Epilogue #2
The place doesn’t even look like our shabby cabin anymore.
The fire’s lit, throwing gold across the walls.
Candles—actual candles—flicker on the window ledge.
There’s a hot pot in the kitchen and a tiny table by the fire with two place settings.
Real plates, not the usual scratched-up camping ones.
Steaks sizzle on a cast iron skillet, roasted potatoes glisten with butter and herbs, vegetables that look impossibly fresh.
Next to the table sits a basket filled with chocolate, bananas, and foil.
The usual overflow of my climbing gear and research junk has vanished, replaced by something soft and domestic. Too soft for a place this remote. We’re two days from the nearest supply drop, and somehow, she’s made it look like home.
“Where the hell did you get candles?” I peel off my jacket and hang it on the hook by the door.
“Can’t tell you all my tricks.” She tries to wink but ends up scrunching her whole face instead. She’s in just a pair of light pink long johns, unbuttoned down to her sternum. Her skin looks unbelievably soft. Her nipples pebble against the fabric. God, I’ve missed her.
“Clem.” I pull her in, resting my cheek against the top of her head. “Have I told you how much I love you?”
“Not enough.” Her voice is muffled against my chest before she tips up to kiss me.
Then she blinks at me from beneath her thick lashes.
“I know you’re tired and probably just want to crash, but I thought—I mean, you’ve been eating freeze-dried food for three days, and since Daisy’s doesn’t deliver this far—” She stops, biting her lip.
“But if you’re too tired, I can put everything away. ”
“No.” I hug her again. She squeaks in surprise, and I just hold her. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect. How did you—”
“You climbed a glacier for three days in sub-zero temperatures. I think I can figure out how to do something special for my man.”
“Your man. I love the sound of that,” I admit.
Her hands twist around my waist. “I wanted to take care of you the way you always take care of me.”
I don’t trust my voice, so I just kiss her. She melts into me, and I try to pour everything I can’t say into it—gratitude, love, disbelief that this person exists, that she chose me.
When we break apart, I notice that the copper tub that used to be filled with my gear is now full of steaming water, and more candles flicker along the rim.
“You’re kidding,” I say.
“The water’s probably getting cold.” She’s pulling me toward it, testing the temperature with her hand. “I heated it half an hour ago, if you wanna jump in while I finish dinner.”
“You planned this because you wanted to have a show while you prepped dinner, huh?”
“Or maybe it’s because I knew you’d smell like Mozart after he runs around in the rain,” she jokes. “Now jump in.”
“Only if you join me.”
“But you’re filthy.”
“You’ve never shied away from a little dirt.” I flick open another button on her long johns. “Not wearing a bra, my little fox.”
“Another gift for you, I guess.” She smirks. “Now get in, and maybe if you’re good, I’ll join you.”
I clench my jaw and obey.
Now that the adrenaline’s gone, exhaustion hits deep, but there’s a thrum of want under it. I strip off my layers, her fingers tracing over nicks and scrapes she’s cataloged before. She’s seen me naked more times than I can count, but her cheeks still flush, and it makes me want her even more.
I slide into the bath with a groan that sounds indecent, but I don’t care. The water bites first, then spreads heat through me, finding every ache and bruise, every place the cold got its teeth into.
“Good?” Clementine asks, settling on the floor beside the tub, her arms folded on the rim. She draws circles on my forearm with her thumb.
“If I died right now, I’d die happy.”
She laughs. “Don’t die yet. I made dinner.”
“Right. Dinner.” I let my head fall back. “Give me a minute to remember how to be human.”
For a while, we’re quiet. The fire pops and crackles, and outside the wind howls against the cabin walls. Everything glows—her skin, the steam, the reflection of the flames in the water.
“Tell me about the climb,” she says finally.
“It was good. Clean.” I open one eye to look at her.
“You gotta give me more than that. I want to hear everything.” She props her chin on her arms.
So, I tell her.
The water goes cold before I’m halfway through, and she ends up bringing the steaks to the edge of the tub.
“We bivouacked halfway up the first day. Slept clipped into the wall with the wind trying to pry us off.” I watch her eyes widen a little, like she’s trying to imagine it.
“You don’t really sleep. You just drift.
And what made it worse was that Nadra talked in his sleep the entire time. ” I chuckle, rubbing my forehead.
“That sounds terrifying,” Clem says, chewing on a piece of steak, eyes wide.
“It was. But easy. Easier than I expected without Finn. I missed him, but it felt good to be out in nature like that again. And fuck the summit. I mean, you saw how blue the ice is up there.” I rub her cheek.
“I used to think reaching the summit was the whole point. But coming down to you—” I search for the right word.
“It felt better than any peak I’ve ever reached. ”
“Alec.” She’s blinking fast, and I realize her eyes are wet.
“Too sappy?”
“No.” She laughs, wiping her face and setting the plate aside. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”
“Clementine.” I give her a look. “Are you done procrastinating? Are you ready to join me?”
“You’re exhausted. Your hands are pruney.”
“And I’ll be more exhausted if I have to get out of this tub to come get you.”
She’s already standing, pulling off her long johns. “You’re very bossy when you’re tired.”
“You have no idea.”
Water sloshes over the sides as she settles between my legs, her back to my chest.
“We’re getting water all over our cabin.”
“Who the fuck cares?” I plant a kiss on her shoulder, and she wiggles her warm body against mine with a lazy moan.
“So, Satie, what’s next?” she says.
“Not enough that I just got back?”
“I know you,” she teases. “I know you’re planning the next one already.”
She’s right about that. “There’s a National Geographic campaign in Kilimanjaro.”
“You want me there?”
“Clem,” I scold.
“Okay, yes.” She shifts to kiss me. “Yes, I’ll come anywhere with you and make any place a home for us.”
“Whatever you want.” I brush a strand of hair off her face. “You can buy as many throw pillows as you want.”
“Dangerous promise.”
“I trust you.”
“You really shouldn’t.” But she’s grinning. “I’ve already got my eye on this vintage Moroccan rug for the great room back home at the lodge. It’s ridiculously expensive and completely impractical, but it would look amazing.”
“Buy the rug.”
“What about the adorable teepee dog bed I found on Etsy?”
“How would Mozart live without that?”
“Alec!”
“I’m serious. Buy the rug, get the throw pillows, get our dog whatever he needs or wants, take over the whole damn lodge again.” I stroke her hair. “Make it ours. Make it home.”
Home. Her. Us. The life we’re building in the spaces between expeditions, in lodges and research cabins, at the dance studio and between her classes, and anywhere we can be together.
I press a kiss to her hair and close my eyes.
Tomorrow, we’ll fly back to the lodge. Tonight, in this small cabin at the edge of the world, we have everything we need.
Everything.