Chapter 21
LACEY
Time keeps passing in Montana.
It gets colder and colder out here, the trees flaming into brilliant orange, then dropping down into a deep, subdued red. Every time Max and I drive down the mountain, I practically hang out the window to try and get pictures to send to Vanessa. Max, obviously, is not a fan of this tactic.
When the temperatures drop low enough, Max surprises me with my very own flannel to match his. I slide it on, admiring myself in the mirror, but don’t get to wear it for long before he’s tugging me toward the bedroom and pushing the shirt right back off of me again, calling me his mountain woman.
He takes me fishing. We see a herd of deer crossing through the forest and I can hardly breathe because of how beautiful it is. Dona starts sitting in my lap instead of his, and I can’t figure out whether or not Max is pleased about it.
On a chilly Sunday morning in October, I’m sitting on my porch with a cup of coffee steaming into the frigid air, my feet stuffed into warm socks and thick, leather slippers, waiting for Max.
He had to pull himself away last night to finish a set he promised Warren for the store, and when I tried to come with him down to his cabin, he said he’d never get anything done. But he’s coming this morning to teach me how to chop my own firewood.
“I’ll do it for you, of course,” he’d said, waving his hand, then shrugging, “but I figured— just in case. And, besides, you need to earn that flannel.”
“But you already gave it to me!”
“Yeah,” he said, raising his eyebrows at me and making a rare dirty joke. “Suppose I did.”
I’m wondering how hard it would be to skip the firewood lesson and drag Max into my place when I hear the faint buzzing of my phone. For a second, I think it’s an insect, but then I remember it’s too cold and they’re all in hibernation.
“Hey, Mom,” I answer, and something cold creeps up into my throat.
It’s not that I’ve been avoiding her. It’s that I’ve gotten used to the slower pace of conversation out here.
The first week or two without constant connection slowed things down inside me, corrected something in my nervous system.
And now the idea of being constantly available — or even constantly reaching out for connection — sounds like a horrible idea.
“Good morning, Lacey!”
Her voice is simultaneously warming and anxiety-inducing at the same time. I rub my hand down the length of my jeans and suck in a breath, trying not to let it show.
“Morning,” I say, trying right away to steer the conversation in her direction. “How did that showing go?”
“Oh, it was fine,” she says off-handedly. “You know how it is with those tech bros. I knew it was a sale before he even walked in the door. His girlfriend loved the place.”
“That’s great,” I say, knowing the huge, ultra-modern house on the outskirts of the city must have fetched my mom a pretty penny for the real estate commission. Before I can think of another question to ask, she’s plowing ahead.
“Amanda was disappointed not to have you as a speaker this year for San Fran Female Empowerment.”
“Oh, I’ll have to send a card.” I don’t mean for it to sound flippant, but I worry that it does, so I go on, “I’m just so swamped trying to finish Jasper’s place…”
The truth is that I’m not swamped at all.
Being here, in the mountains just outside Low Pines, is the least swamped I have been in a long time.
And the cabin is essentially finished. Max is working on a few more pieces to fill in some of the rooms, and we’re waiting on some custom cushions to place on his beautiful furniture.
Other than that, and some minor decorating, I could list the rental this weekend.
The thought makes my throat thick, especially since I’ve stopped thinking about it as a rental and started feeling at home here. Each night when I sink into bed, I wonder what it would be like if I never left.
And then, as though my mouth has no idea what’s good for me, I hear myself say, “I was actually thinking of taking a sabbatical.”
My mom is quiet for a beat long enough to stop my heart, then she says, her voice so low I can barely make it out, “A… sabbatical?”
“Yeah. It’s like, taking some time—”
“I know what a sabbatical is, Lacey. What I’m wondering is what in the world would possess you to think that would be a good idea? A sabbatical — and for what? To waste away in Montana?”
I want to tell her that, with Max’s cooking, and without my habit of skipping lunch and dinner with meal replacement drinks, I’ve actually filled out a bit since getting here. I can tell in the way Max’s gaze lingers on my breasts and ass that I’m changing, and I like it.
“Well,” I clear my throat, knowing I have to tell her about Max and not wanting to. “I—”
She figures it out before I can get to the truth, and I realize I should have said something to her a long time before this. That I never should have let things get this serious with Max without mentioning it to my mom.
Because now, it looks like I’ve been keeping something from her.
And keeping something from her means that I’ve been doing something wrong.
“Lacey Nicole Aarons. Please tell me my intuition is wrong. Please tell me you are not risking your position at the company for a man. I’m sure Gaia is already not happy with how long you’ve been gone. How do you think you’re going to add a sabbatical to that?”
Feeling slightly petulant, I cross my arms. “Actually, they just offered me a promotion, so it’s not like—”
“When did they offer you a promotion? And why didn’t you tell me about it?”
I stall, knowing it’s as good as admitting I’m guilty. Deep down, I know this doesn’t make sense — that I’m a grown woman and I shouldn’t be reacting to my mother like this. But it’s always been this way. Her focus on my success is sometimes too narrow-minded to even consider my feelings, too.
“Lacey,” she says, and her voice drops down to something softer.
I can hear the worry in her voice, and it lowers some of my defenses.
“Please tell me that you’re at least… thinking this through.
Please don’t leave your high-paying position at your dream company for a man without at least considering every angle. And talking to me about it.”
Tears well up in my eyes. Growing up, this is what I heard again and again. That I would need to be careful around men. That they might say they loved me, get me pregnant, and disappear. Just like what happened to my mom.
This isn’t coming from a place of malice. It’s coming from a place of fear.
“Okay, I will. I promise I’m not going to jump into this thing.”
“Did you turn down the job?” she asks, voice thin.
“… no,” I admit, because as much as I’m enjoying my time in Montana, I still haven’t been able to send that final email.
“It’s not like I’m giving up on my career, Mom.
Who knows? Maybe I’ll be here for a few more months and decide I hate it.
Gaia has already told me they need me. I know I’ll have a place there for as long as I want it, and you know I love working there.
It’s my dream. It’s not like I’m jumping into this with no backup plan.
Hell, I’ll probably come crawling home to you soon. ”
“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” she breathes, but she sounds more relaxed, and I feel sick. Even though what I said wasn’t an outright lie, it definitely wasn’t truthful.
I’m not going back to San Francisco. At least, not to live there. I can feel it in my bones, the truth that I can’t give this place up. Not when I have Max.
Maybe my mom sees that as giving up on my job and current life, but I see it as moving toward something better. Jasper left me this cabin for a reason, and I’m taking full advantage of the opportunity this has given me.
We trade a few more things back and forth until my stomach starts roiling from the guilt of lying, and I have to get off the phone with her before I get sick.