CAMERON
Hours later, the room completely dark except for the fire crackling in the hearth, he brought the reheated cheese back to her where she lay on the couch, covered only by the blanket he’d tucked around her. She was at the edges of a puddle of warmth and light that they’d created. And—he wasn’t going to lie—that he wished would never end.
He paused in the cold darkness, looking at her. How much time did they have left? An hour. Four? Six? Was that enough.
“Come on,” she said, lifting the blanket. “You must be freezing.”
“You are the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said.
“That can’t be true,” she said, and he set down the food he’d made, pushed the ottoman closer so they could reach it, then scurried under the blanket with her. Her body was hot to the touch. She shrieked and flinched away from his cold hands but he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.
“Mean! So mean!” she cried.
“The cost of the Georgian cheese boat.”
“Well, in that case…” She reached over and tore a piece off the bread boat and dipped it in the cheese. She handed it to him over her shoulder. As she reached for another one he could hear the buzzing and humming of her laptop where she’d slipped it beneath the couch.
“Were you working?” he asked.
“Just checking emails and…” He pressed the cold of his foot against her leg. “Yes. Yes. I was working.”
He shifted his leg away but pulled her closer, the swells of her naked body filling the dips in his perfectly.
“I’m going to ask you five questions—”
“No!” She laughed. “Cameron, have you ever actually gotten to the fifth question?”
“With you? No. I don’t think so. But hope springs eternal. Now, do you remember the rules?”
“Of course, Cam. I do watch your channel.”
“As a reminder, you have to answer honestly and right off the top of your head. If you take longer than five seconds to answer you have to pay a penalty.”
“That’s new. What kind of penalty?”
“The kind I decide.”
“You do love this game.”
“Hey, it’s served me well. Ready? What’s the best part of your job?”
“Solving problems,” she answered honestly.
“What’s the worst part?”
She was silent.
“One…” He rolled her onto her back so he could see her face clearly. “Two.” He lifted his hand, fingers extended and wiggling.
“Tickling?” she said. “Really? Tickling is the penalty?”
“Three.”
He dug his fingers into her side, into that spot where she’d always been ticklish. And she did not disappoint. Howling and twisting, she tried to get away. “Okay. Okay!” she screamed, and he paused and repeated the question. “Worst thing about your job?”
“The people.”
That made him pause. “You work with?”
“They’re not bad. I mean, some of them are okay. But these contestants. Fame hungry and drama hungry, they make bad choices and we make bad choices and it just turns into…something ugly.”
“Okay,” he asked quietly. “Why do you do it?”
“Because they keep giving me more money and bigger credits.”
“You never cared about money before.”
She blinked at him. “Well, I grew up.”
“You wanted to be a part of telling people’s stories. That’s what I remember. You were excited about working in film and television because you wanted that to be the medium for people’s stories.”
“That’s not a question.”
“Okay. What would you do if you could do anything?”
“Honestly, Cameron. I haven’t thought about it.”
“Why?”
“Because it would make me sad.”
“Oh, Josie,” he whispered, his heart breaking for her. “You gotta quit that job.”
“And do what?”
“Figure it out.”
“Are you telling me you’re doing exactly what you want to do?”
He shifted, rolling over her, finding his way between her legs where she was warm and welcoming. “Now I am,” he said and kissed her. He kissed her and forgot that he had one more question to ask her.
JOSIE
Her body was toasty warm but her nose was cold. Without opening her eyes she tried to lift her hand to put it over her nose to warm it up, but her arms were caught against her body.
Cameron. Cameron was behind her on the couch, his arm over hers. His body heat under the blanket was like a furnace. Memories of the night curled through her. His lips. His hands. His body. The look in his eyes when she touched him. The way he said her name when she slipped him into her mouth. The grip of his hands on her hips. The growl of his voice when he told her how good she felt. How beautiful she was.
The remembered pleasure was this beautiful echo in her body, reaching out for her soul. Her heart.
This is goodbye, she told herself, because it didn’t really feel like it. It felt like a second chance and she needed to remind herself it wasn’t.
She blinked open her eyes and saw the fire was nothing but embers and bright sunlight was coming in through the big windows.
The sun was out. And long, long icicles were dripping from the roof down to the snow-covered ground. The mountains were blanketed in white.
She heard a very discreet cough, and her eyes flew to the edge of the fireplace closest to the door.
Patrick.
Patrick, who walked to the lodge early to light the fires every morning in the winter. He stood there in his thick deerstalker cap and his red and black checked winter jacket. He was pink-cheeked from the snow. Or from finding his granddaughter naked on the couch with a man who had once been like a grandson to him.
Oh god, please just let me die.
“The storm stopped around seven a.m.,” he said. “It’s nearly nine now. Unless you want everyone to know your business, you might think about getting up.” Then he started to blush. The tips of his ears got red. “I’ll give you some privacy.” He walked toward the kitchen and she immediately elbowed Cameron in the chest.
“Ouch,” he said, keeping his eyes shut and trying to pull her back into his arms. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nearly nine and the storm stopped two hours ago.”
His eyes popped open. “Shit. Is anyone here yet?”
“Patrick,” she all but wailed.
“Okay. Okay,” he said. They threw off the blanket and in the chilly air of the lodge they scrambled into their clothes. She covered her torn shirt with an old flannel shirt of Max’s that she found in the closet.
“I’ve gotta go to the bathroom,” she said. “Can you…?” She waved a finger over the empty wine bottle and the glasses and the remains of the demolished cheese boat. Condoms. There were condoms in that mess, too.
“I got it,” he said, and she ran for the stairs. As she hit the second floor landing she thought she heard him say her name, but when she turned he was already gathering up the mess and walking away from her.
CAMERON
He took a deep breath before walking into the kitchen. Cameron was a full-grown adult and so was Josie, but that didn’t make getting caught naked by a man he’d always considered a grandfather any easier.
He pushed open the door and found the old man standing at the coffee machine, watching as it gurgled and hissed.
“Hi Patrick,” Cameron said.
“Hello Cameron.” Patrick turned with a sparkle in his eye and Cameron found himself smiling.
“Probably not what you were expecting?” Cameron asked.
“Cam, I’ve been making the fire in this lodge every morning for years now and I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve caught some family member naked.”
“So nothing special then?”
“Well, I didn’t say that.” Patrick handed Cameron a mug.
Cameron set down the remnants of last night and took the coffee.
“I’m not supposed to have the high-octane stuff,” Patrick said. “But I figure if no one is here to see me, maybe it doesn’t count.”
“I don’t think it works that way.”
“Probably not.” Patrick took a sip of the brew made from Alice’s very good beans and smacked his lips with delight. “So?” he asked.
“So?” Cameron echoed, looking for the milk because Patrick made his coffee like tar.
“So that’s how you’re going to play this?” Patrick asked. “Like it’s no big deal?”
“There’s no other way to play it,” Cameron said.
“Says who?”
A thousand things rushed to his lips, but it was the truth that slipped out. “Josie.”
Patrick’s eyes went wide. “You made your move then?” he asked. “Stated your case.”
“It’s not that easy.”
Patrick nodded sagely and took another sip of coffee before he set it down. “Well, I can’t tell you your business,” he said. “I wouldn’t even pretend to know. But I will tell you what wasn’t easy…for me.” He pressed a gnarled hand to his chest, the wedding ring gleaming brightly against his wrinkled skin and oversized knuckles. A workingman’s hand with a ring he’d never taken off.
“Yeah?” Cameron asked.
“All those years me and Iris spent apart. Because I’d convinced myself it was too hard to figure out how to get back together. How to forgive her. And help the boys forgive. How to forgive myself. It was all too hard. And I’d give everything I have for just one of those days back that we wasted. Because what’s hard is loving someone when they’re not here to be loved.”
“Patrick,” Cameron said. “We were kids when I loved her. It’s not the same.”
“Yeah. You were kids. But even then we knew what you two were. What you meant to each other. And maybe you are just friends. But I gotta tell you, son…” When Patrick called him son it didn’t rankle like it did with Max. “I have not once gotten naked with one of my friends like you did with Josie.” He waggled his old man eyebrows. “I’ve got to go make a fire. If someone comes, you made that coffee.”
Cameron smiled and watched as Patrick left. It’s not the same, he told himself when he found he wanted to believe it was. That Patrick was right—it was harder to be apart than to figure out how to be together. And maybe it wasn’t hard for him. He had no ties to any place. No apartment. No job expecting him to solve problems twenty-four hours a day.
Stop. You knew the rules going in. This was goodbye.
He pulled out the cinnamon rolls that had proofed overnight and started to preheat the oven, and he did the dishes, and none of it mattered because he couldn’t stop the thought that grew in his head.
What if this isn’t goodbye?