Page 105 of The Snowflake Effect

“You don’t have to join us.”

No, I don’t. But if there’s one thing being with Kolton has taught me is that it’s okay to do things you don’t like to support the people you love. “I’ll come, but maybe we can put those blow-up things in the gutters, so I at least get a score on the board.”

He chuckles. “Deal.” A light snow begins to fall, soft and gentle, the flakes dancing as they descend. Kolton tightens his hold around me. “I really fucking love you, Shay.”

We say those magic words often since I moved to Vancouver, but his tone this time is a bit more intense. “I love you, too. Like, big, huge, hard-to-breathe-sometimes love,” I admit.

He exhales heavily. “I still get scared sometimes, you know.”

I bite my lip and try to search his face, but he’s turned slightly away from me. “Scared of what?”

“That this thing with you—us, Jackson, this amazing life we’re building—that it’s too good. That something will happen and fuck it all up.”

My heart squeezes for him. I will hopefully never know the pain of losing my partner, but I’m so incredibly thankful Kolton took this risk on me.

I press my hand to the outside of his helmet and shift his face toward me. “Things can always go wrong. We can’t predict the future, but I’ve never been happier. I didn’t even know a person could be this happy. Whatever the future brings, being together now is worth it.”

Living with Kolton and Jackson this time around is even better. I don’t contribute financially to our home yet, a fact that took me a while to accept, but I contribute plenty to our lives: helping Jackson with homework, shuttling him around, taking turns with Kolton cooking for our little family. And my new design job is shaping up to be everything I could have wanted.

My work for Moondog and Hilary’s letter of recommendation paved my way in interviews. One of my favorite firms hired someone over me, but the other top contender welcomed me with open arms. I’m working alongside friendly, creative co-workers, tackling a variety of projects, from custom homes to retail spaces.

Impostor syndrome still creeps up on me at times, but I talk through my worries with Kolton those days, and he always boosts my confidence.

“I mean, not everything in our lives is perfect,” I tell the love of my life. I’m not even mad anymore that he skied into me in Aspen. “These helmets we’re wearing are the worst. My dork factor is high, and your gorgeous hair is hidden.”

He grins and sneaks a kiss, knocking our goggles together. “So fucking dorky.”

We ride the rest of the way, chatting and laughing as the snow falls. Just another day in our amazing life, proving compromises and risks aren’t the path to becoming a snowball. With Kolton, I’m the best version of myself, and I think he feels that way about himself, too.

EPILOGUE

LILY

Whoever wrote the sixties song “Breaking Up Is Hard to Do” didn’t know the half of it. I’ve been living in Breakup Limbo for a year. A quiet town, population: two. Three hundred and sixty-five days of indecision.

Each month I wonder when I’ll find the courage to break up with Kevin, crushing our eleven years together. Each month my fear and nerves and doubt feed my uncertainty. Then my design partner and boss, Sawyer West, comes to town, and I’m a walking mess.

We stand back from the takeout counter now, Sawyer with his arms crossed, me biting my lip, while we examine the chalkboard menu above. Normally ordering lunch is a simple affair. I might take a while deciding between a wrap or a salad, sushi or dim sum, but I don’t stare at the menu as if the letters are rearranging themselves.

That only happens when I’m with Sawyer.

He squints at the scrawled letters. “I’m obviously getting the Pig Wrap. Chipotle bacon and porchetta were invented for me. You know what you want?”

You, I should say. I’ll take all six feet, the sandy hair, brown eyes, wide shoulders, and lean body to go. With an extra dimple and sexy smile on the side, please. Unfortunately, my boyfriend might put up a fuss when I show up with my purchase.

“Can’t decide,” I say. The theme of my life these days.

A month ago, I dragged Shay and Raven out for a girls’ night. I was desperate to unload my dizzying thoughts about my stagnant relationship with Kevin, and I laid out the details. How we’d grown apart. That I loved him but wasn’t in love with him. They were the same words I’ve been parroting mentally for over a year as I flipped through old photos solo, gorged on chocolate, and wondered when we lost what we had. My decision seemed clear in that moment with my friends. I was sure I’d march home and finally end things with Kevin.

But when I arrived home, he smiled at me from our couch, his nose poking above his book as he said, “Your mom called. I told her I’d head up north this weekend to help with that charity drive.”

My resolve plummeted, and anxiety cramped my stomach.

He’s a good man, I thought. He loves my family as much as I love his.

So, I said nothing. I went to sleep alone, the way I often do, my abdomen twisting in discomfort, and when he crawled into bed, we slept with our backs to each other.

Now Sawyer is in town from Vancouver, his first visit since that night, and I hate myself a little more for not being strong enough to move on with my life.