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At the same time, one of the older boys pretends to gag. “Yuck!”

It makes Cami laugh and burrow into my side, accepting the protection I offer even though I’m not actually sure I could take on a wolf, that I could fight one off for her. But I do know that I would try, that I would put everything on the line for her. That’s another major change from the man I was just a month ago, the man who thought about himself more than anyone else.

As we walk with the others back toward the cruiser, some of them joke about Cami and me being nauseatingly in love. Others shriek and run and duck and toss clumps of snow at each other. Laughter rises up into the night, creating its own little type of northern lights. A shimmering, glimmering beacon of love.

Walking together with the Moreno family, with Cami under my arm, makes me realize that all this time telling myself I didn’t need anyone was a lie.

It feels good to be with them, to look around and smile without thinking. To share a knowing glance when a kid does something naughty. To feel a woman’s hand sliding into mine, her soft smile directed just at me, and only me.

It feels good to be part of a group.

To be part of a family.

CHAPTER 24

CAMI

This might be the happiest I’ve ever been in my life.

Since the night of the northern lights, things have been different between Patrick and me. He gets me coffee in bed every morning, even though it means trekking to the main lodge and returning with it. He still insists on sleeping on the sofa, but in the mornings, he’ll build the pillow wall in the bed and sit resolutely on the other side of it, enjoying his coffee as well.

“You really don’t have to build the pillow wall,” I said with a laugh on the third or fourth day of this routine.

“I respect you, Cami,” he said, looking at me from over the top of his mug. “Too much to do anything on this trip. I want this whole thing to be behind us, to be home, before we take things any further.”

Which might just be the sweetest thing a man has ever said to me, even though I’m still frustrated about not getting to kiss and touch him as much as I want. Patrick is right. With our arrangement here, it could be easy to blur the lines between what’s real and what’s acting.

Once we get home, it will give us both a chance to look at each other with clear eyes. Although I’m pretty sure I’m going to want him just the same, beautiful winter wonderland or not. I’m not being thick-skulled; I know there are a lot of things that we’ll need to talk about. Stuff that needs to be sorted out.

But after that kiss, after walking back to the snow cruiser with the Morenos, I feel confident that we can figure it all out.

Today, when Patrick and I wake up, I text Poppy and ask if she can talk. So much has changed, and I want to talk to my best friend about it all, but she’s been beyond busy.

After Patrick brings me my coffee, dark clouds roll in over the top of our lodgings, and heavy snow starts to fall, mixed with a bit of sleet. The lodge manager tells us to hunker down and enjoy some downtime—all outdoor excursions are paused for the weather.

We all gather in the main area of the lodge, sitting around a large wooden table. Gloria makes breakfast, then there’s a debate about what indoor activity we should do.

“Not Monopoly,” I say, crossing my arms. “I get way too competitive about Monopoly.”

“Who would have thought?” Bailey jokes, nudging me, and we dissolve into laughter. They all saw how competitive I was on the snowmobiles, and that wasn’t even technically a race.

“Gingerbread houses,” Chris basically sings, as his kids set out all the supplies on the table. I barely resist cracking my knuckles. I’m a pro at this, and I can’t wait to show everybody up.

Patrick frowns at the pieces laid out on the table in front of us. “I thought these came premade?”

“Oh, no,” Chris says, clapping a hand on Patrick’s shoulder and looking genuinely sorry for him. “I didn’t know you came from a premade gingerbread house sort of family. I would have sent a sympathy card.”

That makes me snort with laughter, which I can tell Chris appreciates. But I’m not doing it for the mission of getting Moreno Toys anymore. All my reactions are my own. I love being here with this family. It would only be better if my family was here, too.

Patrick sits next to me, and we get started on the gingerbread houses, but I quickly realize something is off. Poking around on the fireplace mantel and then in the entertainment center, I ask, “Doesn’t this place have a sound system or something?”

“No clue,” Gloria says, shrugging a shoulder. “I wouldn’t know how to use something like that, anyway.”

“Don’t worry,” I say, reaching into my own bag and producing the Bluetooth speaker I brought along with me. I set it up and turn on a classic Christmas playlist, because Chris and Gloria strike me as the kind of folks who don’t want to listen to modern remakes.

We’re still sitting at the table an hour later, most of us with well-constructed houses and Patrick still trying to glue two pieces together.

“Aren’t you going to help him out?” Gloria laughs, looking between the two of us.