Chapter Seven
By the next morning, Amelie still wasn’t entirely convinced the previous twenty-four hours had actually happened.
There were moments as she walked through the snow-dusted streets of Zermatt beside Grant, Tyler, and Trevor when she found herself wondering if she had somehow slipped into one of those holiday movies she used to watch when the boys were little.
The kind where fate was heavy-handed, snow fell at the perfect time, and the past came strolling back into your life wearing a winter coat and a smile that had haunted you for more than a decade.
Except this wasn’t a movie. This was real.
Grant was real. The boys walking on either side of him, asking questions faster than he could answer them, were real.
And the ache in her chest every time she watched him look at them like they were something precious he was afraid might disappear was very, very real.
She had gone to bed the night before emotionally wrung out, her mind replaying every second of the conversation on the patio.
Even now, thinking about it made her chest tighten in a way that was equal parts joy and grief. Twelve years of pain didn’t vanish because of one conversation, no matter how honest or emotional it had been, but something important had shifted.
For the first time in years, the past didn’t feel like a locked room she was afraid to open. It felt like a door that had finally cracked wide enough to let light in.
Still, she had mostly tried to stay quiet that morning, giving the boys space to know their father without her hovering like an overprotective mother hen.
Unfortunately, the three Carter men seemed to have silently decided that was unacceptable.
Every time she drifted a step behind to let Tyler and Trevor talk to Grant, one of them looped her back into the conversation.
Even when she tried to be the quiet observer, Grant would glance back at her with those green eyes and a small smile that made her stomach flutter like she was twenty-three all over again.
The boys, of course, had many questions for Grant.
They asked him what BUD/S had been like and whether he had really jumped out of planes.
He handled most of them with patience and good humor.
Tyler wanted to know if Grant had ever snowboarded down anything more dangerous than a marked slope, and Trevor asked if he could identify six exits in the Christmas market without turning his head.
Grant gave Trevor a long look and said, “You’re a little terrifying,” to which Trevor replied, “Thank you,” as if it were the nicest compliment he had ever received.
Amelie had laughed so much that her cheeks hurt.
They eventually wandered deeper into the Christmas market, where little wooden stalls lined the village square beneath strings of warm lights and hanging garland.
The scent of roasted chestnuts, chocolate, and cinnamon filled the air, and people moved between vendors with shopping bags and steaming cups of hot drinks.
Amelie had always loved Christmas markets, but this one felt different.
Maybe because the boys were practically vibrating with excitement.
Maybe because Grant was walking beside her, close enough that his shoulder brushed hers every now and then.
Or maybe because, for the first time in a very long time, she wasn’t carrying the weight of the past by herself.
They stopped near a vendor selling hand-painted ornaments, and Amelie barely had time to admire the display before Tyler and Trevor exchanged one of their looks that she knew too well.
It was the look that had preceded broken lamps, and one incident involving a homemade zip line she still refused to discuss without chocolate nearby.
“What are you two plotting?” she asked, narrowing her eyes as they moved closer to the ornament stall.
Tyler gave her an innocent expression that fooled absolutely no one. “Nothing.”
Trevor nodded. “We just know you buy an ornament everywhere we travel.”
Her heart softened because they did know that. They knew every little tradition she had built for them over the years, and despite their sarcasm and preteen dramatics, they cared about every single one.
“We wanted to buy one for you,” Tyler admitted, then immediately winced. “Except we left our money in the room.”
Trevor sighed as though this failure had personally offended him. “Which is unfortunate because for once we were trying to be thoughtful without being reminded.”
Amelie laughed and reached for her bag. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll get it.”
Before she could pull out her wallet, Grant stepped forward and handed the boys some Swiss francs without making a big production of it. “Here,” he said. “A man should always fund a mission when the objective is making your mom smile.”
Both boys grinned like he had just handed them classified military equipment and immediately began debating which ornament was worthy of the occasion.
She looked at Grant. “Thank you.”
His gaze met hers, and he smiled. “Anytime.”
The boys held up several options before Amelie finally spotted one tucked near the back of the display.
It was a delicate glass ornament shaped like a snow-covered chalet with the Matterhorn painted behind it. Across the bottom, in tiny gold lettering, were the words Where love finds its way home.
She reached for it, and the moment Grant saw the words, his expression changed. He understood. Of course he did. That was one of the most dangerous things about him. Even after twelve years, he still knew how to read her.
His smile was small but devastatingly tender, and when she smiled back, Tyler made a dramatic gagging noise while Trevor muttered, “Subtle, guys. Very subtle.”
Amelie shot them both a warning look, but she was smiling too much for it to be effective.
After lunch at a cozy pub where the boys inhaled burgers like they’d been denied food for days, they started making their way back through the village toward the hotel.
They were halfway across the square when Mac, Jessie, Nico, and Rafe appeared from one of the shops. Jessie carried several bags, Mac looked like a man who had survived a financial ambush, and Nico and Rafe were eating something covered in powdered sugar.
“There they are,” Jessie called, smiling when she spotted them. “How was family bonding day?”
Amelie felt her cheeks warm at the word family, but before she could respond, Tyler bent down and scooped up a handful of snow. Trevor immediately copied him.
Amelie narrowed her eyes. “Don’t even think about it.”
“We’re just appreciating the snow,” Tyler said innocently.
“That face says otherwise,” she replied.
Before she could stop them, Trevor pegged Tyler in the shoulder with a snowball.
Tyler gasped dramatically. “Oh, you’re going to get it.”
Within seconds, the twins were pelting each other with snowballs while everyone else watched with varying degrees of amusement.
Grant shook his head, laughing. “Boys—”
A snowball flew wide and hit him squarely in the chest.
Grant looked down at the snow splattered across his jacket. Then he slowly looked up at the twins.
Tyler and Trevor froze.
“Oh no,” Tyler said.
“Oh yes,” Grant replied, already bending down to gather snow.
The boys immediately took off running, laughing, and yelling as Grant launched after them with a snowball in hand.
That was all it took. The moment Grant joined in, everyone else got dragged into the battle, and the next few minutes dissolved into chaos.
Snowballs flew across the square as Tyler and Trevor joined forces with Grant while Nico and Rafe retaliated with terrifying enthusiasm.
Mac claimed he was too mature for such childish behavior right before nailing Grant in the shoulder with a snowball.
Jessie and Amelie stood off to the side, both trying to remain neutral while laughing.
“Should we stop them?” Jessie asked, watching four grown men and two twelve-year-olds behave like unsupervised children.
Amelie shook her head. “Absolutely not. Let the children play.”
Jessie glanced at Mac, who was currently using a decorative planter as cover. “Including the man-children?”
“Especially the man-children.”
The words had barely left Amelie’s mouth when an arm wrapped around her waist from behind.
She squealed as Grant lifted her off her feet and twisted, taking them both down into a soft snowbank beside the walkway.
“You tackled me,” she said, trying to sound offended.
“I did.”
“I was an innocent bystander.”
“You were providing commentary.”
“I was making observations.”
“You called me a man-child.”
“You were throwing snowballs in a public square.”
“And now I’m proving your point,” he said, smiling.
Suddenly, Amelie was very aware that she was lying in the snow with Grant half over her, his body close enough to make every inappropriate thought she had no business thinking march cheerfully through her mind.
His eyes were filled with amusement, and she narrowed hers. “Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“Looking like you know exactly what I’m thinking.”
His grin deepened. “Mel, I know exactly what you’re thinking.”
Her mouth fell open. “You absolutely do not.”
“Pretty sure I do.”
She tried to glare at him, but the effect was ruined by the fact that she was laughing. “I am furious with you.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I could be.”
“You’re terrible at fake mad.”
Before she could come up with a response, his expression softened in a way that changed the entire moment.
Grant reached up and brushed a strand of hair away from her cheek, his gloved fingers lingering just long enough to make her breath catch.
“Go out with me tonight,” he said.
Amelie blinked. “What?”
“A date,” he said, his gaze holding hers. “You and me.”
For a second, she forgot about the snow beneath her, the boys nearby, the chaos of the last twenty-four hours, and every reason she should probably move slowly.
A date with Grant. The man she had loved at seventeen, lost at twenty-three, and somehow found again in a Christmas village in Switzerland.