Page 22 of Destined For Forever

“Oh, no you did not!” Instead of getting up, he flopped back into a prone position and moved his hands and legs in a wide arc. “It’s fine. I’ll just make some snow angels while I think about how you tricked me with that Oscar-winning performance right then. Crocodile tears and everything!”

Tears? She pulled off a mitten and touched her cheek. Sure enough, it was wet, but she couldn’t feel it because the cold numbed her skin. Horrified at the thought that she’d cried in front of him, she dropped down beside him on the ground. The snow was soft as she made an angel of her own.

Overhead, the sun crept behind a cloud, and the sky was a vibrant blue. With the hush around them and nothing but the whisper of limbs through the snow, Lily briefly contemplated staying in this magical winter wonderland forever.

It’s not real. This is a coverup attempt. A diversion. Once the wedding is over, you’re back to focusing on your career.

She knew that, of course. Her shambles of a life was still repairable, and running away from the problem—either by going home to Australia or somewhere else—would mean she’d truly failed. Permanently failed.

And Lily’s heart wasn’t quite ready to accept that.

“You play dirty, you know.” Sean rolled onto his side and propped himself up on one arm. When she mimicked his movement, turning to face him, they were suddenly much closer. “I don’t remember you doing that well in drama class.”

“Maybe you’re seeing things that aren’t there,” she replied evenly. As much as she may appear cool on the outside, the inside was a whole other story. Being watched by Sean’s silver-blue eyes and noting the way his full lips curved upward, she felt like an ice cube melting in front of a fireplace.

“I’m pretty sure what’s here right now isn’t a hallucination.”

It would be safer if it was.

Because then she wouldn’t be tempted by the hard line of his jaw, nor by his powerful hands and broad shoulders and the vibrant, magnetic energy of him. How easy it was to think they were all alone in the world, cradled by the hush of the snow and the beautiful isolation of the snowbound inn.

“He hurt you,” Sean said, suddenly serious. “It’s okay to be sad.”

She wanted to argue, but there were no case to be made. Instead she simply replied, “Yeah, he really did.”

To her surprise, Sean reached out to touch her face. He’d slipped off his mitten, and his palm was warm against her cheek. Awareness filtered through her body like snow falling—the feeling was soft at first, but it built and built and built as her heart thudded on.

“He has to live with that mistake for the rest of his life,” he said. “Even if he doesn’t realise it now, one day he’s going to wake up, and he’s going to realise what he lost.”

Stupid tears pricked her eyes again but she blinked, refusing to let them fall. She hated how Sean could see right through her defences, blowing down her walls as if they were made of fluffy piles of marshmallows.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Her greatest fear was that once she pulled the stopper out, there would be no getting the emotions back in. That she might fall apart even more thoroughly than she already had. Yet there was something soothing about the way he touched her, laying in the snow with no one around them—they were alone and protected. And Lily had allowed no one to comfort her in the past month. She’d been marching on, trying to appear fine while crumbling on the inside.

“Lily, look at me.” The command was kind and warm, and it teased her with things she couldn’t allow herself to want. Not again.

But her eyes complied, fluttering open and drinking him in.

“I…” There was so much she wanted to say.

I should have picked up the phone when you called.

I never stopped thinking about you.

Can we stay here forever and forget about the rest of the world?

There was a traffic jam in her head, a crash between what was sensible and right versus the boom of building attraction that heated her up from the inside. Nothing would come out. Sean leaned forward like he wanted to kiss her, his lips parted in anticipation. The air crackled between them, delicious tension winding like a screw. Getting tighter, tighter, tighter…

This isn’t real.

She jerked back, reality flooding in like unwelcome rain. She only meant for this relationship to shield her from pity and questions about the breakup. And right now, they were totally and utterly alone. If she kissed him, then it would mean something. It would be for her own pleasure and longing, and not for their charade.

“Sorry, I…” She scrambled back, getting to her feet and shaking the snow from her coat. “I didn’t mean…”

Sean pushed up to a sitting position, his expression difficult to read. “It’s fine.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled again, figuring it was better to say less than more.

But as she hurried back to the house, cursing herself for the constant lapses in judgement she seemed to have around him, she couldn’t shake the feeling of warmth and joy in her body.

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