"She used to say snow shadows are never just gray. They reflect the sky." I clear my throat, uncomfortable with the memories. "You should come inside soon. Temperature's dropping."
"Five more minutes." She's already refocusing on her painting, adding the new shadow color with delicate strokes. "I need to capture this light before it changes."
I leave her to her work, but the conversation lingers. I rarely speak about my parents. They died when I was fourteen, car accident on an icy mountain road not unlike the one leading to my cabin. Aunt Beverly took me in. Aunt Mildred helped financially. Life moved forward, but I locked those memories away, too painful to revisit.
Something about Jennifer makes those locked doors easier to open. Dangerous indeed.
My phone buzzes with a text from Beverly.
Aunt Beverly: One week until Mildred arrives! How are wedding preparations coming?
I stare at the message, momentarily confused before remembering our cover story. We told Beverly that Jennifer and I were renewing our vows as a Christmas gift to Aunt Mildred. A small ceremony at the cabin on Christmas Eve. More lies piled upon lies.
Me: Everything's on track,I text back.Jennifer's handling most details.
Another lie. We haven't discussed any kind of ceremony. I make a mental note to bring it up over dinner.
Jennifer comes in an hour later, cheeks flushed from the cold, painting in hand. "What do you think? Be honest."
The finished painting captures not just the view but the feeling of the mountains in winter. The majesty, the solitude, the quiet beauty.
"It's perfect," I say. "You've captured it exactly."
Her smile is like sunshine. "Really? I thought the foreground trees were still a little off, but if you like it, it must be okay. You're the mountain expert, after all."
"You should sell your work. Tourists would pay good money for paintings like this."
"Maybe." She sets the painting aside to dry. "Though I kind of want to keep this one. Memento of my time as Mrs. Calloway."
The casual reference to our arrangement feels like a bucket of ice water. A reminder that this is temporary. That in a week and a half, she'll take her painting and her laughter and leave my cabin as empty as it was before.
"Speaking of which," I say, forcing practicality into my voice. "Beverly texted about our supposed vow renewal ceremony. We should discuss details in case Aunt Mildred asks."
"Vow renewal?" She shrugs out of my flannel shirt, hanging it on a hook by the door. "Sounds fun. Christmas Eve wedding in a mountain cabin. Very Hallmark."
"We're not actually doing it," I remind her. "Just creating a plausible story."
"I know that." She rolls her eyes. "So what's our story? Small intimate ceremony? Just family? Or did we invite the whole town to witness our undying love?"
"Small. Family only. You, me, Aunt Mildred, Beverly."
"And Ridge," she adds. "He'd never forgive me if he missed my fake vow renewal."
"Ridge will be back from his guiding trip by then, so yes, he can attend our fictional ceremony."
She collapses onto the couch, feet tucked under her. "What about decor? Flowers? Music? I assume fictional me would go all out."
I hadn't considered those details. "Whatever you think is appropriate."
"Oh no you don't." She points a finger at me. "You don't get to check out of planning our fake wedding. What kind of husband does that make you?"
"A typical one?" I offer, earning a throw pillow to the face.
"Sit." She pats the couch beside her. "Wedding planning time, Mr. Calloway."
I sit, leaving what I think is a safe distance between us. Jennifer immediately scoots closer, eliminating that safety gap, her thigh pressed against mine.
"For the record," she says, "I've always wanted a winter wedding. Evergreen boughs. White roses. Twinkle lights everywhere. Cozy and intimate."
