A Runaway in Winter (Seasons in Montana: Winter)

Prologue

PROLOGUE

PEN

6 MONTHS AGO

“ I thought we talked about this,” Carter says with his usual air of annoyance.

“We did,” I reply calmly, “but that dress isn’t me. Hell, there’s enough fabric for it to have its own zip code.”

“It’s one day—can’t you just deal with it for one day?”

Great. What should be the happiest day of our lives has been reduced to one day.

“But those are the pictures we’ll have to display in our condo, and I’ll have to look at them thinking that it was the dress your mother picked out.”

I stop myself from looking around because his parents had picked this place out too. They’d called it an early wedding present when we’d gotten engaged, but I think they just wanted us to have a more respectable place to entertain Carter’s clients.

I’d done plenty of hosting here and assisting my future mother-in-law in her many charitable endeavors.

His tone is placating as he rounds the sofa to stand in front of me, his hands resting gently on my shoulders. “My mother loves it, and she said you look beautiful.”

I just bet she did.

I don’t know if Carter has always been a momma’s boy or if it’s just something I’ve overlooked all the years we’ve been together. She’d taken over the wedding planning right from the start. While I didn’t want to fight about it, I wanted some say in the planning.

Carter thinks I should be more relaxed with her handling it, but how can I be when his parents are using the day we say “I do” to wine and dine their business associates? The only thing I’d gotten my way on was having the wedding back in Wintervale.

I could pretend I wanted it in my hometown, our hometown, because that’s where we fell in love, but selfishly I just miss being there. I miss the Sterlings and Lake and my Oma.

How many years do I have left with my grandmother? I want to make sure she’s taken care of, but who will care for her while I’m gone?

Bozeman is nice but it isn’t me.

None of this is.

I silence the little voice in my head because it won’t do me any good to dwell on the things I can’t change.

Speaking of…

My brain unhelpfully replays the conversation I had with my best friend earlier when he’d insisted I bring up my promotion again. He’d been so thrilled for me, and couldn’t imagine how Carter wouldn’t be the same.

But he didn’t know Carter.

Still, I brace myself as I say the words.

“And what about my promotion?” I ask, noting the forced smile that graces Carter’s handsome face.

“Penelope, I don’t see the point in taking it,” he drawls, using my full name. Always my full name. “Once we’re married, you’ll have a full schedule of appearances to make and events to manage?—”

“I’m supposed to drop everything to be here waiting for you to get home?”

“I’m doing this for us. I want to take care of you, Penelope, and make sure your Oma is comfortable too,” Carter says, and I sigh, because at one time I believed that. I wanted him and us.

“You’re right. I guess I’m just really stressed.”

“Book yourself a day at the spa,” he says, kissing my forehead before pulling away. “You deserve it. I have to work late tonight; don’t wait up, all right?”

“Sure.”

I watch his retreating form and try like hell to convince myself I’m doing the right thing.

For me and my grandmother and our future.