Page 130 of Hot As Ice

Best birthday ever.

forty-two

stevie

WE HAD A mild autumn, but the snow’s been coming down hard all of January.

I have a love-hate relationship with winter.

Love: hot chocolate, chic winter clothes, everything coated in frost.

Hate: driving, shoveling snow, freezing my butt off.

It snowed almost all of last night. Hunter and I cuddled in bed watching the snowflakes drift down. The fireplace in his room was on and it was the coziest thing ever. Then we watched a movie, had sex, and fell asleep all snuggled together.

I didn’t know it was possible to be this happy.

But Hunter has a lot on his mind. He told me what happened when he disappeared for a few minutes on his birthday, and how he confronted his dad. He still thinks his dad is hurting Celeste; he just doesn’t know how to prove it. I don’t know how to help, but I made good on my promise to invite Celeste out to eat. Maybe she might admit something to me. Maybe she needs somebody to talk to, and I’m a safe option.

I messaged Celeste two days ago and she said she’d be free this weekend. So, we settled on meeting on Saturday at a restaurant called Bea’s Hideaway in Greenwood.

Celeste is already seated when I enter the restaurant. The host takes me back to a corner table and Celeste rises from her seat, giving me a tight hug. I take off my scarf and coat and drape them over the back of my chair.

“How have you been?” I ask Celeste.

“I’ve been good. How about you? Thank you so much for inviting me out, by the way. I get stir crazy when it’s snowing out, but I won’t leave the house without good cause.”

I laugh. “You hate winter too?”

“Hate is a strong word. Let’s just say I prefer less precipitation in my life.”

“I feel you. Trust me.”

“Have you been here before?” she asks, picking up her menu. “They have the fluffiest pancakes.”

“Ooh, really? I could go for some pancakes.”

“Lemon ricotta,” Celeste says, nodding. “With blueberries on top.”

“Sold.”

She laughs and puts the menu away. “That was easy.”

We both order the pancakes when our server stops by. Celeste also orders a plate of bacon on the side.

“So, what have you been up to?” she asks, sipping on her mimosa. “How are your classes?”

“Oh! Before I forget. I have something for you.”

“For me?”

“Yup.” I reach inside my handbag and take out a small box. “I hope you like them,” I say, handing the box to Celeste.

She looks taken aback but takes the box from me wordlessly. Her expression is solemn as she opens the box, and I wonder if maybe I overstepped.

The earrings I made her are very delicate. They’re moonstone teardrop studs that go with her overall understated, elegant style.

Celeste looks at the earrings for a long time, and her expression is almost sad. I feel like I have to fill the silence, so I start babbling. “Moonstone is a stone of protection. It also helps with fertility. I picked it specifically for you since you are trying for a baby right now.”