"I'll let you keep me warm."
"Is that a request or a demand?"
"Both."
She grins and takes my hand, and I let her lead me toward the terrace doors.
Quebec City is three days away.
The plan is Christmas Eve.
But somewhere between now and then, I can't deny it—the idea of putting down the planning is becoming more and more attractive…
Two minutes later, Harper and I slip out through the French doors, grabbing our coats from the nearby closet, and head down toward the beach.
The December cold hits like a wall—sharp and biting—but Harper doesn't seem to care. The moment her heels touch the sand, she kicks them off, dangling them from one hand as she walks barefoot.
"You're going to get frostbite," I warn the woman who's now holding my hand.
"Live a little, Victor."
"I'm freezing my balls off for the second time in a week. Trust me—that's living."
"This is you tolerating. Not the same."
She's right.
Grinning, I kiss her forehead, and we continue walking down the lamp-lined beachfront sand of the estate, the ocean crashing beside us, the lights from the estate itself shrinking softly behind us. The snow has stopped, but the wind is still brutal, whipping Harper's hair around her face.
"Thank you," Harper says finally, stopping and turning to face me.
"For what?"
"For bringing me here. For—" She motions back toward the estate. "This entire event is just—it's beautiful. Roman and Calli are lucky to have friends like you."
"I'm the lucky one." I pull her closer, trying to shield her from the wind. "You're freezing."
"A little. But it's worth it." She looks up at me, her hazel eyes reflecting the distant lights from the estate. "Tomorrow's going to be incredible. Have you seen the ceremony setup?"
"Roman showed me earlier. The oceanfront pavilion. Really nice."
"Really expensive, you mean."
"That too." I adjust her coat collar, tucking it tighter around her neck. "The ceremony starts at four. Then cocktail hour on the terrace, dinner in the main ballroom at six. First dance around seven-thirty."
"And your best man speech?"
"After dinner. Before the cake cutting."
Harper grins. "Are you nervous?"
"About the speech? Not at all. I've given hundreds of presentations."
"This isn't a presentation, Victor. This is your best friend's wedding. You're allowed to be emotional."
"I'm not emotional."
"You cried during the Thanksgiving episode."
