Page 14 of Snowed In on Valentine's Day

I bit my lip, unsure which path to take.

“I’m happy for you, Terry.” There, that’s fair. I didn’t lie—I just omitted the tiny fact of our meeting last week. Or was it the week before last? The days had started to run together.

“I heard he didn’t make the best impression with you, but give it time.” At my doubtful expression, he chuckled. “He’s actually a great guy. And he’s been through a lot.”

I must have raised my eyebrows because Mariana jumped in. “Seriously, Hazel. You just got off on the wrong foot. I think your next meeting will be better. In fact, maybe the two of you could hang out at the weekend bonfire thing. Just break the ice a bit.”

Terry smiled at her double entendre, while I balked. “Uh, what? He doesn’t exactly seem like the casual bonfire hangout kind of guy. Isn’t he like … a strait-laced Wall Street type or something?”

Terry frowned, while Mariana shrugged. “I mean, he could be both? Sure, he does seem a tad uptight when you meet him. It’s true, Terry,” she said, looking at him quickly. “But maybe he moved here to try to make some changes.”

I couldn’t help it; I laughed. “I’m sorry, it’s just—he’s still—” I clamped my mouth shut then before I could say any more. “Look, I appreciate you guys trying to get me out of the house and stuff, but I’m fine. And once you’re back, I’ll be even better. When are you coming back again?” I asked with a hopeful note in my voice.

“Next week,” he said with a mournful look.

Mariana nodded, her face also looking distinctly regretful. “Don’t get me wrong—we miss you and the town and the resort and everything. But these past five weeks have easily been the best of my life.” She grinned. “And you know I’m not the sentimental type.”

I smiled wistfully. “So much truth in that statement. And yet there you are. I’m so happy for you, Mari. You deserve all this happiness and more. You know that, right?”

She nodded slowly. “I do now. And you deserve it too, Haz. Don’t give me that look. You do! I know you’re not dating right now, but—”

“I’msosick of talking about me. I want to hear about Italy! It’s one of the few places in the Northern Hemisphere I’ve never been, so I need all the details. Well, maybe notallthe details—let’s keep it PG, all right?”

Mari’s face colored again, and I laughed. Even when she was the queen of avoiding and concealing emotions, her blushing often gave her away. Oh, I really missed my best friend.

“Ah, we actually have to go soon, Haz. I’m sorry,” she said, her mouth scrunching to one side. “One thing I miss about our country is the prevalence of free Wi-Fi. Not a thing in Europe, we’ve learned. This call is costing us a fortune.”

I flinched. “Oh no, Mari, why didn’t you tell me?” I mean, I should’ve known. I’d spent plenty of time in Europe myself, especially during holidays with my jet-setting mother.

“No, it’s been totally worth it! But we should probably not run up the bill any more,” she said with a nervous laugh, and Terry nodded. “We are going to have an epic catch-up session when we’re back though. Or several. You’re going to get sick of me, Haz.”

“Not likely,” I said fondly. “But you go enjoy your day.”

At least one of us should. I sighed but offered another convincing smile before ending the call. At least I hoped it was convincing. I’d need to work on my facial expressions—apparently I was easy to read these days. And that shouldn’t bother me, but … well. I wasn’t always the open book everyone expected me to be.

Chapter 5

Staring at my reflection in the mirror covering the entire wall above the double sink, I leaned forward and squinted. Was that a silver hair near my right ear?

It was! I scrambled to find my tweezers in a drawer and then plucked out the offending strand. Wincing at the brief pain around my temple, I held it in front of me. It was only about an inch long, but it was definitely silver. Or grey.Notthe sleek black it was supposed to be.

I sighed deeply. This was it. The beginning of the slow slide into aging and old maid status. I really thought I’d have a few more years before starting to grey, given my Japanese blood from my father’s family. But my mother had started coloring her grey in her early thirties, so I supposed I was doomed.

Notthat grey hair was somehow bad. In truth, I thought it was beautiful, and I’d admired many a woman with artful greying tones. My grandmother had had white hair for as long as I remembered, and she’d been one of my favorite people growing up. One of the only people who seemed to notice me.

My long, silky, black hair had often been called my best feature. And one grey hair didn’t diminish that.

And I’d spent years preaching a doctrine of self-acceptance, beauty, body positivity, and vigor at all ages, and all of that. It was my livelihood.

Still.

Ugh.

I could pull off a silvery style. I was generally pretty confident in my appearance, despite society’s frequent messages that I shouldn’t be as a short, curvy, multiracial woman.

Then why was this bothering me? I tried to put my finger on it as I brushed my long, dark locks slowly. Maybe because it felt like … a clock was ticking. Like, maybe this was a new phase of life that I wasn’t ready for. Maybe I had a lot more I wanted from life, and I wasn’t there yet. But that should be fine because plenty of people accomplish a ton of stuff well past their thirties.

But some things had an expiration date. Having children, for one. I wasn’t in a hurry to become a mother, but I always thought I would, eventually. After I fell in love and lived happily ever after. Everyone called me a hopeless romantic, and they were right. But for a romantic, I evidently had no idea how to find love for myself. I sighed loudly.

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