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Her mind was a jumble of thoughts and feelings. She needed space to think, not more of his company. “We could tell her we’d rather chill and enjoy each other’s company here.”
He ignored her, his attention on the paper he was reading.
“Well?” She started to feel nervous.
“This afternoon we’re going dogsledding. We’re being picked up from here, given the right clothes to wear and taken into the forest to a mystery place where it seems that being close to nature will rekindle my romantic tendencies.” He adjusted his glasses. “Did I ever have those? I’m not sure there is anything to rekindle.”
“I suppose it depends on how you define romance.”
He gave a faint smile. “That sounds damning. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked.” He glanced down at the paper again. “It might be fun.”
“What does it involve? We ride in the back of a sled?”
“No, I think we’re the ones driving.” His gaze flickered to hers. “Clearly they’ve never seen you drive. After that snowmobile, I’m not sure I trust you with dogs.”
“You’re not funny. How do you drive dogs?”
“Presumably we’ll be taught. Can’t be more unmanageable than camels.”
If they were driving, she thought, there wouldn’t be much opportunity for awkward conversation. As long as she wasn’t freezing cold, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. “Is that it?”
“No, that’s only the beginning. Then we come back here, have an hour to shower, warm up and change before being driven to an intimate dinner in a restaurant.”
She swallowed. “What’s intimate about it?”
“It’s the two of us, for a start. Also, it’s halfway up a mountain. No easy access and no easy escape. Once we get there, you’re my captive.”
“Maybe you’re my captive.” She felt a flutter of panic. “I want to spend time with the girls. I’ve barely seen them.”
“Unless you want to change your story, seems like you’re stuck with me.” He lowered the paper to his lap. “Is that so bad?”
“I’m not sure.” It didn’t feel bad, and that in itself was strange and unsettling. Couples getting a divorce were supposed to argue and talk through lawyers, not enjoy candlelit dinners together. “This whole thing feels—weird.”
“Why? We used to go on trips and enjoy intimate dinners. Remember?”
“I don’t remember candles, except for the time we lost power in the cottage that winter. I remember picnics in fields, and days spent clambering through the ruins of ancient castles. We didn’t have the money for fancy restaurants.”
He fiddled with the paper. “You chose the wrong guy. You should have married an economics student. He would have gone into banking. Probably would have ended up running the bank. By now you would have had a house in Mayfair and a country pile in Surrey.”
“That sounds like a lot of work.”
“At least five cars.”
“There’s only one of me. What would I do with five cars?”
“You definitely would have had staff.”
“Staff would have been welcome.” Or would they? She’d happily hand over dust removal duties but creating a home was so much more than a compilation of domestic tasks. And she wouldn’t have relished having other people around the house.
“Your parents would have approved of your choice.”
“If my parents would have approved, then I know I would have hated him.”
“I hate him, too, and I never even met the guy.” He reached across and took her hand. “I’m sorry, Mags.”
“For what? For not running a bank, owning two houses and five cars? That’s not the stuff that makes people happy, although perhaps it fills a hole if someone isn’t happy.”
“You’re wise. Have I ever told you you’re wise?”
