Bientôt, my beaver said, coaxing me to get to bed, the sooner to see our mate. Right now, though, in the dark of night, the promise ofsoondidn’t feel like nearly enough.
I trudged toward bed but paused, catching sight of my reflection in the mirror. I laughed, thinking of Fable’s reaction to it. First, I had to get rid of this beard.
15
Fable
Timehadsloweddown.I swore, every time I glanced at the clock, it still said there was an hour left to my workday, and the only explanation was that there was a tear in the space-time continuum and time no longer worked the way it always had. It certainly wasn’t because I was excited to leave for my trip and had looked at that clock no less than a dozen times in the past minute.
My leg was bouncing so hard that I jostled the whole desk and knocked over my mug of tea. The good news was that it had gone cold because I’d forgotten it was there, so at least it didn’t scald me when it slopped all over my leg. The bad news was that italso soaked through the file sitting on my desk. Thebestnews? Mopping up the mess distracted me from clock-watching, and by the time I was done, it was time for me to leave.
I snatched up the cross-body bag I’d packed last night (and repacked again this morning because I was so giddy) and ran the hell out of my cubicle so fast, I left a dust cloud.
“Hey, Fable, where are you off to so fast?” my cubicle neighbor, Marty, called after me.
“Airport! I’m going to Canada!” I shouted over my shoulder. My smile was a mile wide. I wasn’t just going to Canada—I was going to see Guy! Was it fair to call him my boyfriend yet? Calling him a fling when we were accidentally double-booked in a cabin was one thing, but now I was getting on a flight to a foreign country with the express purpose of seeing him. If that didn’t scream boyfriend, I didn’t know what did.
Besides, there was one other detail that was about to make us more than a fling… We were about to becomeparents.
One look at me on the video call and Guy had immediately picked up on the fact that I hadn’t been feeling well. I’d joked my way past it, bringing attention back to his scraggly beard—which honestly, I’d kinda liked—because this wasn’t something I could bring up on a phone call when he could too easily hang up on me. No, this was the kind of conversation we needed to have face to face.
I’d barely had time to get used to the news myself. At first, I’d chalked up the fatigue and queasy stomach to being lonely and missing Guy. Honestly, I’d spent the Christmas holidays in bed by myself and eating my feelings. Who wouldn’t feel a little nauseous after a week of eating nothing but cookies and ice cream? But then even after I went back to work, the sick feeling lingered. I finally broke down and considered the alternative.
A test confirmed it: I was pregnant. It seemed impossible, the timing all wrong, but the evidence was right there in two pink lines.
I spent all afternoon and evening traveling, from LA to Toronto to Montreal, then got stuck with an overnight delay waiting for my last flight first thing in the morning. I probably could’ve grabbed a hotel for a couple hours’ sleep, but I didn’t want to risk missing my plane. There was no way I could go even one minute longer without seeing Guy, so I ended up sleeping on a row of seats, my bag propped under my head.
The final flight was on this small prop plane that took me to Saguenay, and while I didn’t usually get motion sickness, this one put my iron stomach to the test. Maybe it was morning sickness that made me more sensitive than usual, or maybe it was sleep deprivation or airport food or because I was so anxious to see Guy again.
Shit. Would he be mad about the baby? Was I allowed to be excited? Just over a month ago, I’d been playing pretend with Guy, and now it had the chance to become my reality. I hoped he wouldn’t think I’d trapped him for a green card or something. Did Canada even have green cards?
All my doubts swooped out of my head as the prop plane came in for a bumpy landing. At least there was no long delay like with a jet, where you had to wait for hundreds of people to grab their bags from overhead bins, the aisles clogged with people even before the door was open. Here, the handful of passengers were deposited straight out onto the tarmac, and I was out and jogging to the small airport as quickly as my legs could carry me. I didn’t care that the cold air was like a slap in the face or that it froze in my chest. All that mattered was that I would see Guy in minutes. Maybe seconds!
I didn’t have to search a crowd for myboyfriend, he was just there. His smile was blinding from behind his groomed beard,and he ran to meet me, swooping me up into his arms and squeezing me to his chest. My feet left the ground, and I brought my legs up to wrap around his waist, clinging to him. I never wanted to walk again.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” he mumbled into my neck, and as all the tension of the past weeks left my body, I didn’t give a damn that we were causing a scene. Let them stare.
“Take me home, Guy.” The word just popped out. Home. It wasn’t my home, of course, but I refused to take it back now that it was out there. And Guy didn’t seem about to correct me, either.
He set me back down on my feet reluctantly and took my bag from me. “Is this all you have?”
I felt a blush climbing up my neck. “Well, I… assumed I wouldn’t need much clothing. Did I make the right choice?” I peeked up at him through my lashes, and he nodded.
“Very much the right decision.” Then he grabbed my hand and half dragged me toward the parking lot outside. “We should hurry. We have lots of not-wearing-clothes to do.”
The drive to Castor Lake, where Guy lived, was stunning—or at least I assumed it was. I didn’t spend a whole lot of time looking out the window. Instead, I was gazing adoringly at Guy’s profile. He glanced at me often, and there was hardly a time when we weren’t touching. Holding hands on the console between our seats or his hand on my thigh. Neither of us seemed inclined to let go anytime soon. It seemed crazy to be this attached after such a short period of time. We weren’t teenagers experiencing the first blush of puppy love. The way I thought about him constantly was bordering on obsession, but at least it seemed like I wasn’t alone in feeling this way.
When Guy announced that we had arrived at Castor Lake, I finally turned to look outside. “Ohhh, I love it!” I gushed, pressing my face to the glass.
It was more like a neighborhood than a town. I could likely walk from one end to the other in a matter of minutes, but it didn’t feel barren. Quite the opposite, in fact. The homes were all rough cabins, with smoke billowing from chimneys, lacing the air with a cozy woodsmoke scent. There was a creek winding its way through town, and tall pines grew everywhere, even around the playground. There were kids playing in the snow there, and as we drove past, they waved and raced alongside us for as long as they could. I laughed, turning to look back at them. This was the kind of place to raise kids, where they were safe and loved, and I ached to raise our own child in such an idyllic town.
Guy pulled his car alongside a cabin I assumed was his, and my heart began to beat faster, anticipation burbling inside me. “Well, this is it,” he said, biting on his lower lip. Was he nervous to show me his home?
“I love it,” I assured him, even before I’d seen inside, but I knew it to be true. I loved everything about him, and his home was no exception.
His cabin wasn’t much larger than the one we’d stayed at back at the Winter Wonderland Wilderness Lodge, and it certainly looked more rustic, but it was so damn charming. “Did you really build this yourself?” I asked in total amazement.
He nodded, ducking his chin to hide his blush, but I knew it was there.
