Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Clear skies greet us for the final time. We may never return to this same morning light, and I can hardly bear it. It’s our last day. How did that happen? It’s gone so fast.
It doesn’t snow. Everything is settled. What’s there is all laid out flat, clean, and quiet on the ground. Those same trees, thick with green needles, drip in the sunshine as it warms their bones and mine.
I inhale, matching my palms to the prints on the glass I made last night.
I am forever changed, but this place will remain a part of me.
The trees, the snow, her, and him, and us—we’re woven into the fabric of this cabin now. And though it may not be ours to keep, I will savour these memories and perhaps return to them in my thoughts, if not again in real life one day.
Juniper said she’d come visit us in England in the summer, but that’s still months away. I don’t want to say goodbye.
“Mia?”
Juniper is sitting up in bed, her hair bedraggled. Even her fringe sticks up at odd angles for once. Her expression is sleepy and soft. She’s perfect.
“You’re awake.” I hold out my hand, and she pads over, taking it in her own. We stand there, hand in hand, gazing out at the world.
“I’m gonna really miss you,” she says quietly, and I squeeze her hand.
“We’re gonna miss you too,” I say.
She groans. “This sucks so bad.”
I dip my head. “It sure does.”
Ethan lets out a low rumbling snore, and we both giggle, our free hands rushing to cover our mouths at the same time—which, of course, makes us giggle more.
Juniper inclines her head towards the bedroom door, and we sneak out together, leaving Ethan to rest. After all, he worked hard last night.
We go to the kitchen, and Juniper boils the kettle for our coffee. She flits around the room like a sparrow, light on her feet, hopping to and fro with a happy little air about her, sweet and warm despite the cold.
“I’ve been thinking.” She passes me a mug, and I cup it between my hands, taking in the warmth and that unmistakable morning coffee scent.
Juniper smiles dimly at her own mug nestled in her hands.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“This week has been amazing,” she says, “and I’m excited for the summer. I kinda can’t wait to see you again already.” She blushes.
I’m excited too.
Her smile drops, and she opens her mouth to say something else but stops herself.
“But?” I prompt her gently.
She lifts her chin, her expression bittersweet. “But I think maybe we should …” She pulls her gaze from me once more, and I put down my mug and cross the small space between us to hold her.
“No, I have to say this,” she says, getting a little choked up.
I step back. “Okay.” I swallow. No matter what comes next, I can handle this. I’m almost certain I can.
“Maybe we should have a rule.” She looks so serious.
It makes me want to make a joke, to help her crack a smile or something, but I remain silent, listening, strong.
“I think what happens at Holly Hill should stay at Holly Hill,” she says finally.
A small chuckle escapes her. “You know like … what happens in Vegas?” She throws me a small smile. “I want to be with you. And Ethan.”
I nod.
“But I’m also not looking for something long-term, y’know?”
I bow my head.
“No, Mia, please.” She cups my face in her hands, her watery gaze finding mine. “I want to be with you, like this, again. And again. And again,” she adds teasingly, and I manage a small smile. “I’m just not looking for a proper relationship right now …”
I let out a breath then nod. “Okay,” I tell her. That’s not so bad.
“So like, maybe we can, I dunno … press pause when we leave here, then …”
I quirk an eyebrow at her. “Press play when you visit us back in England?”
She nods, biting her lip.
“Okay,” I say, tears welling.
“Dammit. Don’t you cry, or I’ll cry!” Juniper says, reaching to sweep the already falling tear from my cheek.
“Sorry,” I mumble, coming apart at the seams. “I think you’re right,” I agree, no matter how much it pains me. “What we’ve had here, I wouldn’t change for the world, but I guess it’s not exactly something we can just take home.”
“Not this time.” Juniper says. Then she laughs a little to herself. “Would it be cheesy if I said, ‘But we’ll always have Holly Hill?’”
I laugh too. “Yes. It would be cheesy as hell.” I wipe my face and try to capture and hold that sparkle in her eyes. “But I like it.” I glance back at the hallway, to our closed bedroom door. “And I think Ethan will too.”
We shower together, taking turns to feel the full force of the artificial rainfall douse our bodies in hot water.
We giggle, soaping each other up then washing each other off.
We hold one another and gently sway to the sound of rushing water as we share soap bubble kisses, soft and maybe a little too splashy for comfort.
I draw a half-heart in the steamed glass, and Juniper completes it, making it whole—though, like our time here, it’s only temporary.
When we finish, we creep across the hall, our bodies still glistening, our footprints damp, and our giggles hushed.
Juniper holds up one finger, then two, then three, and I fling open the door. We both pounce on Ethan, ripping off the duvet and pressing our wet, naked bodies against him so that he laughs and shrieks.
“Get off!” he calls as I press my cold, wet breasts to his warm, bare chest. We both tickle and tease him until he leaps from the bed, hands raised in surrender.
“What?” I blink my doe-eyes ever so innocently. “We couldn’t let you stay in bed all day!”
He grunts, though a sheepish grin makes its way past his defences before he slopes off to the bathroom, alone. Two seconds later two towels fly through the open bedroom door. Then we hear the bathroom door swinging shut.
“Do you think he’s mad?” Juniper asks me, smiling.
“Oh, yeah. I think he’ll be frustrated just thinking about that particular wake up call for days …” I say mischievously. “If not weeks.”
Once we’re all dressed and showered, Ethan and I begrudgingly pack up our belongings while Juniper goes through the checklist Willow gave her for closing out the cabin.
“Darling?” I pass Ethan a pair of winter socks for his bag, and he hands me a pyjama top I must’ve missed.
“Yeah?” He hefts his suitcase to one side and sits on the bed, patting the space next to him. “You okay?”
I sit beside him, and he puts his arm around my shoulders. “Not really.”
He sighs. “Me neither.”
I gaze out the window; it still isn’t snowing. My hopes for a freak snowstorm to keep us captive here for a few more days dwindle with every passing hour. “I spoke to Juniper this morning.”
He cocks an eyebrow at me. “And I bet that’s not all you did,” he teases.
“Now, now.” I smile back. “We just showered together. That’s what friends do, right?”
He nods. “Oh yes. I totally shower with all my friends.”
I lean into him, playfully nudging his side, and he nudges me back. “Well, we just … we both kinda think …” I attempt to bring a tiny bit of seriousness to the conversation. “We think what happened here, at Holly Hill, should, y’know … stay here,” I say quietly.
“Ah.” He nods. “What happens in Vegas—” He taps the side of his nose.
I chuckle. “That’s what Juniper said!”
He kisses me, taking my face in his hands for a long, slow moment.
It’s more than just a husband kissing his wife.
It’s our way of saying goodbye to us three.
The kiss tells me that, even though it’s been so much fun having a third, and even though this hurts, we’re going to be okay when it’s just us two again.
We’ll be okay, and hopefully Juniper will be too. Until next time, at least.
Once we’re all packed, we leave our bags by the front door, neither of us wanting to take them to the car yet. Neither of us wanting to truly admit we have to leave.
I clean out the fire, even though Juniper tells me not to (because that’s Willow’s job). And we kinda bimble around putting the place back together, as it was when we arrived, though we can never undo all of it. Nor would we want to.
The last thing on my mental list is to pull up the fur blanket from the living room floor and return it to our bedroom. Then Ethan and I shift the coffee table back into place in front of the sofa.
We stand there, looking out at the living space, all pretty and perfect and—
“It just doesn’t feel right,” Juniper whines.
Exactly. “I know.” I put an arm around her shoulder.
Ethan sighs, and we all feel it. It’s all just … wrong.
Like melting snow, everything is disappearing under our noses: the echoing laughter bouncing off the cabin walls; the smell of sex as we staggered up the hallway to our bedroom; all those long candlelit conversations, sharing secrets, and desires, and more …
“I guess it’s time to go then,” Ethan says finally, his expression mirroring the heaviness I’m sure we’re all feeling in our hearts.
“Yeah,” I say quietly, and Juniper dips her head, clinging to my side.
We don our coats and boots for the final time then step out onto the deck to join the pattern of footsteps already laid by us, the messy dance of three sets of boot prints—and so much more.
Ethan takes our bags down to our dinky little car, which is of course even more laughably tiny now it’s dwarfed by Juniper’s “eye sore” of a campervan beside it.
“So um …” Juniper looks us over then side-eyes our hire car. “Lemme know if you need a tow, yeah?” She smirks, and we chuckle. This is the way we are around here, around each other. Always smiling, giggling, having fun.
“If we ever get trapped in a snowstorm again—” I say, but I’m too sad to even finish the joke.
“Take care.” Ethan pulls us both close. He kisses Juniper on one cheek, and I kiss her on the other. Then we climb into that stupid little car and drive away from one of the best holidays I’ve ever had.
“That was one hell of a honeymoon,” I tell Ethan as we turn at the top of the road, not looking back.
He puts a hand on my thigh. “Well worth the wait,” he says, and I return his smile.
“Definitely,” I say, a little teary. “I mean, the host really went above and beyond.” I giggle, and then we both laugh loudly.
“Oh yeah,” he says. “I’m thinking five stars on Trip Advisor for sure.”
I nod, my gaze on the road ahead. “Beautiful accommodation. Great food … And the sex far surpassed my wildest dreams.”
We wind our way through the snowy mountains, passing endless firs bathed in snow and soft sunlight. My GPS is still mega glitchy, and really no help at all, but we have Juniper’s handwritten directions to guide us back to where we need to be.
We blast hot air through the car vents, but it still takes time for us to thaw.
When we eventually grow warm again, and my phone works out where the heck we are, and where we’re supposed to go, I smile at Ethan. “So what’s next on the agenda?”
“I dunno.” He smiles right back. “Maybe a foursome?”