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"My mom always went for passion and wealth in men." Cherry folds her napkin into fourths and then eighths, marking the folds precisely with one long sparkly nail. "Passion fizzles over time and the wealth went with it when the men walked out of her life. But my sister, she found true love with a good man and she's got it all. She's got happiness and stability. She's so different from me, in every conceivable way. I'm never going to be the kind of woman who attracts a good man like she did and, I guess…" She looks away. "I guess I don't think everyone gets their one true love."
I hear what she's not saying, that she thinks she doesn't deserve that kind of love. "Cherry, you—"
She holds up a hand. "Just hear me out, okay? I know what I want, but I also understand what I can realistically expect to have. RJ can never break my heart again. He's done it once and I don't love him anymore. But he's the only man I've ever known who's stuck around and wanted to be with me forever. He can't hurt me and I can trust him. What are the odds I'll ever find anyone better?"
"So you're just going to settle for the least worst option? Do you want to be married so badly?"
"Yes. I know it makes me sound pathetic to admit it, but I don't want to be alone."
My gut twists with a familiar ache, one I work hard to ignore. Loneliness is something only weak men admit. "You're wrong."
She scowls, her nose scrunching and her eyes narrowing. "I know what I want, Xavier."
"Not that. The right man is out there for you somewhere. You deserve true love as much as your sister."
Her expression softens. "You're sweet to say so, but I'm a realist. I know who I am and what my prospects are and I'm not going to sit around waiting for my soul mate to show up just so he can break my heart, too."
She speaks matter-of-factly, like this is something she's thought a lot about. She doesn't seem sad, just accepting. I think she's wrong, but what the hell do I know?
"I'm not faulting your logic here, but don't you think there's a better guy you could find to engage in a love-less marriage?"
She shakes her head, determination shining in her eyes. "No."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Cherry
The wooden sign decorated with Christmas lights reads, "Yuletide Reindeer Farm" with an arrow pointing up the steep, snow covered driveway. The paint is peeling on the sign and the F on Farm has faded so that it's practically invisible.
The view is idyllic, with the mountains rising high above, but I'm not appreciating the beauty, because I have to walk up that driveway and I don't have a tent or a sub-zero sleeping bag in my cuter-than-it's-functional backpack.
I start up, glad I've got these amazing boots and am wearing snow pants because the snow is almost up to my knees and I'm already shivering, even in my heavy coat, gloves, and hat.
The trees that line the driveway are mostly pines and their branches are heavily laden with snow. Birds twitter and flit around, a startling shot of color against all the white.
It really is gorgeous out here, but I'd rather be seeing it from inside a car with snow tires and four-wheel drive.
My own two feet are all I have, because I didn't bother with the expense of renting a car when I flew out here. A shuttle from the airport brought me straight to Yuletide, and the town is small enough to be easily walkable. I didn't anticipate having to go farther than main street and I certainly didn't expect to be trekking through snow.
As the slope of the driveway increases, seeming to go on and up forever, I'm regretting my lack of car more than ever.
Not that a car would help me right now, since the driveway hasn't been plowed after the huge snowfall we had yesterday. It possibly hasn't been plowed in a few weeks. The snow seems awfully deep for one snowfall.
I glance back to see I've only made it about twenty feet from the sign. Already I'm sweating, each step the work of sinking into snow and pulling my foot back out.
I look back at the never-ending driveway and sigh. Maybe this was a mistake. I'm not cut out for roughing it. I have no idea how to treat frostbite or what to do if I get lost in the snow.
RJ's right. I'm good at shopping and laying by the pool. Maybe I'm stupid to think I can change, that I can be the kind of person a normal guy like RJ would want to marry.
I don't even know how to walk through deep snow without getting my foot stuck. I yank on my right foot again, but it seems to be lodged tight in the deep snow and I'm too weak to lift it.
A rumble cuts through the silence, deep and low and mechanical. I try to lift my left foot and find it's stuck as well.
I shift my weight forward and back, trying to make the holes around my legs big enough that I can pull a foot free, but the snow is light and dry on the top, not clumping together the way I expected. Instead, I'm just sending more snow down the leg holes.
The rumbling gets louder and closer. It's probably just a big truck on the main road. I twist to look back the way I came and debate signaling to whoever's on the road. If I yell and wave my arms, will they even notice me?
RJ's face pops into my mind, patronizing and judging. I can already hear what he'd say about me needing to be rescued a few hundred feet up a driveway. My first foray into the wilderness and I get stuck in the snow?
