Chapter 2
Two
Carly
With a sigh, I bury my face in my arms, trying to protect my nose from frostbite. Call me vain, but I’d like to keep it where it belongs—right in the middle of my face—and it currently feels in danger of snapping off.
I think of Millie and Lauren, hoping that their holiday plans are going better than mine. After growing up in foster care, I hadn’t thought I’d ever have a family. But then I met them in college, and we became as close as sisters.
For a long time, they were all the family I needed.
But lately, I’ve found myself yearning for a family of my own.
For a baby of my own.
If it’s true that your biological clock starts to tick in your early thirties, by forty, it’s a death knell. I can practically hear the bells clanging in my head as my ovaries shrivel up and die.
I’ve considered fostering or adopting. I’ve even visited fancy sperm banks. Places where you can choose a donor based on everything from his IQ to his body type, hair and eye color, spirit animal, and which Hogwarts house he’d be sorted in. Some even offer handwriting samples.
Just punch in your selections and voilà! One green-eyed Gryffindor with lovely penmanship and an Ivy League education coming right up!
It's not for me. Call me old-fashioned, but I want the baby and the father. Unfortunately, I’m running out of time, and Mr. Right is nowhere to be found.
So, when I cracked open that stupid fortune cookie and read the words printed on the paper, I felt a sudden surge of…hope.
A deal’s a deal.
And William Jones did promise to marry me if we were both single at forty.
It only took a few minutes of internet sleuthing to discover that William still lives in Mercury Ridge.
Neither he nor his brothers have social media profiles, and his sister’s are locked down tighter than Fort Knox.
But I struck gold with The Mercury Ridge Gazette, which has article after article dedicated to his work with Mercury Ridge Search and Rescue.
None of the articles mentioned a wife.
Finally, I found an article from last year, highlighting William as one of the town’s most eligible bachelors. There was a photo, a closeup of his beautiful, bearded face. His expression was serious—just as it had been when he made the vow to marry me at forty.
A local hero, beloved by the community, with CPR training and first-aid skills…how’s that for husband—and father—material?
A few minutes later, I’d discovered his address and added it to my phone’s contacts—just in case I ever had a reason to return to Mercury Ridge. It wouldn’t hurt to pay an old friend a visit, right?
Then I pushed the thought aside, recognizing it as nothing short of lunacy. I couldn’t just show up at his door out of the blue and propose marriage…could I?
No. Of course not. It was out of the question. Especially since I want more than marriage.
I want the baby in the baby carriage.
How do you explain that to a man?
But when my plane landed in Charlotte, just a few hours’ drive from Mercury Ridge, visiting William suddenly didn’t feel so preposterous. It seemed inevitable. Like it was meant to be.
Only now, I’m stuck in a tree, on the verge of dying of exposure, and he’s nowhere to be seen. When my frozen corpse falls from the tree, will he be the one to find me? Or will the dogs drag my body into the woods? No one knows I’m here. Maybe I’ll just disappear forever, never to be seen again.
Finally, I hear the crunch of gravel under tires, the telltale sound of a car coming up the driveway. A minute later, a large pickup truck with an extended cab pulls up next to my rental car. Through the windshield, I can see that at least two people are inside.
He’s not alone…
Dread settles in the pit of my stomach. I flatten myself against the tree branch, no longer in a hurry to be discovered.
The passenger door opens, and a woman with ivory skin, pink lips, and long, red hair slides out. Even with her body hidden beneath a large winter coat, it’s clear that she has curves for days.
Unable to pry my eyes off of her, I watch as she opens the backdoor of the truck. She fumbles with something for a moment, and then there’s a plump baby in her arms. A girl, if the baby’s puffy, pink snowsuit is any indication.
The woman kisses the baby’s face, and the baby giggles and coos in response.
And then William is there by their side, looking even better than he did in high school. The gangly teenager is gone, replaced by a tall, rugged man. The sleeves of his flannel shirt are rolled up to his elbows, exposing muscled forearms. His thick but well-groomed beard is new, too.
New within the last twenty years, anyway. My fingers itch to comb through it.
But he’s already taken. Not only that…he has a family.
William tickles the little girl’s neck, and she bursts into a fit of giggles. The gorgeous woman laughs, a happy sound that causes a bubble of jealousy to form in my chest.
The flash of emotion sends a surge of heat through my body, and for the first time in what feels like hours, I no longer feel numb with the cold.
“Do you know who this car belongs to?” the woman asks William, pointing to my rental.
“No clue,” he tells her. Then he raises his voice, “Hello? Is someone here?”
Now’s the time to yell back, to announce my presence and be rescued from the wild dogs.
Neither animal has left their position at the foot of the tree, though they’ve stopped barking and stare at William with their tails wagging.
At his presence, they’ve morphed from vicious, barking beasts into seemingly docile pets.
“Get the baby inside,” William tells the redhead. “I’ll carry in some firewood for the woodstove.”
He walks past my tree, trailing a hand over each dog’s head to pet them as he passes by on his way to the woodpile.
Lifting the tarp that protects the chopped wood from the elements, he removes several pieces. Arms loaded with firewood and snow gathering on his broad shoulders, he heads back to the cabin to provide for his perfect family.
It’s like a scene from Little House on the freaking Prairie.
One of the dogs jumps against the tree trunk, renewing his barking efforts. William freezes in his tracks. “What is it, boy?”
I watch in horror as he follows the dog’s gaze up the length of the tree. He sees me, jumping back in shock. The wood falls from his arms, clattering onto the ground.
“Who’s up there?” he calls, steel in his tone. “This is private property, and I’m armed.” He holds a hand up to his eyes to shield them from the falling snow, peering up at me. His face, always so serious, even as a teenager, looks downright terrifying now.
I never should have come here.
Stupid fortune cookie…