Page 29 of Snowed In with My Best Friend's Dad

He looked up and smiled. "I hope you like French toast."

Feeling safe, I entered. "I love French toast. You may have noticed that there isn't much food that I don't like."

He frowned and then rolled his eyes. "You’re not one of those women who are always comparing yourself to plastic magazine women, are you?"

I shook my head. "If I did, I would diet and exercise more."

He gave a curt nod. "Good."

"I'm surprised you say that considering you own gyms and have a nutrition line."

He shrugged. "Health comes in many sizes and shapes. Physical health is important, but so is mental health. Mental health can have an impact on physical health. You look happy and healthy and that's what matters, right?" He gave me a sly smile.

I was happy to hear him say it.

We enjoyed breakfast, and then I pulled out all the ingredients to make sugar cookies. I was pleased to discover that he also had powdered sugar, which meant I would be able to make frosting. He didn't have food coloring or sprinkles, but I found fruit and figured we could use that to decorate them.

After cookies, we ended up in the hot tub, naked, and of course, nature prevailed.

The evening proceeded just as it had the night before where we had dinner and afterward hot chocolate with peppermint liqueur, ending the evening on the floor in front of the fire enjoying each other's body until fully sated.

As we lay in front of the fire, Brett spooned around me, his slow, steady breaths telling me he was asleep. I thought about how quickly the day had passed. Too fast. I wasn't ready for our time together to end. I wasn't ready to let him go.

Although it was futile, I tried to figure out what to say so that we could continue to be together. I knew it could only happen if Lindsay never found out, which created guilt at betraying her. But the heart wanted what it wanted, right?

I thought I could tell Lindsay I was going off to study and then I could see Brett. Maybe sometimes, we could sneak back up here to be together. I fell asleep imagining a life that I knew I couldn't have.

I wokein the morning feeling chilled. My eyes opened to find the fire was out and Brett's body was no longer wrapped around me. I hoped that he was off making breakfast, but deep down, I knew the truth. Today, this magical Christmas holiday ended.

I got up, slipping my clothes on, folding the blanket, and putting it on the couch. I peeked into the kitchen but didn't see him. So, I went upstairs to my room to shower and pack. Deep down, I hoped that the roads were still impassable, or perhaps my car couldn't be pulled from the ditch, but I forced myself to look at reality. I had to be grateful for this experience even as it grieved me to let it go.

I carried my bag and my backpack down the stairs, setting them near the front door. I entered the kitchen, smelling the brew of coffee. Brett was looking out the French doors of the kitchen with coffee in his hand.

He turned as I entered. His cheeks were flushed, his blond silver hair looking windblown, telling me he'd been outside.

"There's coffee if you like."

I couldn't say that his voice was curt, but neither did it have the smooth welcoming it had yesterday.

"Thank you. I'm all packed." Perhaps if I signaled to him that I understood our time together was over, he might not be compelled to be rude.

"Good. The roads are passable, and I met the tow truck down by your car this morning. We dug it out and towed it back. It's out front."

I glanced at the clock on the wall, noting it was eight in the morning. He must've been up before dawn to do all that. It told me he was eager for me to be gone.

"Thank you for that. If you give me the bill—"

He shook his head. "It's all right. I handled it."

Our gazes held for a moment, but then he abruptly turned away, walking around the counter to the main part of the kitchen. "Are you hungry? I was thinking of eggs and hashbrowns this morning."

I really wanted to stay and have breakfast, to draw out our time together for as long as I could. But what was the point? I should treat this like a Band-Aid—just rip it off and leave.

"I should probably get on the road soon. There will probably be lots of after Christmas traffic as I get closer to Boston."

He nodded, and I swore I could see relief in his eyes. He came around the island, leaning against it and crossing his arms over his chest. "Before you go, I need to make sure that we are clear—"

"I know." I snapped more harshly than I should have. "Lindsay's not to know."

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