Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
ROWAN
I study myself in the mirror after applying a hint of gloss to my lips, butterflies stirring low in my stomach.
As sad as it sounds, this is my first real date since my rebirth.
Since the hospital.
Since I walked out of those sliding doors and decided if my life was going to be shorter than I’d planned, I was going to live it.
Buy a van. Drive. Wander. Say yes.
Over the past several months, dating hasn’t exactly been a priority.
Maybe because of Landon and how he decided he no longer wanted to be with me since I couldn’t give him kids, not without serious complications I’m not willing to risk.
Or maybe because I don’t want anyone getting attached to me when I’m on borrowed time.
But tonight isn’t about forever.
It’s just dinner.
And if I’m being honest, it’s also about distraction.
Because no matter how hard I try, my thoughts keep circling back to Hayden Lawrence.
This week has been trying, to say the least.
Not because he’s been difficult. If anything, he’s been the opposite. Professional. Respectful. Careful not to linger too long in my presence.
But I miss the easygoing routine we once had.
Miss the lively meals with the kids.
Miss sitting with him once the house has grown quiet at night.
Miss seeing him smile.
Headlights sweep into the room, and I glance out the window to see Joshua’s truck pull up.
I take one last look at my reflection — sweater dress, knee-high boots, hair loose.
Content with my appearance, I grab my coat and head for the door, slipping out through the separate entrance so I don’t have to walk through the house.
Don’t have to face Hayden.
Cold air greets me immediately, smelling of pine and chimney smoke. Everything I’ve come to love about Sycamore Falls.
Joshua is halfway up the porch steps when I call out, “Hey. I’m here.”
He turns, a smile spreading across his face. “Were you waiting outside?”
“There’s a separate entrance to the in-law suite,” I explain, hooking a thumb in its direction.
“I see.” He skims his eyes over me, lingering on my legs long enough to make me feel appreciated. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
When we arrive at Holley Ridge a short while later, it looks like something out of a postcard. I’ve driven by this place a few times, but have never actually stepped foot on the property. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen.
Lights wrap around every railing and tree branch, reflecting off the lake beyond. Snow-capped mountains rise in the distance. But even with the Christmas festival drawing crowds, the restaurant itself is hushed — soft music playing overhead, candles flickering on each table.
“This is beautiful,” I tell Joshua after our wine is poured. “Have you worked here long?”
“Since I turned sixteen. At first, it was just seasonal. They hold a harvest festival with a pumpkin patch and tractor rides during the fall before switching gears and decorating for Christmas. That was before they built this inn and restored the barn for weddings. After that, I started working full time, doing various odds and ends before Parker made me her head groundskeeper.”
“It sounds like you love it,” I remark thoughtfully.
“I do.” His expression brightens. “It might sound cheesy, but I’ve always loved this place. Always loved what I do. It may not be as prestigious as being a lawyer or doctor, but I really enjoy working here. Love taking care of the grounds. Love that every day is different.”
“Prestige doesn’t matter,” I tell him with a slight roll of my eyes.
“I think a lot of parents put pressure on their kids to follow a certain path. In my opinion, a high-paying or prestigious job doesn’t equal success.
I hated being a lawyer. It was never my dream, just something I did because I thought it would make my father proud.
It took a health scare for me to realize I’d wasted years of my life trying to make my father give a shit about me when the only thing I was good for in his eyes was continuing his legacy. So I left.”
“Have you spoken to your parents since then?” Joshua asks.
“I’ve sent them a few postcards from my travels, but I haven’t reached out. Maybe it sounds selfish, but this journey has been about protecting my peace and cutting people out of my life who don’t do that.”
“Like your parents.”
“Exactly.” I take a sip of my wine. “They’d probably lose their minds if they learned I was working as a nanny right now. But I actually like it better than working at that stuffy law firm. If anything, that job prepared me for this one.”
Joshua furrows his brow. “How so?”
“Many of my clients acted like toddlers when they didn’t get their way. Toddlers, at least, can be reasoned with. Grown adults? Not so much.”
He laughs, and the sound winds its way deep inside me. He’s so carefree and open. He shares things, doesn’t hide his emotions.
Unlike Hayden, who seems to keep his feelings locked up tight.
Throughout dinner, our conversation continues. To my surprise, there’s no shortage of things to talk about. It feels like I’ve known him much longer than the few days I have. He seems interested in everything I have to say.
He asks questions. Listens. Doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t compete.
When he talks about his mother, about losing her, his voice softens but he doesn’t shut down. There’s grief there, but also gratitude. Acceptance.
Unlike Hayden, who carries his grief like penance. Like if he ever loosens his grip on it, he’s betraying his wife.
It’s refreshing to see someone have a healthy relationship with grief, if there can ever be such a thing. But Joshua doesn’t allow the loss to weigh him down. Instead, he remembers the good times he shared with his mom.
By the time we finish eating, the restaurant is nearly empty. I have no idea how long we sat there, but it must have been hours. He’s a breath of fresh air, especially after the awkwardness with Hayden.
“Want to take a walk?” Joshua asks as we make our way back toward the lobby. “You can see the lights.”
“I’d like that.”
“This way.” He touches a hand to the small of my back and guides me toward a pair of double doors leading to a veranda.
Outside, Christmas lights twinkle along the path, reflected in the thin sheen of frost on the grass.
“I can see why you love this place. And this town. I’ve definitely enjoyed my time here. The people I’ve met have been incredibly welcoming.”
He arches a brow. “Present company included?”
“Present company definitely included.”
I draw in a deep breath, tilting my head back to admire the towering Norway spruce against the inky night sky. Everything’s so clear. So peaceful. Unlike back in Chicago.
Just then, a few snowflakes drift lazily down from the sky, landing on my cheeks.
“It’s snowing,” I whisper, doing a slow circle as flakes start falling more steadily. “It’s beautiful.”
The world feels softer. Quieter. Like we’ve stepped into a moment that doesn’t belong to anyone else.
“It is,” Joshua says.
But when I glance at him, he isn’t looking at the sky.
He’s looking at me.
The lights reflect in his dark eyes, and for a second, something shifts in my chest.
Maybe it’s the cold.
Maybe it’s the way the snow settles in his hair.
Maybe it’s the magic of Christmas in a town that feels like the first home I’ve ever had.
Or maybe I’m just tired of thinking about Hayden.
Whatever it is, I take a step toward Joshua.
Then another.
“Can I tell you something?” I murmur, my voice throaty.
His eyes drop to my mouth before lifting again. “What’s that?”
“I’ve never been kissed in the snow.”
“Didn’t you live in Chicago?”
I nod. “Sad, isn’t it? There were countless opportunities, but I never took them.”
“Should we do something to correct that?”
“It is on my life list,” I tell him.
“Before or after sunrise yoga?”
I laugh. “Definitely before.”
“Well then,” he hums, stepping closer, “let me help you cross it off.”
The teasing note in his voice fades into something softer.
His hand finds my waist, warm and steady, fingers splaying slightly as he draws me toward him. Not rushed. Not hesitant either. Just certain.
Snow gathers in the dark strands of his hair. A flake melts against my cheek, cool against overheated skin. My breathing is shallow and uneven as his thumb traces a slow arc against my hip.
He lifts his other hand, brushing a stray curl away from my face. His knuckles skim my jaw before his palm settles there, cradling. Guiding.
The air between us feels charged with the kind of excitement that usually makes everything sharper — the lights brighter, the air colder, the promise sweeter.
I wait for that familiar rush, the tightening in my stomach, the electric pull that makes the rest of the world fall away.
Joshua leans in, and his breath ghosts over my lips, warm against the winter air.
Finally, his mouth touches mine.
Soft.
Gentle.
Careful.
His lips move with practiced ease, coaxing rather than claiming. He tightens his grip on my waist, pulling me flush against him as flakes drift down around us like we’re inside a snow globe.
It’s romantic.
It’s sweet.
It’s…nice.
But I don’t want nice. I want passion. Want my body to light on fire.
I want Hayden.
I quickly silence the thought as I kiss Joshua back.
When he parts his lips, I follow, our tongues brushing in a brief, exploratory sweep.
And I still feel nothing.
No lightning strike. No loss of gravity. No hunger consuming me.
Just a kiss beneath falling snow.
When he finally pulls back, he rests his forehead against mine, his breath mingling with mine in visible puffs.
“I could keep doing that all night. But I have to work tomorrow.” He pulls away, meeting my eyes. “Maybe we can do this again?”
Even though the kiss didn’t undo me, I nod. “I’d like that.”
But as we walk back to his truck, my hand tucked into his, I wonder if I said yes because I genuinely want to see him again.
Or because I’m trying to erase Hayden’s kiss from my mind and body.
But I have a feeling I could kiss a thousand men under a thousand snowflakes, and I still wouldn’t be able to forget the way Hayden Lawrence kissed me.