Chapter 13
KEZ
Christmas Eve is here. Charlotte and I have been lazily draped on the couch under blankets since after lunch. Ember’s sprawled on my lap, snoozing away, my hand resting on her belly. I’ve come to enjoy our unspoken routine the three of us created.
Charlotte glances toward the window. “When did it start snowing again? And this hard?”
I peer outside. Snow’s falling almost sideways, leveling nearly every surface I’ve shoveled. “Looks like we’re snowed in. Again.”
“Guess you’re stuck with me for Christmas Eve.” She grins at me over her book, the same one she was reading the other day in the library.
She offers me a cookie from the batch we decorated a few days ago. I take a bite. “I can think of worse places to be stuck.”
“Me too,” she laughs, setting the plate back on the side table. “Like airports. A fear I didn’t realize I even had until recently. I couldn’t imagine being stranded in a busy airport on Christmas Eve because of a blizzard. I’m glad Rory made it out on time.”
A few minutes pass. Charlotte switches positions, her head now resting in my lap. She puts her book down. “I always wondered why it is called Mistletoe Mountain? I haven’t seen a single mistletoe.”
My lips tug into a smile. “It’s a bit ironic, isn’t it? Believe it or not, mistletoe is actually a parasite and bad for trees. Local folklore. Allegedly, couples who kiss on Mistletoe Mountain end up married.”
That gets her attention. She tilts her head back. “Really?”
I raise my hands in resignation. “That’s what they say.”
“Interesting. Someone should fact check that.” She eyes me like she wants to say something, but doesn’t. Instead, she reaches up and steals the other half of the cookie dangling from my mouth.
I reach for it, but it’s already gone. I should be offended, but I laugh instead.
Ember stirs awake from our commotion and jumps to the floor. We’re giggling again, and I’m reminded that, these last two weeks, I’ve really enjoyed Charlotte’s company and am glad she’s here. Our eyes hold. I dip down and brush our lips together. Spending Christmas Eve just like this seems perfect.
I yawn, stretching my arms over my head. Settling back into position for more prime couch rotting with Charlotte, I adjust my shirt, then place a hand at the base of my neck to realign my necklace out of habit.
I touch bare skin. Nothing’s there.
My stomach drops. I frantically pat my chest, shaking out my shirt, hoping something falls loose. Still nothing.
“What’s wrong?” Charlotte straightens, her face says she’s just as alarmed as I am.
“My necklace.” I whip around to both sides, digging in the couch cushions. When’s the last time I had it? This morning? Yesterday? “I can’t find my necklace. It was my dad’s.”
“Oh, no.” Charlotte lifts from the couch. “I’ll help you search. Let’s retrace your steps.”
Panic sets in. We tear the cabin apart. Couch cushions fly. I check the floor where I used to sleep. I searched the bed. I even checked my keepsake box, knowing it wouldn’t be there. I look around in disbelief.
“We’ll find it,” Charlotte reassures me, but I’m not hopeful.
Ember follows me from room to room, hot on my heels. Her demeanor shifted as if she senses something’s wrong. An hour passes, and we still haven’t found it.
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I pause and think. The last place I remember wearing it was—
No. I peer outside, stomach dropping to an unthinkable depth. We built a snowman yesterday. I wrapped the scarf I had around my neck onto the snowman that looked more like a snowmouse. Maybe my necklace snagged and is still attached? It’s a stretch, but I’m desperate.
As if Charlotte read my mind, she’s already grabbing our coats.
Ember’s pawing at the sliding door. I bend down and pet her. I can’t think of a better time to put our training to use. “Can you help me find my necklace, Ember?” She barks and I nod. Mission accepted.
The harsh wind blasts through our bones the moment we step outside. Snowdrifts pile high against the cabin exterior. Ember takes off toward the tree where I set out food for the animals.
We reach the destination, but the snowman is no longer standing, crumpled into two mounds of snow. The carrot nose and half the sticks are missing. The scarf’s nowhere in sight.
I bundle up tighter. All I see is white. Suddenly Ember barks.
I whip around and dart to the tree she’s sitting in front of. I drop to my hands and knees to dig, mirroring her movement. A carrot and a stick that looks familiar unearths.
Charlotte yells words I can’t understand through the wind and points to my right. Ember emerges with something red in her mouth.
The scarf.
She drops it at my feet.
“Good girl, Ember. Thank you.”
I search the scarf. Flip it over. Shake it out. Nothing. My chest tightens. I dig around the base of the tree. The thought of losing one of the last items my father gave me punches me in the gut.
For a moment, I wonder if Duke would’ve been able to locate the necklace, but that’s not fair. Ember tried. She found the scarf, which I’m grateful for, but it’s too late. How could I have been so careless?
Charlotte places a hand on my shoulder and offers a sympathetic smile. “I’m so sorry. I don’t think we’re going to find it out here, though. Not in this weather.”
She’s right. Sitting here freezing won’t change anything.
It certainly won’t bring back my necklace or change the fact that I have to return to work the day after Christmas, leaving the cabin behind.
I finally wake up from the fairytale life I’ve been having with Charlotte. My world feels like it’s crumbling.
I stand and wipe my cheeks, but only toss snow on them. We walk back toward the cabin when Ember suddenly bolts.
She turns into a brown and white blur, racing toward the tree line at the edge of the property.
“Ember, stop!” I yell out, but she doesn’t. I sprint after her, leaving Charlotte behind me without saying a word. More commands surge from my throat, but nothing changes.
I keep my eyes locked on my puppy. She’s just ahead of me as she cuts through the open space between the cabin and the trees.
I can still see the cabin behind me, maybe fifty yards back.
Charlotte’s voice calling after us carries on the wind, but I don’t stop running.
The thought of losing Ember on top of everything else brings a sharp pain to my chest.
She reaches the tree line and disappears into the pines.
I follow her in. It’s darker here, the thick branches blocking some of the falling snow. I can still see her ahead, weaving between trunks.
Her barking cuts through the trees. I push through the branches toward the sound. She can’t be more than twenty yards into the woods.
My chest heaving, I find her at the base of a massive oak. She’s sitting, barking at a hole in the tree trunk. The exact cadence I taught her.
I drop to my knees, breathing hard. “Fuck. When did you get so fast?” I look closer. Raccoons? Their masked faces peer out from inside.
I’m both mortified and impressed. Ember just treed her first animal.
“We really have to work on your timing,” I tell Ember and scoop her up, relieved to have found her amongst the blizzard. My jeans are soaked through, and my chest aches from running in more ways than one.
I turn back the way I came. Through the break in the trees, I see the cabin clearly. The clearing between us and home. Charlotte’s standing at the edge of the tree line. Right where the fence posts are located. She’s not moving, just staring at me.
I glance around. My chest tightens when I realize where I am.
I’m on the wrong side.
The property line disappeared the moment Ember took off. Although I don’t regret my decision, the truth that I officially forfeited my rights to the cabin and my family memories crushes my spirit.
Charlotte and I meet each other’s eyes across the clearing again. The wind eases, snow falling softer now. I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out.
Charlotte lifts her foot.
Time slows as she steps over the property line.
My breath catches. Why would she give up the cabin when I already had?
She takes another step and then another, the snow coming up to her calves, but she doesn’t stop. She keeps walking toward me through the clearing.
When she reaches me, I can see everything on her face. The weight of what just happened. What we both did.
“Are you okay?” Charlotte asks, her voice soft, while looking between Ember and me.
I set Ember down. She immediately starts sniffing around the base of the tree.
“The cabin’s yours.” My words come out rough. “Congratulations.”
She takes my hand. “I didn’t want to win this way.”
I meet her eyes, full of emotion. “What do you mean?”
“I didn’t want the cabin if that meant losing you.” Her voice cracks. “That’s not winning. Not to me.”
I motion toward the cabin, a lump forming in my throat. “What about your business? Your dreams?”
We’re both sniffling.
“The cabin is every bit yours as it is mine. Your love paints every single wall. I wouldn’t feel right living there without you in it.” She squeezes my hand. “Stay. We’ll figure out the rest.”
“Charlotte. I crossed the property line. It’s done.”
“I don’t care.” She lets out a sharp breath. “We’ll fight it. Hire lawyers. Contest the clause. Whatever it takes, Kez. Just stay. Please.”
I try to process what she’s saying. I don’t think I can.
She steps closer, her jaw wobbles. “Stay.” Vulnerability covers her face. Raw, open and terrified.
One word. I realize that she’s asking again. Just like she tried years ago, and I ran, thinking I knew what was best for her and me. I was an idiot. The woman I love is asking me to stay and not only fight for the cabin, but for us.
The wind picks up for a few seconds, then dies down. Snow catches in her hair and on her eyelashes.
“Charlotte, we may have dated for almost three years, but I’ve loved you my entire life. I never wanted to leave then,” I say, peering into her beautiful eyes. “And I’m not leaving now. I promise.” I rest my forehead against hers. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me.
Her lips are cold against mine, but her mouth is warm. She tastes like sugar cookies and salt from tears. I pour everything into our kiss. All the years apart. The fear of losing her again. The endless love I have in my heart right now. Our second chance.
Ember barks.
We break apart, laughing and crying at the same time.
Charlotte looks down at Ember, who’s staring up at us. “Excuse you. We’re having a moment here.”
Ember barks again and sits. Perfect form.
“Good girl,” I say, my voice wrecked.
Charlotte’s still holding onto my jacket.
I plant a kiss on her lips again, taking in the winter wonderland around us.
I didn’t plan any of this. Not a cabin clause that forced us back together.
Certainly not chaotic corgi who turned my life upside down.
We make a great team. And I definitely did not plan on falling madly in love with Charlotte Harrington all over again.
Sometimes the most unexpected things turn out to be the most beautiful. When I examine my life, I see that now. With Charlotte’s hand in mine, Ember at our feet, our home waits for us with love and warmth and the promise of figuring it all out together.
I kiss Charlotte again, smiling against her lips. I turn us toward the cabin. “Let’s go home.”