Chapter 5 #2
"Knox." William's voice carries a warning.
"Right. Shutting up now."
I escape to the kitchen, face warm. Knox flirts like breathing, I remind myself. It doesn't mean anything.
I decide on coq au vin for dinner—complex enough to keep my hands busy but comforting for a storm night.
As I reach up to grab a pot from the high shelf, I feel the ties of my wrap dress loosen.
I'm just tying the strings of my wrap dress tighter when they loosen again.
The dress is one of my favorites, but the ties are temperamental, so I fix them again.
I'm reaching for the wine when it happens. The ties un-do entirely, and suddenly my dress is gaping open, revealing my lacy bra and way too much skin. The wine bottle slips from my hand—
Three things happen simultaneously.
William lunges forward, catching the bottle before it shatters. "Careful," he says, voice commanding but gentle. His eyes stay fixed on my face, not dropping lower despite my state of undress.
Knox spins around so fast he nearly falls over. "Oh God, sorry, I'm not looking!" He's covering his eyes with both hands like a child, and despite my mortification, it's oddly sweet.
Travis simply steps forward, blocking me from view while handing me a kitchen towel. "Here," he says calmly, like this is perfectly normal.
I clutch the towel to me, my face burning. "I'm so sorry, I—"
"Don't apologize," William cuts in. "Knox, stop being dramatic. Travis, could you..."
"Already on it." Travis gently takes my elbow. "Come on, let's get you sorted. Knox, help William with dinner prep. And actually help, don't just eat everything."
He guides me to the powder room off the kitchen, standing guard outside while I fix my dress with shaking hands. I can hear Knox babbling nervously in the kitchen, William telling him to shut up, the clink of pots and pans.
"All fixed?" Travis asks through the door.
"Yes." I emerge, still embarrassed. "Thank you. I'm so sorry for—"
"Hey." He stops me with a gentle hand on my arm. "Wardrobe malfunctions happen. No one's judging you. Well, Knox might be mentally painting the scene for his 'Disasters in the Kitchen' series, but that's just his artistic nature."
We return to find Knox frantically chopping vegetables while William reads the recipe I'd left out, frowning at my handwritten notes.
"Your handwriting is atrocious," he informs me.
"Yours isn't exactly calligraphy," I shoot back, then freeze. Did I just sass William Montclair?
But he almost smiles. "Fair point. Now, what does this say? 'Add wine until it looks right'? That's not a measurement."
"It's intuitive cooking."
"It's chaotic."
"It's art," Knox pipes up, still chopping with more enthusiasm than skill. "Not everything needs to be precisely measured, Will."
"Says the man who just cut those carrots into completely different sizes."
I hip-check Knox out of the way. "Let me do that before you lose a finger. William, you're on wine duty. Approximately on cup in the pot, and don't you dare measure it. Travis, can you check if we have pearl onions?"
Somehow, we make dinner together. It's chaotic and loud and nothing like I'm used to. Knox keeps sneaking tastes and making suggestions. William questions every technique. Travis mediates and actually follows directions.
It's... fun. Really fun.
By the time we sit down to eat, the storm outside has intensified but inside feels warm and safe. The boys argue about movies, debate whether Die Hard is a Christmas film—Knox says yes, William says absolutely not, Travis abstains—and praise my cooking until I'm blushing again.
"This is amazing," Knox says for the third time. "Seriously, Carina. You're a genius."
"It's just chicken in wine sauce."
"It's perfect," William says quietly, and something about the way he says it makes my stomach flip.
After dinner, we move to the living room. The fire crackles, snow piles against the windows, and I find myself curled in an armchair with a glass of wine, listening to the three of them tell stories about past storms, past Christmases, their shared history.
"What about the year Knox tried to sled off the roof?" Travis asks.
"I was twelve!" Knox protests. "And it would have worked if Will hadn't tattled."
"You would have broken your neck," William says. "I saved your life."
"You ruined my fun."
"Same thing."
I watch them bicker with affection. This morning, I was terrified of being snowed in with them. Now... now I don't want the storm to end.
"What about you, Carina?" Travis asks. "Any childhood snow stories?"
"Not really. I grew up in California. Snow was something we saw on TV."
"Well, then we'll have to make sure this week creates some good memories," Knox says.
Later, as I get ready for bed, I realize the tightness in my chest has disappeared. For the first time in longer than I can remember, I'm not anxious about tomorrow. Not worried about doing something wrong or being judged.
The storm rages on, but I'm not trapped anymore. I'm exactly where I want to be.