Chapter 18
Emma
The chilly air hits me the moment we step outside, a shock after the warmth of the cabin. My breath fogs in the early morning air, and I tuck my chin deeper into the collar of my puffer coat.
The vineyard stretches out around us in neat rows, the bare vines silver-white with frost. In the distance, rolling hills fade into mist. It’s beautiful, with the sun slowly warming the sky but pink and orange strips still lingering from the earlier sunrise.
“You sure you don’t want to just drive?” Theo asks, pulling me against his side as we start down the path.
“Absolutely not. It’s beautiful out and I intend to enjoy every bit of it. A little cold isn’t going to kill us.” I wink and he shakes his head, laughing softly.
We passed a cute looking coffee shop just down the road from the vineyard on our way in yesterday, and it looked to be about a thirty minute walk, so this morning we decided to bundle up and head out for coffee.
Our boots crunch on the frozen path, neither of us in any hurry.
Happy and in love and radiating after last night, I feel like I’m glowing from the inside out and everyone who sees me must be able to tell.
As we round a bend near the edge of the property, a small wooden shop comes into view with a hand-painted sign that reads “Cascade Carvings.” Out front, a collection of chainsaw sculptures stands on display, including a black bear, an eagle with its wings spread, a salmon leaping upstream, and an orca breaching out of an invisible wave.
“Chloe would love that one,” Theo says, nodding toward the orca, and I smile.
The sculpture screams Chloe, and I get a funny small pang that she’s not here.
That she doesn’t know about any of this yet.
“You know,” he continues, as though he’s reading my mind, “we should probably talk about Chloe. How we handle things with her.”
I squeeze his hand. “I’d like that. What are you thinking?”
“I think we tell her.” He smiles down at me. “After the festival she hasn’t stopped asking when we’re all going to hang out again. She adores you. And this isn’t some temporary thing for us.” He glances at me like he’s checking and I smile.
“No,” I say. “This definitely isn’t temporary.”
He nods. “Good. Then it feels wrong to keep it from her. She’s already so attached to you, and pretending you’re just her teacher when you’re not.
..” He shakes his head. “It felt right for a while, to keep her world stable. But now I feel wrong not having her know. Especially when I know how thrilled she’d be. ”
The thought of Chloe knowing, of the three of us being some kind of unit, makes my heart feel fuller than I ever thought it could. I squeeze his hand. “I’d love that more than anything.”
He pulls me closer. “Then I’m going to tell her when we get back, and then maybe we can all have dinner together.”
“That sounds perfect,” I say, and it really does. I lean my head against his shoulder, and we walk on toward the coffee shop, the vineyard glittering around us.
A few days later, I sit in my car outside Theo’s house for a full minute before I can make myself get out.
This is ridiculous. I know Chloe. I adore Chloe.
She’s been my favorite student since the first week of school, this funny, brilliant, opinionated kid.
I’ve spent time with her at school, at the fall festival.
I know this child. I care about this child deeply.
But tonight I’m not showing up as Miss Hayes, her first-grade teacher who makes learning fun and lets her talk about marine biology during free time. Tonight I’m showing up as Theo’s girlfriend. And for some reason, that distinction has my stomach doing somersaults.
I glance at the passenger seat where I’ve set the tin of cookies I spent all morning baking, my Swedish grandmother’s recipe, the same butter cookies with cardamom and pearl sugar that she taught me to make when I was Chloe’s age.
Mormor was the one who gave me my love of European candy, who sent me packages of Swedish licorice and chocolate when I was away at college, whose giant care package of imported treats ended up scattered across the post office floor the day I literally bumped into Theo Midnight and changed my life forever.
I take a breath, grab the cookie tin, and walk up to the front porch. The house and yard really are beautiful. Theo’s built a lovely home here, and as I walk up the steps, I smell something incredible coming from inside.
Before I can even knock, the door flies open.
Chloe’s standing there in leggings and an oversized sweater with a whale on it, her dark hair pulled back in a slightly lopsided ponytail that suggests she did it herself.
She’s practically vibrating with excitement, bouncing on her toes, her whole face lit up like Christmas came early.
“You’re here!” she squeals, the words coming out as one long excited sound.
“I’m here,” I confirm, laughing at her enthusiasm as she launches herself into a hug. I squeeze her tight, and every bit of nervousness I had evaporates, replaced by something that feels a lot like coming home.
“I’ve been waiting forever,” Chloe informs me, grabbing my hand and tugging me through the entryway. “We’re having sustainably sourced salmon with a lovely flavor profile.” I cover a laugh at that, fairly certain she’s quoting her Uncle Alex verbatim.
We round the corner, and there’s Theo. He’s at the stove with his back partially to us, stirring something in a pan that’s sizzling gently. The kitchen smells like butter and herbs and the whole scene is so warm and domestic. He looks up when we come in, and his face breaks into a smile.
He sets down the spoon and crosses the kitchen toward me. “Hey,” he says, and then he leans in and presses a quick kiss to my cheek. “You look lovely.”
“Ooooooh,” Chloe squeals, dissolving into giggles. She looks between us with obvious delight, like she’s watching her favorite movie.
Theo laughs and reaches down to ruffle her hair affectionately. “Okay, you little stinker,” he says. “Go grab the appetizer from the fridge. Show Emma what we made.”
“Okay, Emma follow me!” She scrambles over to the fridge and I follow as she pulls open the door with both hands, tugging out a platter of bruschetta topped with what looks like whipped ricotta and honey. She holds it up, beaming at me like she’s presenting a trophy.
“Wow, that looks so good,” I say. And it really does. My lunch was a sad sandwich from the convenience store, so I resist the urge to grab the entire platter and devour it right then and there.
“Thanks,” she says, setting it carefully on the counter. “This is one of my favorites that Daddy and I make.”
I set my cookie tin down next to the platter. “Well, I brought dessert. These are my grandmother’s Swedish butter cookies. She taught me how to make them when I was about your age.”
“That’s really cool,” Chloe says seriously, but I can’t tell if she’s referring to my grandmother or the cookies. Based on the way her eyes are looking at the tin, I’m guessing the cookies.
Theo heads back to the stove to check on the salmon and I catch his eye, smiling. He winks at me before turning back to the pan. Chloe grabs small plates from a lower cabinet and sets one in front of me, then places a piece of bruschetta on it with careful concentration.
“Smaklig m?ltid,” I say. “That’s what my Swedish grandmother always said before eating. It means enjoy your meal.”
Chloe’s face goes serious. “Smock-a-leg mole-teed,” she says confidently, nodding once like she nailed it.
Close enough. “Perfect,” I tell her before taking a bite of the bruschetta, the flavors hitting me all at once—creamy ricotta, sweet honey, a hint of thyme. “Oh my god,” I say. “This is amazing.”
Chloe’s face lights up. “Dad, she likes it,” she reports.
“I heard,” Theo says, looking pleased as he sets a lid on one of the pots. “Why don’t you tell Emma what else we’re having while I finish up here.”
“Okay,” Chloe agrees. She climbs onto one of the stools at the kitchen island and pats the one next to her, indicating that I should sit.
I settle in beside her, stealing another piece of bruschetta.
“So for the main course we’re having cedar plank salmon, which I already told you about, with a citrus glaze that has orange and lemon and a little bit of honey.
And roasted vegetables, which are brussels sprouts and sweet potatoes and shallots.
And there’s going to be rice but not boring rice, it has herbs in it. ”
“That sounds incredible,” I say.
“Daddy’s a good cook,” Chloe says matter-of-factly. “Mayyyybe not as good as Uncle Alex, but still.”
I chuckle, looking over at Theo, who’s doing something with a pan that involves a lot of confident wrist-flicking.
“Thanks, bug,” he says to Chloe. “No one’s as good as Alex, but I’ll take what I can get.” Then he looks at me. “Would you like a glass of wine?”
I nod and he reaches for a bottle on the counter and pours me a glass of something white and golden while Chloe and I both take massive bites of bruschetta. I think I could eat fifty of these. Theo hands me the glass and I take a sip.
“It’s a Vee-og-nee-ay,” Chloe informs me seriously, pronouncing each syllable like she’s reading off a cue card. “It pairs well with salmon because the stone fruit notes complement the richness of the fish without overwhelming the palate.”
I nearly choke. “I’m sorry, what? How do you know that? And did you just say stone fruit notes?”
“Yes. It also has hints of apricot and honeysuckle.” She takes another bite of bruschetta, completely casual, like she didn’t just sound like a sixty-year-old wine critic.
“Uncle Alex taught me. He says most people drink Chardonnay with fish but that’s boring and a Vee-og-nee-ay is more interesting. ”
“Chloe.” Theo says it with all the weariness of a man who has raised a precocious kid single-handedly for years.
“What?” Chloe asks innocently. “He said it, not me.”