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“What are these even meant to be?”
“Hearts! They’re red!"
“This one looks like an orange,” he says pointing to a heart that does look like an orange. “This one looks like an arrowhead with an orange for a bottom. This one is circular with a bite taken out of the top,” he argues dryly, pointing from one heart to the next. “Are you sure you didn’t knit a scarf of oranges?”
“Get lost! This was the first, and only, I hasten to add, thing I knitted.”
He grins, pulling me in by my scarf for a proper kiss which is hot enough to melt the snow.
“I’m going to make you something,” he says against my mouth, his lips constantly tasting me.
“A knitted thing?”
“No, something much better.”
“Let’s hope I don’t point at it and laugh,” I tease, dusting snow off the shoulders of his dark-coloured coat.
The low, addictive sound of his soft laughter has my heart swelling. “I’m pretty sure you won’t.”
I make a face, pretending to be difficult, but my insides are doing the triple Axel. “Don’t bet on it.”
I look towards the lake. Max follows my lead, asking, "Do you hear it?”
“For some reason, this lake sings to me every time I come out here now.”
Max’s voice turns from light to serious. “Do you think it’s a clue then? Water?”
“I’ve no idea, but it did cross my mind too.” The voice did seem to lull me towards the River Cam.
Silently we stand and watch the snow, listening to the softhushas it lands. “Do you want to swim in the snow?” he asks.
“Hmm. Funnily enough, I’m not crazy about that idea,” I reply. “But I could be persuaded to use the hot tub.”
Max meetsme in the hot tub with two bottles of beer and his phone, insisting on some selfies—silly ones and sensible, cute couple-y ones.
I’m not sure I’ve met a man who’s been so obvious about his role in my life. About us. Relying on him would be effortless.
For a time, the snowflakes fascinate me. Sometimes, they just evaporate in the steam. Other times, they land on our shoulders or our hair. But either way, it’s a blissful way to spend our last evening.
“Do you think we’ll make it to the motorway tomorrow?”
“Laurence’s car is made for this type of weather. We’ll make sure you get home okay.”
“You guys are the best. But you especially,” I add with a teasing smile. Leaning my head back against the tub, I ask, “Why is it snow feels so cleansing? As if it could wash away all the bad things.” Scooting closer, Max puts his arm around my shoulders, his touch weighted and comforting. “I feel like I’m in another world right now, one that’s so far away from the one I normally live in.”
“Same. You’ve flipped my world on its head.”
I study him, liking his boyish smile and the way he makes me feel so seen and cherished. “This weekend has been unexpected,” I agree. “It feels like I’ve known you for so long already.”
Max regards me with a long, studious look. “I know what you mean. It’s been a whirlwind, but I love that we’ve clicked the way we have.”
Automatically I think of Ben, who I didn’t click with. He and Sam left this morning, driving away in the black Range Rover. Irrationally, I still don’t like seeing that car.
Sipping at my beer, I start to feel lightheaded. “I want to live somewhere where it snows.”
“Like where?”
At one time I had thought Switzerland might have been my home—Jonas suggested his country of birth a few times. “The Alps, or Colorado, or Canada. I want to ski and to ice skate. To learn how to play ice hockey.”
