Chapter Thirty-Three
Thirty-Three
The familiar wooden cabin stands as I left it—stoic in the falling snow, unchanged by time—while everything in me has shifted.
In the year since I last stood on this porch, I’ve dismantled my entire life and rebuilt it on my own terms. Brick by brick, I laid the foundation of the life I was meant to live.
It's taken me so long to reach this moment. Four years of wanting what I couldn't have, fighting what I shouldn't have denied, all while trying to be someone I was never meant to be. The woman who feared happiness, who believed she didn't deserve it—that woman’s gone.
I told James that I needed to find myself before I could find us, and that's exactly what I've done.
Starting my own family practice meant stepping into a life that had been waiting for me.
I still remember my first client, the moment her shoulders relaxed when she realized she wasn’t alone.
I've reclaimed friendships that withered during my marriage. Jules remains my cornerstone, but now she’s surrounded by a constellation of other connections: running groups on Saturday mornings, book club every third Thursday.
The brownstone I bought is filled with overstuffed chairs, thriving plants, and color bursting from every corner.
It’s the opposite of the sleek condo I shared with Mason.
So many times, my fingers hovered over James’s name in my contacts, but I never touched it. Not because I didn’t want to reach out, but because I needed to finish what I started.
And I didn’t want to give Mason any fodder if he challenged my divorce proceedings or custody requests.
I kept our communication cut off, hoping it would lessen the chance Mason would fight back.
In fact, James and I have had no contact in a year, until two days ago when a text appeared out of the blue:
Skating Stud: I’m at the cabin. Can you come on the 22nd?
Now, two days later...I’m standing on the precipice of the life I’ve spent the last four years dreaming about. I asked him to wait. I hope his text means that he has. I take a deep breath, pushing down the stomach-curdling fear that he hasn’t.
“Is Unca J here already?” Anna asks, bouncing on her toes.
“Should we go inside and see?” I keep my voice light despite the weight of what awaits.
Jules is the only Wallis who knows the whole story.
I’ve been helping maintain the illusion, not for Mason’s sake, but for Anna’s.
Every time Gary and Margaret visit, Anna and I play along like a happy family.
I’ve been pressuring Mason to tell them the truth for months.
Finally, he asked me to come for one last holiday, promising we’d tell the family in person.
I think he hopes this place might pull me back into his world. This place is magical, but it’s not miracle-working because that’s never going to happen.
Together, Anna and I walk into the cabin, ready to face whatever comes next.
The quiet strikes me immediately. No kids racing down the hall, no laughter from the kitchen.
Green garland wraps its way up the staircase, mistletoe dangles, and white twinkle lights frame the windows.
Margaret’s touch is everywhere, but she’s nowhere to be seen.
Even Anna hesitates, staying close, feeling it too. A strange hush that doesn’t belong here.
“Kind of eerie, huh?” a deep voice murmurs from behind—his voice.
The sound of it, low and familiar, wraps around me before I even turn.
Goosebumps ripple across my skin as the timbre sinks in.
Rougher than I remember, maybe deeper. Or maybe it’s that I’ve missed it for so long.
I don’t have to look to know he’s smiling.
“Feels like the setup to a thriller. A man, a woman, and a child enter a quiet wooden cabin.”
“Unca J!” Anna shrieks and crashes into him.
I turn slowly, finally allowing myself to look at him. He’s kneeling to catch Anna, his arms open wide, that dimple deepening as she launches herself at him. The sight hits me with a wave of certainty. While this year has been everything I needed, one thing is missing. Him.
“Hey, Bug,” he says, scooping her up. His eyes lift to mine over Anna’s head. “I missed you.”
“Hi,” I say simply, feeling strangely calm despite the storm in my chest.
“Hi.” His voice is carefully neutral and utterly infuriating. “Can I help you carry your things upstairs?”
A question, not a statement or demand, and a reminder of how low my expectations had sunk, how carelessly Mason treated me. With James, I’ll always have the choice.
“Thank you.” I pass him one of the bags. “I’ve got the rest.”
“Margaret and Gary are in Florida,” he says, voice even despite the anxious way he keeps rubbing his beard. “But they’ll be here tonight.”
I look over at him as I ask, “Where’s Ivy?”
“I don’t know. Not sure if she knows I’m even here.”
Before I can respond or ask any of the million questions I have, Anna jumps in.
She begins chattering about snowmen and sledding and whether Santa knows she’s here.
James responds to each thought seriously, as if her concerns about reindeer navigation systems are the most important thing in the world.
“I’ll make some coffee,” he offers as we reach the doorway. “Can we talk?”
I meet his eyes and see the nerves behind his cool exterior. “Okay. I’ll be down in a bit.”
***
Anna has long since crashed for a nap, her tiny body curled beside me in peaceful stillness. I lie there, watching the snow fall faster than when we arrived, thick flakes swirling in the gray afternoon light.
The room has been redecorated since I was here a year ago.
Cascading eucalyptus wallpaper in the lightest shade of green lines the walls.
Replacing the large sleigh bed is a new sleek platform with a tufted headboard the same color as the walls.
It's been moved, now placed to more easily gaze out the windows flanking the corner.
A toddler bed sits opposite filled with colorful blankets and pillows.
I’m gathering my courage for the conversation waiting downstairs.
Vera’s given me glimpses of his year, broad strokes and careful words.
All I know is that he ended things with Ivy, and he’s been focused on work.
I calm my mutinous stomach, and I find him in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, his fingers drumming against the granite.
His eyes meet mine, but instead of his lopsided grin, I’m met with hard lines.
He pushes off from the counter and reaches for the coffee pot. “She’s asleep?” he asks, offering me a mug.
“She was exhausted from the early flight.”
We stand in awkward silence, a year’s worth of distance pressing against us.
“Ivy and I aren’t together,” he finally says, setting his mug down. “I thought my mom or Jules would’ve told you.”
“They did. But I’m confused. Why are you here?”
“Gary called me a few days ago. They were having a hot tub put in, and something happened. They were in Florida and needed someone they trusted to check out if the foundation was damaged. Couldn’t find anyone local who could do it. Called me in a panic.”
“Oh.” I pause. Not sure I want to ask my next question, but I gulp down my fears and ask anyway. “Did you know I was coming when Gary called you?”
“Mom’s told me bits and pieces about what’s going on with Mason and you. She said you were coming here for one last Christmas.”
“Yes. That’s why I’m here. To tell the family, Mason and I are over.”
“Right.” His voice is carefully neutral again. “And I suppose you’ll head back to D.C. after.”
I nod, uncertain where this is going.
“So this is... closure for you? Tying up loose ends?” The edge in his voice sharpens. “Because it’s been a year, Sydney. With no word from you. Not even a text.”
“I was doing exactly what I said I needed to do.”
“And did you?”
“I think we should talk after I’ve had a chance to collect my thoughts.” I set my mug down, feeling my throat constrict, nails biting into my palms.
“Sure.” Disappointment flashes in his eyes. “Take your time. It’s not like we haven’t had plenty of that already.”
“That’s not fair.”
“None of this has been fair.” He runs a hand through his hair and looks out toward the mountains, pausing before pinning me in place with a flash of eyes darkened by pain. “You asked for time, I gave it to you. But I didn’t think that meant complete silence.”
I walk away to gather myself. But I stop before I reach the doorway. This is what I would do before. Run. Escape. Deflect. That’s not who I am anymore.
When I turn back around, his eyes lock onto mine. I step forward until I’m inches in front of him and reach up to run my fingers along his tense jaw.
“I’m sorry. I don’t need a minute to collect myself. I’m just… nervous.”
His body softens hearing those words. I feel the tension drain from him as he finally breathes, releasing air he'd been holding. His hands span my waist as he sets me on the countertop and steps between my dangling legs.
“James,” I start, but his head dips, and a strangled noise escapes me as his nose brushes the crook of my neck, his breath warm against my skin, sending a shudder through me. He tentatively presses his lips to my skin. A deep groan rumbles from his chest, reverberating through my entire body.
“I’m sorry I didn’t reach out,” spills out of me. “I was worried what Mason would do if he learned of this. I didn’t want to give him anything more to hold up the divorce or try to change our custody agreement. The family doesn’t know about any of it. Only Jules.”
James inhales deeply and exhales even slower. He cups my face in his palm. And for the first time since I got that text from him, I take a long, filling breath.
“So you came here because Gary needed help?” I ask, trying to understand.