“Damn, it’s cold,” I said, attempting the door code a second time. Cole had sent it in a group text earlier.
“Your jacket,” Parker pointed out, “might do more good on your body.”
Finally, the code worked. “I hate being in a car with my jacket on,” I said, pushing open the door. “Oh, my…”
It was incredible. To my left, an open space with couches and a stone fireplace that went two floors up to the ceiling. In front of me, the biggest kitchen I’d ever seen in my life with an informal dining area off to the left. The most striking thing wasn’t the size of the place but the fact that it was a log cabin, which gave it an instant woodsy and cozy feel despite the fact that it was basically a mansion.
“Wow.”
Parker was looking toward the dining area, and I could see why. Heading that way myself, my mouth dropped even further down to the floor. An entire wall of sliding glass doors and carpet-to-ceiling windows revealed the view. It was a perfect shot of the ski mountain with nothing but trees in front of it to spoil it.
“What did Cole say his friend did for a living?” I asked as Parker moved up beside me.
“A fellow professor, but he also mentioned something about the wife coming from money.”
“Makes sense. This is not a college professor’s house.”
“Agreed. This view alone is worth millions.”
We stood there for a few more seconds, our proximity hard to ignore. If I shifted just a little bit to my left, we’d be touching.
I swallowed and walked to the kitchen island.
“There’s a note,” I said, picking it up. The gang had already said they would be on the slopes, and we planned to join them. I read it out loud. “Welcome to the cabin! There are some hoagies and an open bottle of champagne in the fridge. Bedrooms on the third floor are yours. See you soon. xoxo, Pia and the boys.”
I showed Parker.
“Pia and the boys. Sounds like a music band.”
“It does. Can’t argue with lunch though. I’m starved.”
“Should we put our stuff away and eat?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Before I could even reach for my things, Parker had both of our duffle bags in hand. I hung my jacket on a hook near the door and followed him up the wooden staircase. The second floor boasted a landing with workout equipment that overlooked the first floor. The third floor had just two bedrooms, right across from each other.
“Take your pick,” he said, peering into the first one.
“Either works for me. Actually,” I said, “they look the same.”
Both were decorated like the rest of the house, exactly what one would think a ski chalet in upstate New York would look like.
Parker put my bag on the bed and paused just long enough for me to register that we were in a bedroom. Our eyes met, for the briefest of seconds, before he headed out to his own room. “Will meet you downstairs in a sec,” I called, heading into my own private bathroom and closing the door. I didn’t need to pee, surprisingly. But I did need to breathe. Looking into the mirror, I took a few deep breaths and reminded myself of the many hours it had taken for Makis to text me back, and then most often with just a word or two. Or when he said, “I need you to access your non-crazy side” when I questioned him about the dry texting. Or the multitude of times he said I was “overthinking” which, of course, turned out not to be true since he later broke up with me.
Twice.
It had taken my friends to make me realize I hadn’t done anything wrong. It was never about me. Makis simply wasn’t ready for a commitment but too chicken shit to say so. Instead he strung me along and made me feel like I was losing my mind when I called him out for pulling away.
Once I was sufficiently in the right state of mind to deal with Parker—now that I no longer wanted to kiss him, knowing where that could eventually lead—I headed back downstairs.
There were two hoagies, a bag of chips and two glasses of champagne already poured. Parker picked one up and handed it to me.
“Figured nothing went better with Italian hoagies than a good champagne.”
“Didn’t take you for a champagne guy?”
“It was already open. How could I resist?”
