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With my arms full of firewood, I return inside. The door closes against the cold, and warmth wraps around me. Anna’s voice trails from the kitchen, where she’s making something that smells amazing.

“Found a treasure out there,” I say, setting the wood beside the fireplace. “Hot tub’s ready to go if you’re willing to brave the cold and try something new.”

She glances up, eyes dancing. “You found it?”

“Mountain luxury." I wink. "I added enough wood to keep it going for hours."

She looks amused but focused on dinner. “I’ll finish cooking first, then you can show me this mountain luxury, if you don’t fall asleep in your dinner."

I head to the bathroom to wash my hands, and when I return, the smell hits me full force. Browned butter, melted cheese, caramelized onions. The kind of food that makes the cold outside feel like a gift instead of a threat.

Anna stands at the stove, stirring soft egg noodles into a pan of melted Alpine cheese. The golden mass clings to the noodles, stretching as she folds everything together. Another pan holds the onions, deep brown and glossy, their sweetness cutting through the richness of everything else.

"Need help?"

She glances over her shoulder. "Set the table?"

I grab plates and cutlery, moving around her to reach the drawer. Our shoulders brush, and she doesn't step away. Neither do I.

The kitchen's small enough that we're in each other's space constantly, but it doesn't feel crowded. She reaches for the pepper mill while I'm setting down forks, and I shift just enough to let her through. She hands me the salad bowl without asking, and I carry it to the table.

No negotiation. No awkward pauses.

"This smells incredible," I say, watching her spoon the onions over the noodles.

"Comfort food. Käsespätzle.” She scoops some onto two plates, the cheese still bubbling slightly at the edges. "Oma used to make this on winter nights."

"Smells amazing."

Anna smiles, carrying the plates to the table. I follow with the salad and pour water for both of us. She sits across from me, tucking one leg beneath her, and I realize I've watched her do that before. At the lake house. In Chicago. She settles into spaces the same way, easy and unselfconscious.

I take a bite, and the flavors hit exactly right. Rich, hearty, grounding. The kind of meal that makes you grateful for a warm house and nowhere you need to be.

"Good?"

"Better than good."

She looks pleased. Not smug, just satisfied, like she wanted to get this right.

I can’t wait to be in a place with her that tells her she always does, without making her uncomfortable.

Ifinish drying the last plate while Anna disappears into the bedroom. When she's gone, I strip down to my underwear, lace my boots, and grab two towels from the bathroom. The cold's going to hit hard, but I've got a plan.

Anna comes back wearing one of my T-shirts, the fabric hanging loose on her frame, and I can't help the grin.

"That looks good on you."

She tugs at the hem. "It's enormous."

"Climb on."

Her eyebrows lift. "Excuse me?"

"My back. Come on."

"I can walk fifty meters perfectly well, Reznik."

"Get on."