon herself by tossing out such a cryptic comment.
Because he stood so close, Sylvie turned slightly then lifted her hand to gently pat his cheek. “It’s difficult for me to believe that what is good in my life at one moment, isn’t going to turn bad in the next.”