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“It should be.”
We said goodbye to our colleagues and exited through the back door. Chill grazed our faces as we stepped into the crisp winter. Staindrop looked like a tipped-over snow globe, the dandruff of snow feathering the ground. I stuck my tongue out in delight and caught a few flakes.
“First snow of the season!” I twirled, opening my arms. I had on Mom’s kick-ass mittens. “Dad loved the snow.”
My father and I would wake up on winter mornings to a white-covered world. We’d run outside and make Minecraft-inspired snowmen. We’d hold their twig hands days later, as they melted, and say our teary goodbyes. They’d all had names, backstories, and motivations. Dad had said not to be sad because the snow melted into everything we touched and the same could be said about losing a loved one. The person who left us was still there—soaked into memories, objects, and other people. We all left a mark on this world.
It was only now that I understood Dad’s greatest gift to me wasn’t the bike I’d gotten for Christmas or even the Barbie house he’d gotten me when I was six. He had taught me creativity and imagination. And they were my safe place.
I turned around to check if Row was still there. He was. And he was staring at me in a way that made me feel naked yet somehow all fuzzy and warm inside.
“Let’s go, Dot.”
Descartes was a twenty-minute walk from my house. But it was a steep hill down toward the harbor. The street was lined with small shops adorned with pine wreaths, naked trees tangled in Christmas lights, and fluffy pillows of snow decorating rooftops.
The first few minutes were spent in silence. I tried to keep my mouth shut. We both needed a second to wrap our heads around what had just happened today.
Do not start a conversation.
Do not. No matter how much you want his words.
And his smiles.
And…fine, even his frowns.
“So why did you and Allison Murray break up?” my mouth inquired.
Damnit, mouth. You’re grounded.
“What happened the day you broke your ankle?” He ran his tongue over his teeth, and I didn’t know if he’d speculated the connection between the two subjects, but my heart skipped a beat.
“That’s…personal.” I grimaced.
“Same answer.” Silence. Then, “Jesus, look at you. You’re shivering.” He dumped his bag on the ground, slid his jacket off his shoulders, and wrapped it around me, even though I already had on a big, puffy coat. His jacket oozed warmth that seeped right into my bones.
“You can’t do that. You only have a shirt on,” I protested, only to have him rip the beanie from his head and slam it over mine, rolling it down.
“Here, that’s better.” He said that because my face was covered all the way. Bastard.
“You’ll be cold.” I pushed the beanie up, blinking at him.
“Don’t worry about me.”
“Someone needs to.”
“Yeah, well, no one did, and I turned out just fine.”
It was ridiculous, but I knew arguing would bring us nowhere—he was a Taurus, for crying out loud—so I quickened my pace. He shoved his hands into his front pockets. He had a leather messenger bag slung across his shoulder. Pink stained his high cheekbones. He looked like fan art of a fantasy villain.
I dug my teeth into my lower lip, dying to know what had made snooty, bitchy Allison worthy of being his ex-girlfriend—other than the banal stuff, like how she was a knockout, smart, ambitious, and had a killer wardrobe and, oh, an actual career.
“Those brain wheels of yours are a little rusty,” Row muttered, still staring ahead. “I can hear them turning all the way from here.”
“Let’s trade info,” I bargained. “I’ll tell you about my injury, and you’ll tell me about your relationship with Allison.”
“That desperate for gossip, huh?” He chuckled humorlessly, but I could tell he wanted to hear my story.
“You never had a girlfriend growing up.” I shrugged defensively. “I’m interested to know what made her different.”
