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“Anyway,” Richard says, returning to business, “I’ll prepare the response. We’re not changing our position on the house or entertaining these additional demands, and I’ll send you a copy before it goes out. And Vince?”

“Yeah?”

“Try to enjoy the rest of your holiday. Let me worry about Elena for a few days.”

I smile despite myself. “That’s what I’m paying you for. Thank you, Richard.”

“Any time, Vince.”

I stay in my chair after the call, looking out at the lake.

I still have doubts. I still don’t know how we’ll handle everything that comes with being together. But for the first time in days, I’m thinking about what I want to say to Sophie rather than coming up with another reason to stay away from her.

By late afternoon, I’ve accomplished very little work. I’ve spent most of the day thinking about Sophie and what I want our future to look like. I’ve wasted so much time worrying about everything that could go wrong, when the one thing I know for certain is how much I love her. Whatever challenges lie ahead, I want to face them with her. I’m ready to take that chance, and I can’t wait another minute to tell her.

I find Sophie curled up on the living room couch with a paperback in her lap. With the snow-covered lake beyond the windows and Sophie looking perfectly at home among the Christmas decorations, I’m reminded of how happy we’ve been here together, and how much I want that happiness back.

Her hair is loosely gathered on top of her head, with a few strands falling around her face. She’s wearing jeans and a hoodie, her legs tucked beneath her as she reads. I pause in the doorway, taking her in. I know that face so well, the delicate curve of her jaw, the straight dark eyebrows that rise whenever she’s skeptical of something I’ve said, the expressive mouth that makes it nearly impossible for her to conceal what she’s thinking. Even now, with her attention elsewhere, I can see the beginnings of a smile on her lips, presumably at something in her book.

“Hey,” I say.

She lifts her head. “Hey.” She smiles, and then caution creeps into her expression. She marks her place with a finger, watching me as I come farther into the room. I can’t blame her for wondering what sort of conversation this is going to be. Lately, a conversation with me has been as likely to end in disappointment as anything else.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Sure.” She slips a bookmark between the pages and puts the novel on the coffee table, shifting over to make room. I sit beside her, leaving a little space between us, and she turns toward me, drawing one knee up against her chest.

“I owe you an apology,” I begin.

She gives me a rueful smile. “Again?”

“I know I’ve been doing a lot of that lately, and I suspect you’re getting tired of hearing it.”

“A little.” She’s smiling when she says it, but I hear the truth underneath.

“I don’t blame you. I’ve made a terrible mess of things, Sophie. I’ve told you I love you, and then behaved as though loving you was something I regretted. And every time I’ve convinced myself that pulling away was the responsible thing to do, you’ve been the one left wondering what changed.”

Her expression softens. “I know it’s complicated, Vince. I’m not pretending it isn’t.”

“Neither am I. But I’ve been using those complications as a reason to avoid making a decision. And in doing that, I’ve been making one anyway.”

Her eyebrows draw together. “Okay.”

I reach across the space between us and take her hand, running my thumb across her knuckles and watching her face as she waits for me to continue. “I love you, Sophie.”

Her lips part, but she says nothing.

“I’m in love with you,” I continue. “And I don’t want to spend another day pretending I can be happy without you. I’ve tried to imagine my life going back to the way it was before, and I can’t bear the thought of it.”

She straightens a little, her eyes searching mine.

“I want a future with you. I want to be the man you come home to, the person you tell about your day, the one you make plans with. I want all the ordinary things people get to want when they’re in love, and I’m tired of acting as though those things are somehow beyond our reach.”

Her fingers tighten around mine and she draws a breath, then lets it out slowly. “Vince.”

“I know there are going to be difficulties. I know people will have opinions, and that some of them won’t be kind. I can’t promise I’ll always know how to handle everything. But I’m not going to keep running away every time I get frightened.”

She looks down at our hands. For a few seconds, the only sound in the room is the faint ticking of the clock on the mantel. “Are you serious?” she asks quietly.