Chapter Four
Every few kilometers, there’s a lake pretending it’s not stunning and I wanted to slow down because this was the kind of beauty that demanded eye contact. The trees whispered things you’re pretty sure were encouragement or maybe gossip. Hard to tell.
As Lake Louise approached, the mountains closed in a little and the road straightened, confident now, because it knows where it’s going and it’s bringing you with it.
It was the fastest, most scenic section of roadway I’d been on. When Tristan maneuvered the van into the paid parking lot, sliding it neatly between a pair of high-end automobiles, I was grateful for the chance to catch my breath and breathe in the natural beauty.
He cut the engine and celebrated like he’d parallel parked a yacht.
“Lake Louise, three forty-five arrival,” he announced, smugness dripping off his words. “Oh, pardon me, three forty-six. You may now disembark and enjoy your overpriced coffee and breathtaking views.”
I raised an eyebrow and grabbed my drink, holding it like it was gold. Based on the price, it very well could’ve had gold sprinkled within the dark roasted beans. “I thought Mr. Bigshot Winery Owner would’ve had valet parking at the Fairmont.”
“Alas.” He sighed, unbuckling. “They told me all the stalls were reserved for celebrities.”
“So what are you doing parked here?”
His grin flashed, boyish and maddening, and I followed him out of the van before anything stupid flowed out of my mouth that could possibly reveal my still lingering high school crush.
“Shall we?”
“First, I need something from my suitcase.” I walked to the back of the van.
“Anything you need. An Ortega? A Shiraz?”
“Actually,” my voice lowered with a tinge of embarrassment. “I want the moose I packed in there.”
“You packed a moose in your luggage? No wonder it’s so heavy.” Mocking the weight of my baggage, he pulled it close to the edge with a heavy sigh.
I unzipped and retrieved the stuffie.
“DON’T MOOSE WITH ME, eh?” He tapped the white shirt of the stuffed moose. “Appropriate. Is there a story there, or some random, impulsive airport purchase?”
“Both.”
He leaned against the van after pushing my suitcase back in. “I’m all ears.”
I sighed and stared at the moose. “Every time the kids and I travelled, I’d use one of their stuffies as our trip mascot. If it was my son’s, we used his MonCow; a stuffie that was a cross between a monkey and a cow.”
“Perfect name.”
Glancing up he was smiling so I continued.
“I agree. If it was my daughter’s stuffie trip, we used Monkey-Monkey; a Curious George knock off.
” I wasn’t sure why I was sharing so much of this, but regardless, my mouth continued to spill.
“Each trip, the stuffie was in many pictures, and at the end of the holiday, I made the kids a little keepsake album with all the photographs.” To this day, it was still one of their favourite albums to flip through.
“Well then, Mr. Moose needs to be a part of this.” Tristan winked. “Shall we show him Lake Louise?”
“Yes, please.”
The air was thinner here, crisp and sharp, smelling of pine and cold stone. We joined the trickle of tourists heading up the path, the crowd thinning as the lake came into view.
I stopped dead. If the highway had been breathtaking, then Webster needed a new word for this.
The turquoise water stretched out like liquid glass, cradled in the arms of jagged peaks frosted in snow.
Even in May, the mountains still wore their winter jackets.
For a second, the chatter of other visitors, and the scrape of gravel under footwear faded.
Never in my whole life had I seen anything of this magnitude.
Stunning wasn’t even the right word. Perhaps there wasn’t even the correct expression for what lay stretched before us.
No wonder it was called the Jewel of the Rockies.
“Beautiful, huh?” Tristan said softly.
I glanced at him, except he wasn’t looking at the lake. He was watching me, steady, like he was memorizing the moment. The soft, almost reverent look in his eyes caught me and for one wild second I felt like returning the smile would betray someone so I looked away first, because of course I did.
I forced a scoff. “It’s... fine. You know. Pretty enough.”
“Liar.” His grin widened. “Your mouth says fine, but your eyes say Disney princess on her first day outside the castle.”
I elbowed him, but my cheeks were warm, and I hated that he noticed.
We wandered closer, taking the path around a cluster of rich trees that edged the lake. Groups of people, most chattering away in languages I didn’t understand, jockeyed for position, phones and cameras lifted high.
Tristan grabbed my coffee, setting it on the stone pathway, and pulled his phone from his pocket and turned it toward us.
“Souvenir selfie.”
“Oh, no. Absolutely not.” I dismissed the idea with a strong wave of my hand. “Mr. Moose, yes, of course, but I don’t need to be in any.”
“Spoken like a true mom. Come on. You’ll regret it if we don’t.”
An uncontainable laugh burst out. “I’ll regret it if we do. My selfie face looks like I swallowed a lemon.”
“Perfect. I love lemons.” He held the phone high. “Ready? One, two—”
The inhaled fragrance of the nearby pine trees tickled the inside of my nose and before I could stop myself, I sneezed unexpectedly. The picture caught the top of his hair and a blurred image of my ear.
“That’s hilarious, but since we can’t tell who’s in it...” He flipped it back to camera mode. “Let’s try again. This is history in the making. Two old friends reunited.”
“It’s humiliation in the making,” I whispered since I hadn’t even applied mascara that morning. I was as plain as I could possibly be, like a typical workday. No muss, no fuss.
We tried again. And again. Either his arm was too short, my hair caught the breeze, I lost the grip on Mr. Moose, and one tragic angle had me squinting like I was in pain.
But the outtakes were hilarious. With each flip I started laughing, really laughing; the kind that bubbled up and refused to be tamped down.
Careful. This is how it starts; the laughter, the ease, the slow slide into wanting more than you should. You have a life waiting at home. Two kids who didn’t ask for complicated.
“Excuse me,” a woman’s voice interrupted. A mom in a bright parka stood nearby, her husband wrangling two squirming kids. “Would you mind taking one for us?”
“Of course.” Tristan was already moving, her phone in hand. He crouched down and coaxed the kids to smile.
“Would you like some out of the ordinary photos?” I asked the lady.
With a quick tilt of her head to her husband, she agreed.
“Okay. Here’s what I’m thinking. You all line up there. Mom, Dad in the middle, with a child on each end. All face the lake.” I turned to Tristan as they got into position. “Okay, you’re up. Take the pics.”
He snapped a handful of pictures like he’d done this a thousand times.
“What about you two turning to look at each other?” I gestured to the woman, having more fun directing the pictures than I should’ve.
They were a willing family and humoured me with each suggestion I pulled from a memory book of photos someone had taken with me and my kids, when they were a little younger than these kids were.
Sadly, no romantic lead was beside me in those stills, but I had my kids, looks of total happiness, and that was enough.
Beside me, Tristan kept clicking away.
“Perfect,” I said as the mom walked toward us and took her phone back.
She thumbed through these. “Wow, these are perfect. Thank you so much,” the woman said, relieved. “Now let me return the favor please. Let’s get one of you two.”
“Oh, that’s not—” I started, but Tristan had already handed her his phone and was standing at my side, arm sliding around my shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world.
He whispered under his breath. “Thirty seconds, remember?” With his megawatt smile giving off its own glow, he nodded to the lady. “Perfect idea. Thank you. We’ve been unable to capture this moment.”
“You’re slick, mister,” I said as a smile as natural as the scenery slid onto my face.
I gazed up at Tristan, staring into the depths of his eyes while they held mine, feeling a strange mixture of intimacy and exposure with each passing blink.
The sunlight caught in the stubble along his jaw, glinting off a streak of silver near his temple that hadn’t been there ten years ago.
A slight crinkle formed in the corners of his eyes moments before he burst into laughter.
In a heartbeat, the seeming awkwardness had passed and a lighthearted moment rolled in to take its place. I couldn’t help myself, and my own giggle burst free.
The mom snapped a variety of photos, apologizing for the sunlight sneaking out from behind the clouds and how she felt she hadn’t captured the perfect picture.
“I’m sure you did wonderfully. If you got us in there and some of the background, you did perfectly. Thank you.”
“Enjoy your visit,” she said and walked over to her family.
Tristan peeked at the screen, before slowly angling it toward me.
The photo caught us mid-laugh, his head tipped close to mine, the lake blazing blue behind us. It looked... easy. Natural. Like we belonged together.
My heart kicked hard enough to make me want to laugh it off, but the image burned anyway, proof of something I shouldn’t want.
“Not too shabby, eh?” He gave me a nudge.
“It’s easy when you’re blessed with rock star good looks.” The words slipped out way too easily.
“I was going to say the same about you.” He sent a knee-weakening wink my way.
Coffees in hand, we drifted to a bench near the water, letting the serenity of the place wrap around us. The lake rippled faintly, clouds skimming shadows across its surface. I hugged my paper cup of golden coffee, while warming my hands.
“Hard to believe we used to think the Athabasca River was impressive,” Tristan murmured.
I smiled faintly. “Hey, don’t knock the Athabasca. That was the backdrop to my entire teenage existence.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Same.” His voice softened, almost wistful.
I stared at the water. “You know, I thought my life would look different by now. I was so sure I’d end up a doctor. But then...” I trailed off, shrugging. “Life reroutes you sometimes. Safe choices kept the kids fed, the bills paid. Safe was survival.”
“Anna.” His tone was gentle. “You’re an ER nurse. You save lives for a living. That’s... not exactly a consolation prize.”
My throat tightened. For a moment, his knee brushed mine, and I didn’t move away. The air between us shifted, charged and fragile.
A child’s panicked shout broke it.
“Mom, my bear!” A little girl on the platform pointed helplessly as a pink bear bobbed on the cool waters.
Before I could blink, Tristan was already moving and snagging a long branch from the ground like this was some kind of Olympic event.
“Tristan! Wait!” My voice came out sharper than intended, adrenaline firing before my brain caught up.
He balanced on the slick rocks, leaning dangerously far, the branch dipping toward the toy. His boot slipped and my stomach dropped as if it were me teetering over the edge.
“Don’t you dare fall.” My voice cut through the chatter around us, edged with every ounce of ER authority I usually saved for drunken college kids trying to leave against medical advice. “I don’t have the supplies to patch you up.”
He flashed that maddening grin, like risking hypothermia for a stuffed animal was no big deal. With a flick of his wrist, the bear’s pink scarf hooked over the stick. Triumph.
The little girl grabbed her wet bear and hugged it tightly and the flustered mother whispered thank you before turning to her child and scolding her under a harsh whisper.
When Tristan straightened and our eyes met, his grin faltered. My pulse thudded in my ears, and for one ridiculous second, I couldn’t tell if I wanted to shake some sense into him or kiss him dizzy with relief that he hadn’t been hurt.
For a heartbeat I debated my unanswered choice until a bus driver’s voice carried over the crowd: “Last call for departures! Bus 117. Five minutes!”
Tristan blinked, shouldering the branch like a soldier with a spear. “Guess that’s our cue too. We need to beat the mass hysteria about to descend upon the parking lot and delay our departure.”
I nodded, pulse still racing for reasons that had nothing to do with schedules. We fell into step together, the lake fading behind us, but the silence between us clung like mist on the water.
And I couldn’t decide what scared me more; that he’d almost fallen into Lake Louise ... or that I might be halfway falling for him already.