Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Ethan stands at the door, fully suited up from his goofy trapper hat down to his fancy new snow boots. “Wish me luck!” He braces himself and, for the first time since we arrived, he ventures back outside into the stunning snowy wild.
Juniper presses a hand to her chest. “What a brave soldier!”
“Let us pray he makes it back with all his toes,” I join in, and we both giggle.
Juniper gave him directions to the shed around the back of the property so he can fetch more firewood while we stay inside in the warm.
Unfortunately the wood is pre-cut, so I won’t get to ogle him swinging an axe around, but then again, I’m not sure I would trust my goofball of a husband not to accidentally cut off a limb if he did.
The storm has settled, though it’s been snowing on and off all day. The view is so magical, I feel the urge to pinch myself every time I look out at the wonderland we’re residing in. It’s almost too good to be true.
Juniper helps me shift the coffee table to one side. Then we drag the indeterminate fur blanket from the bed and lay it on the living room floor.
I put the fire on, eyeing the remaining nest of logs in their basket and hoping Ethan is successful on his mission. Then we set about choosing a boardgame from the selection we found in one of the cupboards.
“I don’t have the best track record with Monopoly,” Juniper confesses, eyeing the box as I hold it up to her as an option.
“No?” I smile. “How come?”
She blushes. “Okay, don’t laugh—”
I hold my hands up. “I make no promises.”
She blushes some more. “It’s just … I have been known to be a little over-competitive at times?” I’m guessing it was her sister who said that.
“Well,” I say. “I have, on occasion, heard the same thing said about me.”
“By your sister?” She cocks an eyebrow at me, and I nod.
“Yup.”
“Same.” She rolls her eyes. “But she’s just a sore loser.”
“Right?” I agree, pulling off the lid then setting out the board on the blanket.
Half an hour later, Ethan bursts through the door, arms laden with cut logs.
“Our hero!” we call enthusiastically before returning to our game.
“And that’s a five …” Juniper says smugly. “So … one, two”—she moves her tiny top hat around the board—“three, four …”
“No!” I squeal.
“Aaaand five.” She stabs it down onto Park Place. “I’ll take it!” She beams, handing me a wad of paper money.
“You jammy git!” I shout.
Juniper guffaws. “I think I need to write that one down!”
Ethan journeys to and from the log shed as Juniper and I playfully shriek, shout, and snipe at each other. At long last, I’m forced to admit bankruptcy, and therefore defeat, though I struggle to mourn my loss when Juniper is so happy with her win.
Juniper showers us in fake money, throwing the notes in the air as she calls, “I win! I win!”
As the coloured notes feather down around us I say, “Sure. You may have won this round. But you’ve never played Scrabble with Ethan.”
When he comes back in at long last, red-faced and clearly exhausted from all that free labour, we invite him to play with us.
“Of course I’ll kick both your arses.” He grins. “But I gotta shower first.”
Sat on the floor, the fur blanket beneath us, I lean my back against the sofa and sit there, taking it all in. I still can’t believe we’re here.
Outside, the snow flutters down, huge flakes spinning and swaying in the breeze.
Inside, I stretch out my legs, crossing one over the other, and flex my toes in their fluffy socks in the direction of the fire—which, thanks to Ethan’s courageous efforts, we should now be able to keep going for a good long while.
I tilt my head back to rest it on the sofa and stare up to where the cabin walls rise to the peak high above. There’s so much dead space above me, yet this whole place feels so charged and alive.
I close my eyes and listen for the rainfall shower down the hall, like white noise and comfort. I can almost feel the warmth of the hot water rippling down Ethan’s body. Steam fogging the clear glass. Then I hear another sound, something—or someone—drawing closer.
I open my eyes, and Juniper crawls over to sit beside me.
Without thinking, I put my arm around her, and she snuggles into my side.
It’s just friendly. This is exactly what friends do; how they sit, and how they feel, and how—
“Mmmm,” Juniper all but purrs, nestling in, and I cannot even begin to explain the warmth I feel having her beside me.
Is this weird? Am I reading too much into this?
“Warm,” she says happily, resting her head on my shoulder.
Or is she feeling this—whatever this is—too?
The shower stops, and I freeze.
Juniper looks up at me, one eyebrow raised. “Is this okay?” she asks gently.
“I um … Yeah,” I say, settling back down.
“Good.” She smiles at me, and I smile right back.
When Ethan troops in moments later, topless and in his grey joggers—a winning combination if I do say so myself—I barely stop myself from salivating. At the same time, I continue to clutch Juniper at my side, feeling an inexplicable heat for them both.
What the fuck?
“Well, you two are looking rather cosy!” Ethan says, towelling his hair and dumping the wet towel on the floor.
Juniper and I both stare at the discarded towel. Then he huffs a laugh, picks it back up, and merrily trots back to the bathroom, returning once more with his now-empty hands raised. “Point taken.”
Juniper nods with me, and we chuckle. We’re so in sync.
Ethan plonks down opposite us on the blanket and retrieves the Scrabble box from the pile. “You ladies ready?” he asks smugly.
Juniper straightens then shifts over so we’re in a triangle, facing one another. “Sure are, teacher boy,” she says cheekily.
I narrow my gaze at him then throw Juniper a conspiratorial smile. “Bring. It. On.”
The first few goes play out without a hitch—though, naturally, Ethan gets all the longest, most complex words while Juniper and I fight to fit our shorter, simpler attempts into the best spots for maximum points.
“That so doesn’t count!” Juniper, ashen faced, plucks Ethan’s letters from the board. “Color is c-o-l-o-r not c-o-l-o-u-r!” she dictates. “You’re in America right now my friend”—she crosses her arms over her chest—“So, American rules.”
I roll my eyes. “You can use the English ‘U’ if you want to,” I tell her, and she glares at me, playful yet menacing.
“No freaking way!” Her voice pitches an octave higher, and I fight the urge to laugh.
“Fine.” Ethan yields, and Juniper hands him back his useless U. He pins the R in its place, just shy of the “triple bonus,” then pouts. “You guys are mean.”
“Hey, it’s not my rules,” I defend.
“Urgh!” Juniper looks at me, shocked. “Whose side are you on?”
I laugh, raising my hands. “I am so not choosing between you!”
Ethan chuckles. “Famous last words.”
He trounces us both, of course—American rules notwithstanding—and we move on to the next game, and the next.
As the sunlight fades into dusk, we bathe in the orange glow of the assorted lamps dotted around the room.
“We need more lamps,” I tell Ethan dreamily.
“Yes, darling. I will buy you all of the lamps just as soon as we get home,” he replies.
I nod, but despite all this warmth and wonder, a splinter of cold penetrates my thoughts. I don’t want to go home yet. And I don’t want to say goodbye to Juniper.
I heave a sigh, and, as if reading my thoughts, Juniper looks over to me with a sympathetic smile.
Then she jumps up. “Ooh! I know what we need!”
“More lamps?” I ask, chuckling to myself.
“No.” She chuckles too. “Something even better.” She bounds out of the room, and Ethan and I exchange raised eyebrows.
“You see, Willow”—Juniper utters her sister’s name with about as much distaste as I reserve for my own exasperating sibling—“suggested I get ‘the guests’”—she cocks an eyebrow at us, as if we’re so much more than that now—“a bottle of fancy wine to go with the um … fancy charcuterie whatjamacallits …” She shrugs, both hands inconspicuously held behind her back.
“But, me being me, and um … well, to be honest, these were a steal …”
Juniper pulls out two full bottles of wine, one red and one white. “I figured go big or go home. I got the less fancy stuff …” She shrugs. “But more of it.”
“Well, that’s one for me and you, but what will Mia drink?” Ethan jokes, but—
“Good point!” Juniper cackles, thrusting the bottles into Ethan’s hands before disappearing back down the corridor.
“Ethan!” I scold.
“I was kidding!”
But Juniper returns with yet another bottle. “How do you English feel about tequila?!”
My eyebrows rise. “I didn’t see lemons in the fridge, but I do have a pack of sour Haribo in my suitcase?”
Juniper’s eyes light up. “Go!” She giggles. “Oh, and see if you can find some salt too!”
I grab the sweets from my bag then head for the kitchen where I—aha!
—procure a tray and dance around collecting salt and three mugs (unsurprisingly, there are no shot glasses to be found).
Of course Willow has provided the fanciest mugs ever.
Ceramic with a sort of ombre pink, the mugs are dusted with gold at the top, and I grin to myself.
I bet she’d be horrified if she found out I plan to fill them with alcohol.
I carefully carry my stash of supplies back to the living room and place them on the blanket between us.
“Perfection!” Juniper unscrews the cap from the white wine and pours the first mug. She looks up, unsure. “Should I have chilled it first?”
“Nah.” Ethan reaches for the bottle. “Though I can chuck the bottle in the snow for a bit if you wanna keep it festive?”
“Do it!” I tell him, and he jumps up delightedly, taking the bottle with him as he goes.
“We have a fridge, you know.” Juniper laughs.
“This is more fun,” I say.
Juniper pours us each a mug of red. “Cheers to that!” She eyes me, and I feel something akin to butterflies in my stomach.