Chapter 6
CAMILLE
My phone buzzes beside my laptop. I’ve been working in my study for hours, and my new novel is finally starting to take form.
It’s about time, too. My agent has been buying me more time for months now.
If I don’t get it together soon, I’m going to disappoint a lot more than just my editor.
My fans are relying on me to get this book done.
The release date has been delayed twice already, and I can’t delay it again.
I’ve already made them wait too long for the final installment to the series.
I glance out my window to an unfamiliar sight. Large snowflakes are falling from the sky. A thick layer already covers the ground. I had no idea it’d still be snowing in April. It wasn’t something I thought about before I chose northern Montana.
Nothing like starting a house renovation in the middle of a snowstorm. At this rate, my driveway will be impassable by morning.
I hope not. I’m excited to see Adam again.
A few weeks have passed since we went to Kalispell and ordered the kitchen cabinets and appliances.
We shared a lot on the trip, and I feel closer to him than anyone else right now—including all of my friends and most of my family back home.
Aside from Rachel, he’s the only local I really know well.
Adam and I talked several times about supply deliveries and start dates, but we never managed to find the time to meet in person.
On the days I planned trips into town, he was out working on other projects.
I’m disappointed we keep missing each other.
I sense he’s disappointed, too. Every time he’d call, he’d find some reason to stay on the phone with me.
Usually to tell me about some of the parks and hiking trails he loved or the summer festivals the town held.
We’ve made plans to visit these places once the weather improves.
I’m both excited and nervous about what that could mean.
Is he just being nice, or could these be considered dates?
But tomorrow he’ll start work on my house. Assuming this snow doesn’t stop him from coming.
Then, I’ll see him almost daily for however long this takes.
It could take months.
My willpower is about to be tested.
Despite my excitement, I’m nervous about seeing Adam.
He stirs emotions in me I’m not ready to deal with.
Soon, I’ll have no choice but to face those head on.
I’m not very good at dealing with my emotions.
I refuse to talk to anyone about the loss I endured when that accident took my husband and son.
Hell, I didn’t even tell Adam about Alex because his loss hit me harder than losing Mark.
The only person I open up to is my daughter.
Telling Adam about Mark is a huge step for me. I’m even surprised I said anything.
As far as I’m concerned, it isn’t anyone else’s business how I feel. If I want to share, I will. Trying to force me to talk about it only pushes me away. It’s one of the reasons I had to move. My family and friends wouldn’t let it go. I needed to move past this last phase of mourning in peace.
Maybe that’s why it was so easy for me to tell Adam. He didn’t ask. In fact, he refused to. He respected me enough to not push me. That’s all it took to get me to talk.
My phone buzzes again, and this time I pick it up. I smile when I see Lizzy’s name on my screen.
Lizzy: Are you up? Just checking to make sure you’re okay.
Lizzy: I hope your silence means you’re asleep. You need more sleep. Love you! {heart emoji}
It’s after midnight. I smile at her concern, but it's her that should be in bed. It’s after two on the east coast.
She’s always been the mother hen type. Even more so after Mark and Alex died. I type out a quick reply before I unhook my laptop and head upstairs to finish out my night of writing in bed.
Me: Nope, still up. And I’m fine. Getting lots of writing done. Why aren’t you in bed?
My phone buzzes almost immediately after hitting send.
No doubt her response is going to include something about my lack of sleep again.
I’ve never gotten much sleep, but my sleep patterns got worse after the accident.
I slept next to the same man for twenty-seven years.
My empty bed is a constant reminder that I’m alone and might very well be for the rest of my life.
I reach my bedroom and toss my laptop on the bed before checking my phone.
Lizzy: I’m glad, but you’re working too late. I’m going to bed now. You should, too.
Me: Alright MOM. I’m heading to bed.
Lizzy: {Kissing Emoji} I need to visit you soon. I miss you. Plus, I’d love to see the chalet.
Me: YES! I miss you so much. Just tell me when and I’ll have a room ready for you.
Lizzy: Working on my schedule. I’ll let you know.
Me: Sounds perfect. I love you.
Lizzy: Love you too. Goodnight, Mom.
Me: Goodnight, sweetie.
I drop my phone next to my laptop and get ready for bed. My mind is already too preoccupied with thoughts of Adam to sleep. Combine that with the promise that Lizzy is coming to visit, and I’m more awake than ever. If I’m lucky, writing will help calm my thoughts and allow sleep to take over.
I slip into bed, position my laptop on my knees, and yawn as I prepare to write.
Maybe I’m more tired than I realized. I stare at the last paragraph I wrote before coming upstairs, and my mind draws a blank.
All thoughts and ideas about where I’m going with this scene are gone.
All I see is Adam’s face. I close my eyes, and his sexy body and salt and pepper beard appear in my mind.
He’s hot and rugged and strong. His smooth beard, broad shoulders, and tattooed arm are all things I never imagined would excite me like this.
But they do.
Everything about that man excites me.
Adam’s smile is the last thing I see before sleep takes me.
A dull, full-body ache drags me from my slumber. Every inch of my body feels like tiny daggers are piercing my skin and hitting every nerve ending. Not daggers—icicles. Sharp, extremely cold icicles. I tug my covers closer around my body, but they do nothing to dull the pain being inflicted on me.
I’m freezing.
I open my eyes and take a deep breath.
I immediately regret it. The cold air burns my lungs, and I wince. When I exhale, my breath mists around me and clouds my vision.
What the hell?
My eyelids are heavy, and my body screams for more sleep. I pull the covers over my head, but that does nothing to warm me. It’s too cold for my body to relax.
I reach for my phone on the nightstand. 3:27 a.m.
Damn, what happened? It wasn’t this cold when I fell asleep a few hours ago.
Pulling the blankets around me, I crawl out of bed. My hands tremble, and my feet are numb. Convincing my legs to start walking is a challenge, but I manage to hobble down the hall toward the thermostat.
An error message flashes, and the heat indicator light is out.
Even worse, it reads thirty-seven degrees.
How can it be thirty-seven degrees in this house?
I hit the on-off button a few times, hoping it will trigger the furnace to kick on, but no such luck.
Either the thermostat is busted, or the furnace finally kicked the bucket. My bet is on the ancient furnace.
“Dammit.” I drop my head against the wall with a thud. I can’t use the fireplace in my bedroom unless I want to die of smoke inhalation. Adam made it perfectly clear that I couldn’t use that fireplace until it was repaired.
It’s moments like these when I start to think my family and friends back home have a point. I’m all alone in a drafty old house, freezing, and have no knowledge of the inner workings of a furnace.
At this moment, I’m helpless.
I hate feeling helpless.
“Come on, Camille. Think.” What would Mark do if he were here?
I rack my brain, tugging on my memories of him.
I keep Mark buried in the recesses of my mind.
Life is easier if I don’t let myself think about him and all the ways he’d made my life better.
While I’m independent and self-reliant, there were so many things Mark took care of, just so I didn’t have to think about it.
Even after two years, I still discover new things he did to take care of his family.
Some of them were simple things, like taking out the garbage, changing light bulbs, cleaning out the gutters, or making my coffee.
God, I miss him making my coffee. I knew he did these things, but until he was gone—and I had to start doing them myself—I didn’t realize how much I took those things for granted.
Especially my coffee. Mark started making my coffee in our first year of marriage. Every morning without fail, the coffee maker was cleaned out and ready to go. All I had to do was hit start. Mark didn’t even drink coffee. He did that for me because he loved me.
It’s the little things I miss the most. They make my heart ache.
But right now, I have a big issue, and I need his help before I freeze to death.
Breaker box! He would’ve checked the breaker box first.
With newfound hope, I make my way downstairs to the garage. The first floor feels even colder than upstairs, but nothing prepares me for the cold air that literally takes my breath away when I step into the garage. It nearly knocks me on my ass.
I’ve never felt temperatures this cold before. We experienced the occasional freezing night in Georgia every winter, but it didn’t feel anything like this. This is miserable, and I’m questioning my sanity for purposefully moving here.
Walking as fast as I can, I make my way through the pile of boxes I haven’t unpacked yet. I only trip three times and stop myself from falling two out of the three, which I’ll call a win.
The breaker box is on the wall next to the silent furnace. I flip the switch and pray that the furnace will make a noise when I flip it back on.
Nothing.
I repeat this process like something magical will happen the second time around.
Nothing.
Unable to take the cold a moment longer, I rush inside.
I can either go back to my bed and bury myself in a mountain of covers or try to start a fire in the one fireplace that passed inspection.
Problem is, that fireplace is in the back of the house with no furniture.
There’s no way I can move a couch on my own. I’ll have to sleep on the floor.
Being a southern gal, I’m not used to this level of cold. It doesn’t take me long to decide on the fireplace. Sleeping on the floor for one night won’t kill me.
I run upstairs and grab several blankets and pillows to make a bed. I also pick out some warmer clothes and soft fuzzy socks. I layer up like I’ve been dropped in the Arctic, and I’ll die if any of my body heat escapes.
Once back downstairs, I make my way to the back of the house. I haven’t done much with this part of the chalet yet. These rooms are large with gorgeous views of the mountains. They’ll make great meeting spaces for the writer’s retreats I hope to host one day.
I flip on the light and sigh in relief when I see the pile of wood and kindling next to the fireplace.
There’s a large woodpile along the back of the house, but the thought of having to go outside in this weather does not appeal to me.
I’m cold enough as it is. Going outside, even to get firewood, would turn me into an icicle for sure.
I cringe at the thought of dropping the blanket wrapped around me long enough to start the fire. I can’t imagine letting it go to walk outside in this storm.
It’s now or never. I toss the blanket aside and get to work.
My lips shiver, and my hands are numb. I can barely feel the wood between my fingers as I pile it into the fireplace.
I just keep moving and try not to think about how cold I am.
I focus every thought on the fireplace and getting it started.
Thankfully, this is something I know how to do.
When the kids were little, we’d done our fair share of camping.
Mark loved the outdoors, and camping was a hobby of his.
He taught me how to start a fire while he gathered the wood and set up the tent.
Within minutes, the kindling is blazing, and I add another log to the fire.
Flames kick up, and the heat against my face instantly relaxes my shoulders.
My front warms quickly, but my back remains cold.
I wish this room were smaller, so I can contain the heat better.
But this will have to do until Adam arrives in the morning.
Oh, God. Please let him be able to get here tomorrow. The snow was already thick when I went to sleep. If it's too dangerous for him to travel, I don’t think I’ll survive.
I curl up as close to the fireplace as I deem safe and attempt to squash the panic that consumes me. I’ll be fine under the layers of covers over me. I have plenty of wood and a working fireplace. I won’t freeze to death as long as I keep the fire going.
I stare at the bouncing flames hovering just above the embers.
Warmth washes over me, and to my surprise, I’m comfortable.
It’s been a long time since I curled up by a fireplace.
I always loved the warm glow and soft light of a fire.
It’s relaxing and romantic. I try to focus on that thought instead of all the fear my mind is fixating on.
Only nothing is relaxing or romantic about freezing in my own house, and I lose the battle against fear.
Sleep starts to weigh my eyelids, and my thoughts clear. I snuggle into the thick layer of blankets and smile. This isn’t so bad. The only thing that would make this night better is a pair of strong, warm arms wrapped around me.
For the first time in two years, I don’t think of my husband. I picture Adam curled up next to me instead—my body tucking in close to his, his face nuzzling my neck, and his arms holding me close and keeping me warm.