21. CHAPTER 21
Jeremy
The morning’s chill nips at us as Zuri and I disembark from the ski lift, our boots shuffling into the untouched snow. April is not usually busy with its hit-and-miss snow, and this early, barely anyone’s out yet. The mountain’s northern side is less populated but still as beautiful. I’ll be taking Zuri there this afternoon if she wants to hit the more challenging trails.
The rising sun casts a luminous alpenglow over the familiar peaks, transforming the slope into a shimmering expanse.
“I guess waking up early means I can fall without an audience.” The navy wool scarf covering her mouth and neck muffles her lighthearted comment. “Lexi and Olivia won’t believe I was up skiing at six a.m.”
“I’m so proud of you.” Especially considering I hadn’t given her much notice when I texted her late at night, and she responded this morning willing to ski this early.
“I take it you and Sonya caught up with your past last night?” Her voice holds an edge.
Jealous? Perhaps she’s as into me as I’m hoping. My chest swells. While I’d like to update her about last night’s events in her absence, I’d rather leave Sonya and the exhaustion that comes with her out of this moment.
“You’re here with me, not Sonya,” I say. Does that fully convey the depth of my focus and affection for her?
“You go first.” She moves her ski pole to the left, shifting her ski along with it.
“You don’t think you need me close by?” I seek her face hidden behind her goggles and scarf, but I have to imagine her smile.
“We’re going to move slower if you wait for me.”
As asked, I take the lead, glancing back to ensure she’s close. She’s hesitant at first, slow, but she seems to remember the basics. Angling her skis, leaning into turns, which is what it takes to get through the slope.
As we glide down, her initial hesitation melts away, replaced by a burgeoning thrill as she kicks up the speed and her joyful laugh echoes around us. Her bravery and zeal draw me all the more, and when we make it down, we agree to take the lift again for another run. But first, we seek comfort in the warm cabin and hot chocolate. Adrenaline surges through me at Zuri’s excitement to hit the slopes again. A few people have shown up, but not enough to crowd the resort. So we queue for the lift, ready for another exhilarating descent. Then a familiar figure hurries up.
“Mind if I join you?” Sonya leaves no room for denial. Dressed in a white hat and jacket, as pristine as the snow itself, her presence casts a chill over me—her intentions likely not as pure. Her impeccably disastrous timing seems as if my brief spell of happiness conjured her presence. She climbs into the lift with a dramatic entrance and seems like she’s stumbling, so I catch her to help her back in.
“Thanks, Jeremy.” The morning breeze carries her words as the lift starts its ascent.
“Hi, Sonya,” Zuri greets.
“Oh, Zuri.” Sonya turns her head back, acting as if she just noticed Zuri’s presence. She waves dismissively, then eyes me with Zuri seated next to me. “It was fun catching up with Jeremy last night.”
With tension brewing, I don’t say anything. Neither does Zuri.
We jump off the lift. Before we can embrace the slope, Sonya stumbles into my chest as if she’s had a tumble. I have to stagger to get my balance as I extract her off me.
I sense Zuri’s assessing gaze. But I’m not confident enough to look at her, especially when Sonya stands on my other side raving about how talented I am at pool.
Great!
“I was hoping maybe tonight Zuri can let you off the hook again, so we can utilize the Jacuzzi.”
My hands tighten in my gloves. Enough is enough. It’s time to end whatever game she thinks she’s playing.
I look at her through my goggles. “Sonya, we need to talk.”
“Of course,” she sings out, apparently having no clue of my brewing anger. “That’s what I want too.”
“I’ll meet you two down there.” Zuri launches herself down the slope with a grace that belies her learner status. Anger seems to fuel her skill, leaving me between frustration and admiration.
I’ll catch up with Sonya’s drama later.
“Wait, Zee!” My voice barely catches the wind as I shift to set for her, but Sonya’s grip halts my momentum. At the sudden pullback, my skis skid, and my balance wavers again. I lean toward the snow, planting my poles and skis to steady myself.
“What do you want from me?” The question escapes in a burst of anger, my patience worn thin. I pry my arm free from her grasp. I lower my thermal scarf from my face so nothing can muffle my words or obscure their meaning. “You jilted me. I moved on.”
“I thought we could talk.” She lowers her ski mask to her neck. “Try again.”
Her words are read from the script of Mom’s playbook.
“Did my mom put you up to this?” I shift my skis to create a safe distance between us, irked by visions of her throwing herself at me and kissing me the way Lucky kissed Gavin to upset Hope. Being friends, Sonya and Lucky share the same tactics.
“You eloped with another guy without as much as a breakup. Now, you think you can waltz back into my life?” My rising voice must betray my frustration. “Do you see me as some kind of backup plan?”
Her jaw drops. She mustn’t have anticipated any resistance.
“Did you think I’d be here waiting for you to decide?”
She fumbles with her gloved fingers. Her insistence on reclaiming my attention now seems even more misplaced.
“I’m sorry for everything.” Her apology is somewhat hollow, but it’s relieving to get an overdue apology in any form.
“Don’t be. You have your life, and I’ve moved on too.” I shouldn’t have barked at her in the first place, but seriously!
She nods, a silent acknowledgment passing between us. Then she presses her lips together. “Zuri is lucky.”
“I’m the lucky one.” If I can figure out a way to work on my speech to tell Zuri I’ve fallen deeply in love with her. But I did that with Sonya, and look where it got me. Back to square one.
Yet Zuri is different from Sonya. I know that deep down. Maybe I’ll tell her after she opens her café, when she’s not distracted from starting a business.
“As long as we can always remain friends?” Sonya’s voice pulls me back.
“What choice do I have?” I wave toward the cabin, hinting at the unchangeable family dynamics where past relationships linger like unwelcome guests. “Our families are friends.”
“Race you down?” She quirks a brow, her tone light, and pulls her ski mask over her mouth and nose.
“That I can do.” My competitive spirit ignited, I reposition my scarf, determined to claim this victory as my own. With my skis and poles firmly in the snow, I descend the slope, a flurry of motion, and ski past her, crossing the finish line first, though she’s right behind me.
“How do you always win? You hardly ski in California,” she asks as we make our way to the wooden shelter where a few people are sliding on their snow gear.
“Just because Mom doesn’t fill you in on everything about me, doesn’t mean I don’t find time to hit the slopes.” Honestly, I pretty much save skiing for whenever I come home.
“You were always the adventurous one between us.” She laughs, reminiscing about a time when my impromptu ski escapades left everyone worried and amazed.
This time, her laughter is more relaxed than forced. I’m glad we talked things out instead of me ignoring her.
Zuri is standing on the lodge’s porch. Her bright blue coat, one of the spare ones we keep in the cabin for guests, complements her skin tone and fits her perfectly, emphasizing her well-balanced figure. Man, she looks so fun to hold.
She’s taking pictures, or so I think until she glances my way. Then I sense the storm of emotions assailing her face—sadness, disappointment, perhaps even betrayal. Ouch, that strikes a chord within me.
Does she feel sidelined or threatened by Sonya? If so, I must mend the oncoming rift between us.
“Meet you back at the cabin for breakfast.” Sonya’s words fade into the background as I make my way to Zuri.
But Zuri turns, pretending to take a picture and acting as if she can’t see me.
“Hey, Zee.” I set down my skis and shove my gloved hands into my pockets, hunching against the uneasy weight hanging between us.
She finally faces me when I stand beside her. Her half-hearted attempt at a smile lacks the usual sparkle in her vibrant eyes. “Ready to head back?”
I nod. How’d I get into this mess of an ex and a fake engagement turning far more real than I anticipated?
Zuri’s skis were rentals, which leaves me carrying my set as we navigate through the early skiers bustling into the shop. We make our way to Gavin’s Forester in the lot.
Opening the door for her, I sense her quiet resignation as she slides into the passenger seat. After loading the skis and settling behind the wheel, I kick up the heat, and the blasting air drowns our silence. Then I back out of the nearly empty lot, easily navigating around the dozen or so other vehicles.
“Why did you bring me here if you still want to be with your ex?”
Whoa. Thrown off by the accusation, I draw in a slow breath. “Where’s that coming from?”
“Where do you think? I thought I was supposed to be your buffer. Instead, you used me to attract her attention. Now, you two are laughing like you reconciled. She can’t seem to keep her hands off you, and you’re right there to catch her as soon as she falls.”
My grip tightens on the steering wheel as if I can steer the conversation away from this impending collision. Mom and Sonya’s manipulations are exhausting enough without Zuri losing it on me. “Look, Zee, I’m already stressed with everything. I don’t even see why you’re mad.”
“I’m your fake fiancée. I get it.” She twists the ring on her finger, and it stirs an unexpected reaction.
“I like it when you act jealous.” The words escape me before I can gauge their impact. “No more fake-fiancée act.” At least I’m not the only one falling.
She sits silent, her hands folded and her gaze on the winding road. Then I come to the stop sign before turning on the loop to our cabin, and she huffs. “You may forgive me if the months of hanging around you and kissing you made me get carried away. Some of us have feelings.”
“I do too,” I say. I want to elaborate, but our drive ends too soon when I pull the car in front of the ski cabin. Once I park, she swings open her door and exits with a haste that leaves me trailing, and my attempts to call her back are lost with her retreating footsteps.
I almost catch up at the entrance as the front door closes behind us. But Hope and Gavin, seated at the island with steaming cups, greet us. The warm interior is a stark contrast to the chill settling in my heart.
The kitchen teems with life, pans clanging and food sizzling. The sausage, eggs, and bacon aromas mix with the coffee scent in the air. Despite the feast, my appetite for reconciliation is what needs to be fulfilled. Zuri’s cold shoulder as she asks Hope and Gavin to be excused forecasts a stormy day ahead. How are we to navigate the next three days as a “couple”?
As the day unravels, Zuri ensconces herself in her newfound companionship with Hope, Dad, and Aunt Patty, ignoring me. When she sits far from me during lunch and dinner, my heart clenches. Perhaps she needs a break—it aligns all too well with our departure from the cabin that evening.
Yet, this perceived need for distance doesn’t deter me from gravitating toward her in the back seat. There’s ample space, yet I scoot to the middle seat to close the gap between us, to bask in her presence and the subtle fragrance that is uniquely hers.
This proximity, while soothing, is equally agonizing when she drifts off to sleep, her head finding rest on my shoulder. Her warmth seeping in through my flannel is a bittersweet torment I willingly endure.
The spell breaks as we pull up to Hope’s house. Zuri awakens, her movements quick and disoriented. She pats down her rumpled hair, a soft murmur of apology escaping over her unintentional closeness.
“I wasn’t complaining,” I say as she tears out of the car and rushes for the sidewalk. No, I can’t let her leave like this. I need to bridge whatever gap has formed between us, to reassure her no apology is necessary for such a tender, fleeting connection. But she’s gone. I slide into the front passenger seat before we back out of the driveway.
“Whatever you did to Zuri must be really bad.” Gavin guides the car on the narrow road to his house.
“Playing pool with Sonya last night wasn’t my best idea.” I grip the back of my neck.
“You got your answer.” Gavin must be revisiting our conversation from last night. “That’s your cue she’s into you. A fake fiancée wouldn’t be bothered when you hang out with your ex.”
I don’t have to say anything because that makes sense.
For the first time, I’m looking forward to tomorrow’s dinner at Mom’s house. Zuri will talk to me the moment Mom’s cold welcome sets her uneasy. It’s a lousy thought, but what choice do I have?
But the next day, we don’t have to pick up Hope and Zuri to drive with them to Mom’s house. Hope’s friends and bridesmaids drive them and join us that evening. I only get a fleeting hello from Zuri. With Mom disregarding her manipulative seating chart tonight, Zuri sits with Hope and her new friends at the long table by the fireplace. Her avoidance stings more than I care to admit, a silent rebuke for yesterday’s missteps.
At least, I’m seated next to Gavin, and Aunt Patty’s on the other side of Gavin with Dad and Mom across from us. With nine of us at a table for twelve, a few empty chairs remain between us and where Lucky and Sonya have seated themselves at the end of the table. After returning from the cabin, some people needed a break and went back to their homes, intending to return to the wedding at the event center rather than stay the night.
Now, servers carry loaded trays of food and place platefuls before us. My mother stands and summons everyone’s attention. The murmurs turn to silence.
“Gavin is going to, um, pray for us.” Despite the day’s adventures, her hair is perfectly in place. “You’re the reason we’re gathered here tonight.”
A silence descends upon both tables as he prays. A few collective amens resound afterward, so I’m glad to add mine now that I know why people pray before eating.
The towering decorated cake on the other side of the kitchen makes this wedding more realistic.
“For some reason, all your grandparents decided to get here tomorrow,” Mom grumbles, moving her fork through her steaming pasta. Dinner was simple tonight, salmon and pasta with baby broccoli. “That means we’ll have the rehearsal dinner before your bachelor party.”
“As long as we’re done by seven.” I rest my fork on the salmon, and my gaze flicks to the other table. Zuri’s head tilts back as she laughs with the other women, her eyes sparkling with unrestrained joy.
I recognize two of the women, wives of our friends. The guys stayed home to put their kids in bed and let their wives come here tonight.
If only Zuri was laughing at something I said. Her gaze finds mine as if she’s aware of me looking at her. She nods before looking away.
Laughter at our table pulls me back. Maybe it’s the lighthearted meal or whatever it is, but Mom appears relaxed as she recounts some of Gavin’s childhood memories. Childhood adventures that have Dad and Aunt Patty laughing.
“Not that long ago, Gavin turned the backyard into a mud-wrestling ring.” Mom’s blue eyes twinkle as she shakes her head.
“And Jeremy, always the faithful sidekick, jumped right in without a second thought.” Dad lifts his drink in a toast. “ I recall your mother looking at you both covered head to toe in mud—she was too overwhelmed to get upset.”
“Don’t tell me you laughed about it?” Aunt Patty, in her brown coat, wags her Diet Pepsi.
“Crazy as it sounds, I laughed.” Mom beams as if the memory is like yesterday, yet I was nine and Gavin eleven.
“But you still scolded us for ruining your flower garden,” Gavin says.
As the remnants of the summer rush into my mind, I wag my fork at Mom. “You made us work with the gardener to replant those flowers if my mind serves me right.”
“Since then, I make sure the gardeners plant the lilies in perfect rows.” She’s smiling at me.
I must smile too. I’d been very particular with the gardener on how I wanted the rows planted straight. The man had to inquire of Mom if he could do as I asked, instead of the zigzag pattern previously used.
Mom has some flexibility when she chooses. Like then, or how at the cabin and tonight she ignored the seating chart. My parents are wonderful, and I have no doubt they love us. I don’t like how Mom disrespects Dad at times and he lets her get away with it. But they’re still together, so I guess their arrangement works out just fine.
We continue talking and laughing, and our chatter and laughter mingles with the clinking of silverware against porcelain.
Then the doorbell shatters through, and everyone falls silent.
Mom calls for one of the servers to answer the door. Soon, a loud bark resounds as something black barrels straight for the kitchen, charging with the fervor of a storm. Mom squeals. “Don’t tell me that’s a dog.”
We all pivot as the dog launches itself at the cake and topples it from the stand.
I leap, and so does Gavin. “The cake!”
“Oh no, Trent!” Aunt Patty mumbles, and concern fills me. Yes, for the cake, but also because Trent’s long-awaited return isn’t going to be a smooth welcome now.
In confusion, we walk to the kitchen. Morgan’s attempting to shoo the dog. One of the servers stands still in shock with hands on her cheeks.
“Get this dog out of here!” Mom’s command is louder than her clicking shoes as the Lab spins around, moving to the kitchen, seeming to look for something else to tear apart.
“Buster, no!” Trent emerges, dressed in a floral-print top, his long hair pulled back in a ponytail. He rushes to his dog. “Bad dog!”
“Well, that’s not going to help us now, is it?” Her face red, Mom pivots to Trent, now holding his dog by the collar. “You didn’t make reservations, and you show up with your rowdy dog—Where in the world am I supposed to get a wedding cake one day before the wedding?”
Trent winces, scanning all our faces. He waves at me and then Gavin. “Not the best reunion, is it?”
“We’ll figure something out,” I promise, being the best man, although I have no idea if a small-town bakery is capable of rescuing us on such short notice. Trent was never one to plan ahead, so I’m not surprised when I ask if he has a leash for his dog and discover he has none.
Gavin requests one of the workers to get the dog water as Trent vanishes with the Lab. “I’ll keep him in the car for a while.”
We’ll need to figure out where the dog is going to stay the night. But I have other things to figure out first, like getting a leash.
My gaze flicks to the icing and sponge carpeting the floor. The room is silent, still, and I call Morgan as he pulls out the drawers. “You can make a cake right?”
“I’m no baker of wedding cakes.” Morgan crosses his arms over the chef’s coat, his brown skin glistening in the light. He doesn’t need to take off his chef’s hat for me to know his hair is more gray than black. He’s been our chef most of my life. “Not to the standard Mrs. Kress expects for a wedding.”
“I can bake the cake.” Zuri steps up, looking at me with sincerity, and as my heart starts beating wildly, I almost forget what we’re discussing until she speaks again. “I took a wedding-cake class once.”
“This is a wedding cake we’re talking about.” Mom wrings her hands, shaking her head, disapproving.
“I want Zuri to make the cake.” Hope clasps Zuri’s hand, smiling. “The girls and I will help.”
“As long as it’s not a boxed cake.” Mom yields, her gaze darting between me, the disaster, and Zuri.
“That’s if you all have a grocery and hobby store. Point me there so I can get the supplies.”
I nod. “I’ll drive you.”
“Can we go now?”
She’s serious, so I glance at the stove. It’s seven thirty. “The hobby store might be closed, but the grocery store is probably open.”
“If I can get the cakes baked tonight, they’ll have time to cool. Then tomorrow we can focus on frosting and decorating.”
I block out everyone’s words as I walk toward Zuri and catch the keys Gavin tosses me. Several voices shout out thanks to Zuri for the attempt. My mom, doubtful, claims she’ll still try to call Delia’s Bakery to see if they can make a cake on short notice. The bakery is thirty miles from Pleasant View, so I doubt her solution will work.
Zuri is our main plan—my whole plan.
In the hallway, I take her hand and stop walking. She halts. Her long maxi dress flows around her ankles with her movement and fits her trim figure in all the right places.
“I don’t like when you ghost me.” I use the words she used when I created a distance between us.
“I haven’t ignored your calls.” She looks at me with those guileless eyes that send my blood thrumming.
“I’m sorry if I said something to upset you.” I tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and she shivers. I have no idea what I’m even apologizing about.
“I’m sorry for getting upset for no reason.” Her gaze flicks to my mouth before refocusing on my eyes, and I muster all my self-control not to pull her in my arms, snuggle her cuddly body, and kiss her. She rolls her eyes and resumes our walk. “I was a bit jealous. But I’m good now.”
Does she mean she’s good because she’s moved back to our fake status or she’s figured out that I like her? I settle for lifting our entwined hands and kissing her fingers. Whatever unfinished business is between us, we might have some time to resolve in the car or during this cake debacle now that she’s finally talking to me.