Chapter 6
CHAPTER
SIX
SEBASTIAN
I wake before sunrise. The mountain has trained me to rise with the light, even after all these years.
For a moment I lie still beneath the blankets, listening.
The cabin settles around me with familiar creaks.
Wind brushes softly against the windows.
Somewhere outside, birds begin greeting the morning.
And Caroline is sleeping next to me. The thought makes me smile before I'm fully awake. I rub a hand over my face. I’m a fool. A complete fool.
I've known the woman for less than a day. Less than twenty-four hours. And somehow my first thought every morning is already going to be whether she's comfortable. Whether she slept well. Whether she'll smile when she walks into the kitchen.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed. "Idiot," I mutter to myself.
I pull on a pair of jeans and an old flannel before padding quietly into the kitchen. The coffee maker is the first thing I reach for. Within seconds, the rich smell of coffee fills the cabin.
I've always liked mornings. Especially mountain mornings. I catch myself humming as I pull eggs from the refrigerator. I honestly can't remember the last time I did that.
The cast-iron skillet warms over the stove.
Butter melts with a soft hiss. I crack eggs one-handed out of habit.
The yolks settle perfectly. Toast goes into the toaster.
Bacon begins sizzling in another pan. I even slice strawberries.
I have strawberries. I laugh quietly to myself. I've officially lost my mind.
Because somewhere between the bar and this kitchen...
I've fallen in love. The realization doesn't scare me as much as it probably should.
I love the way she laughs. I love the way she looks at my cabin like it's something magical.
I love that she tells terrible jokes with complete confidence.
I love that she grabbed my backside because she thought I might be carved out of wood.
The bacon pops in the skillet. I flip it. The coffee finishes brewing. Perfect. I pour two mugs.
A vibration interrupts my thoughts.
Bzzzz.
I glance toward the living room. Another vibration.
Bzzzz.
Caroline's phone sits on the coffee table where she'd left it before our walk. The screen lights up.
MOM
The word fills the top of the display in bold letters. I instinctively look away. Not my business.
The phone vibrates again.
The screen stays illuminated a little longer this time. A photograph appears behind the incoming call.
I freeze. No. My eyes narrow. No... That isn't possible.
I take one slow step closer. The woman smiling from Caroline's phone is older now. Her hair is lighter. There are faint lines around her eyes that weren't there twenty years ago. But I'd know that face anywhere. My stomach drops.
Barbara. My ex-wife. The woman who convinced me I wasn't enough. The woman who cheated on me with my best friend. The woman who shattered every reason I ever had for believing in marriage.
I stare at the phone. It keeps vibrating.
MOM
The word mocks me. No. No, no, no. My mind begins racing. Caroline said her mother had paid her fiancé fifty thousand dollars. Caroline said her mother was chasing another husband. Caroline said she'd been married so many times she'd lost count.
I'd laughed. I'd even said I'd heard my ex-wife had married several times after me. My blood runs cold. All those stories. All those details.
They fit. Every single one of them.
Wait… she can’t be my daughter? I do the math in my head. Caroline told me she’s 21. I left Barbara twenty three and a half years ago. Ok. No. The math doesn’t add up… thank god. But still.
The room suddenly feels too small. I grip the edge of the kitchen counter. Think. Think. If Barbara is Caroline's mother...
Then... I close my eyes. The realization crashes over me. I'm the ex-husband. Not just any ex-husband. One of the many. One of the men Caroline grew up hearing about. One of the marriages that failed. One of the ghosts haunting her childhood. My chest tightens.
Does she know? She never asked my ex-wife's name. I never volunteered it. She couldn't...
Could she?
The phone finally stops vibrating. Silence settles over the cabin. I continue staring at the dark screen. Unable to move. Unable to think. Unable to believe the impossible coincidence standing in front of me. The universe has an unbelievably cruel sense of humor.
Floorboards creak softly behind me. I spin around. Caroline stands in the hallway wearing my oversized T-shirt, her hair still messy from sleep. She smiles. A sleepy, beautiful smile that makes my heart ache in an entirely different way now.
"Good morning," she says.
And suddenly, I have absolutely no idea what to say. “Sit down.” I murmur more forcefully than makes sense.
I slide a plate of eggs, bacon, toast, and strawberries in front of Caroline.
Tell her now.
"Wow." She stares down at the plate before looking back at me. "This looks incredible."
I force a smile. "It isn't anything special."
She laughs. "This is coming from the man who made breakfast look like it belongs in a magazine."
"I got carried away."
"I noticed." She picks up her fork. "Taste test?"
I nod. She takes a bite of eggs. Closes her eyes.
Then lets out an exaggerated sigh. "Oh no."
My stomach tightens. "What?"
She slowly opens one eye. "I can never leave now."
The words are meant as a joke. I know they are. But they hit me square in the chest anyway.
"I've become emotionally attached to these eggs."
I chuckle. "They're just eggs."
"No." She points her fork at me. "They're relationship eggs."
I blink. "Relationship eggs?"
"The kind that make people say things like, 'He's a keeper.'"
I laugh despite everything. "I've never heard breakfast described that way."
"You've clearly been eating breakfast with the wrong people."
My smile fades almost as quickly as it appears. The wrong people. If only she knew.
She tilts her head. "There it is again."
"What?"
"That look."
I freeze. "What look?" I busy myself with pouring more coffee. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You've been doing it since I walked into the kitchen."
I hand her the mug. She doesn't take it immediately. Instead, she watches me. Studying me. Trying to solve me.
"You were fine last night," she says softly. "You were joking. You were smiling." She lowers her voice. "What happened?"
You happened. Your phone happened. Your mother happened. The truth happened. I set my own mug down a little too hard. Coffee ripples over the edge.
"I..."
Tell her. Right now. Before this gets any harder.
"Caroline." I say.
She looks up. Completely open. Completely trusting. Those big eyes settle on mine. "Yeah?"
I take a breath. "My ex-wife..." The words catch. She waits patiently. "...there's something you should know."
"Okay."
My heart pounds so loudly I'm convinced she can hear it.
Just say it. Say her name. Barbara. That's all it takes.
One name. One sentence. Everything changes.
I look at Caroline. She's smiling softly at me.
Still wearing my oversized T-shirt. Still looking more at home in my cabin than anyone ever has.
If I tell her now... That smile disappears. The easy laughter disappears. This strange little world we've created over the last day disappears. She'll pack her things. Walk out the front door. And I'll never see her again. The realization terrifies me.
Coward. The word lands like a punch.
"I'm sorry," I say instead.
She frowns. "For what?"
"I..."
The truth sticks somewhere between my heart and my mouth. "I forgot to ask if you wanted more toast."
Silence. Even I know how pathetic that sounds.
She blinks. "Toast?"
"Yes."
"The important thing you needed to tell me was about toast?"
I close my eyes for half a second. "I'm not having my best morning."
"No kidding." Then, unexpectedly, she smiles.
A small, amused smile. "I thought maybe I'd accidentally offended you."
"You didn't."
"You've been acting so strange."
"I know."
"Did I do something?"
The question is so earnest it twists something inside me. "No."
"You promise?"
"I promise."
That part, at least, is true. She hasn't done anything wrong. I'm the one keeping a secret. I'm the one waiting too long. I'm the one ruining this. She reaches across the table and gently lays her hand over mine. "I liked last night's Sebastian better."
I look down at our hands. "I liked him too."
She smiles. "There he is."
My chest aches. I can't keep doing this. I have to tell her. Soon. Very soon. Before this becomes unforgivable. Before she falls any harder. Before I— My thoughts stop.
She stands and walks around the table. And before I understand what she's doing, she gently settles onto my lap.
I stare at her. "Caroline..."
She smiles nervously. "What?"
"What are you doing?"
She shrugs one shoulder. "I've been wanting to do this since the bar."
She reaches up and brushes a strand of hair away from my forehead. Every coherent thought leaves my head. Her fingertips linger against my temple.
"I know something's bothering you," she whispers. "And you don't have to tell me until you're ready."
Guilt crashes through me. I should tell you now. I should. Instead I just look at her. She's so close. Close enough that I can see the tiny flecks of gold in her eyes. Close enough to feel her warm breath against my face. She searches my expression for another long moment.
Then, very gently, she closes the distance. Her lips meet mine in a soft, tentative kiss. She starts to pull away almost immediately. Giving me every chance to stop this. Every chance to do the right thing. Every chance to tell her the truth first.
Instead, I cup her cheek. The restraint I've been clinging to simply... breaks. I kiss her back. Slowly. Carefully. Like I'm trying to memorize the moment even as I know I don't deserve it. I can’t resist her. This will be the end of me.