53

Kate smoothed her palms down her sweater dress, then gripped her purse strap like it was a seat belt and she was preparing for a head-on collision.

Travelers spilled out into the international arrivals area, but none of them were Ben or Frida.

They’d been on the plane. The plane landed on time. Passport control always took forever for foreigners, so she’d added twenty minutes after landing time to know when to be at arrivals. It’d been at least an hour—she checked her watch—no, fifteen minutes past her estimate that only felt like an hour.

Their luggage got misplaced. Or I’m at the wrong terminal. Both their phones died. I could call the airport, have them tell Ben to meet me—no, that would be weird.

Kate lightly stomped her feet and scuffed the soles of her boots on the airport tile, a literal method of grounding that kept her from scratching at her fingers with her thumbnails.

Today needed to go well. The next two weeks needed to go well.

If Frida didn’t like her, changed her mind about her, then what the hell would she do with the rest of her winter break? With the rest of her life? Worse yet, what if Clara didn’t like Ben?

Where the hell were they?

“Hei, kjære.”

Kate’s breath caught at the sound of Ben’s voice. There he was, in a black wool coat, luggage rolling behind him. Kate threw her arms around the man. His coat scratched at her face.

“You didn’t see me,” he said as he held her. “We walked right by you.”

“I didn’t. I’m sorry. I’ve been in my head all day. Fuck.” She looked up at him. “I wanted to be here, to see you when you arrived. I don’t know how I missed—”

Ben kissed her, soft and brief. He pulled away, and behind him stood a tall, thin girl in a black puffer jacket and red skinny jeans. Frida. Her gaze jumped up from her phone, mildly startled. Timidly, she approached Ben’s side.

“Hey there,” Kate said, and in a moment of panic and unsure cultural customs, reached out to shake Frida’s hand. “It’s so nice to finally meet you in person.”

Frida hesitated, then accepted. After an extended awkward handshake, the girl laughed and pulled Kate in for a hug.

The first thing Kate did when they arrived at her house was make sure Frida was connected to the Wi-Fi. With that, the girl was content and retired to the spare room.

Inside Kate’s bedroom, Ben walked around, nodding in approval. “It is nice,” he said as his fingertips grazed the maple headboard. “Though white walls are boring. And too bright.”

“Can’t do much with a rental. One day, I’ll have my own place. Paint it however I want. Until then, that’s what the framed photos are for.”

Throughout the house, lining the hallways and decorating most rooms, Kate had hung photos she’d taken throughout her life, most long since hidden after moving in with Nikki. Photos of her parents, of flowers, but mostly scenic views from the places she’d been, beginning with her home state of Massachusetts and ending with a shot taken on her short-lived first hike at Andre Hjem. They weren’t art, but they were hers, and they made her happy.

The photos stood as a reminder that her disjointed past was her story—that life was a journey, one that rarely finished where it began. No two paths were the same. No two people were the same. She was her own person, with her own experiences, and was allowed to enjoy the things she enjoyed. Like photos of Massachusetts glacial potholes, Scottish thistles, Newfoundland evergreens, and Colorado mountains.

When Ben sat on the edge of the bed, he winced. “I need to lie down. Too much sitting.”

Kate closed the door and locked it.

“Nearly twenty-four hours of travel,” he said. “Worth it.”

“Will you be alright for the road trip?”

“Your car has comfortable seats, unlike airplanes.”

She smiled and cozied up to him. “I’m glad Frida could come. So far, so good.”

“Frida likes you. Though, perhaps the true test is spending ‘an exorbitant amount of time’ with her in a moving vehicle.” Ben smirked and cocked a brow. “Us talking, her ignoring us. Or her raving about Jenny. Her complaining that our music choice is terrible.”

Kate laughed.

“If you two are not ready to kill each other after hours and hours together,” he continued, “then maybe…”

“Maybe we’ll all be ready.”

Ben rumbled with a deep hum. Kate kissed him between his brows, then whispered, “Did you pack the hat?”

He nodded. “And Frida’s early Christmas gift was noise-canceling headphones.”

“Oh really.”

“Mhmm.”

Kate grinned, then kissed her cowboy.