Page 48 of Teach Me to Laugh

I didn’t see her blink in startled awe as she pulled her eyes from the big cabin. I was already in the deep snow, slamming my door closed behind me. I was lifting the latch of my cover to pull our suitcases from the back when she called, “These groceries are going to take a few trips to bring in.”

That was saying something as the girl turned into The Hulk on grocery days. If there was something Amara hated more than making multiple trips from the vehicle to the condo on grocery days, I had yet to find it. The girl loaded herself until I thought she’d collapse like a little paper doll every time.

I followed her to the door and mentally noted I’d have to shovel the stone path before anyone else arrived. My parents’had a family who lived close by employed to maintain the cabin while they were at the main house, which was most of the year. Still, although I could tell the path had been shoveled a few times, the snow was falling hard enough to demand another.

My eyes fell on the little woman with the cute gray beanie as she waddled up the carved log steps to the front door. Turning, she barked an order that had me fighting my grin. “Will you get a move on? My arms are gonna fall off soon.”

“Heavy groceries?”

“You bought half the store, what did you expect?”

I did as she demanded and got a move on, shoving my key into the front door and pushing it open. The sky was cloudy and gray, so the inside of the cabin was dark without the light from the sun. Amara dropped the groceries to the floor and I set the suitcases next to the wide oak bench.

I caught her by the waist as she made a move for the door, shaking my head. “Why don’t you start putting the groceries away? I’ll bring the rest in before starting a fire, yeah?”

“Oh,” her mitten covered hands rested against my arm across her belly. “Sure.”

I stood for a moment, watching as she tipped her head back to take in the enormity of the cabin. If it were a house used for regular use, it wouldn’t have been so bad. So excessive. But it wasn’t used for regular use. At thirty-seven hundred square feet of living space, not including the loft over the garage which made the total living space forty-two hundred square feet, it was a bit outrageous for a couple who used it no more than three times a year. Granted when they used it, nearly every room was filled with people, but still. It was excessive when they could throw the same parties at their estate in the city.

Still, this house was pretty much my dream. I couldn’t imagine living in a place more peaceful than this, with the tall trees and quiet of nature surrounding the ambiance of wood, space, and flame. When I finished medical school and got a decent paying job, I intended to buy this house from my parents. That’s how much I loved it.

I assumed that was why I wanted Amara to love this house. Because there was no question, I was falling for her. I was falling fast, and deep, and hard. I also didn’t want to stop.

This place washuge.When Beckett said his parent’s had a four-bedroom cabin on the outskirts of Banff, I’d been excited to see the quaint details of the place. There was nothing quaint about this cabin—except maybe the décor. I had to admit the décor made the tall vaulted ceiling over the living room feel a bit less “O.M.G.” and a bit more “Sweet.”

The walls were all exposed logs and the floors stretched throughout in warm toned planks of oak. The entrance, although surprisingly large and separate from the living space, moved directly into the informal living room where a tall wood-burning fireplace crafted by excellent masonry work stretched up through the vaulted ceiling. The cherry brown leather furniture shone clean in the warm light cast by the tasteful hazed glass domes strategically positioned on the walls.

A large dining room filled with the largest cedar table I’d ever seen surrounded by numerous black leather high-backed chairs. Below large windows, lining the L of the wall surrounding the table sat cedar-crafted benches with cream-colored cushion tops. Between the windows and benches, pillows that had no apparent uniform in color, size, or design, had been positioned with a hand that aimed for a careless, yet classy-comfortable, design-scheme.

It was between the dining room and the rustically designed kitchen that a clean pair of sliding patio doors stood. From here, I could see the large deck and blanket of white in the wide-open back yard. I was certain it would be paradise in the summer. On a sigh, I turned my attention to the kitchen where I lifted the groceries onto the enormous island counter. The cabinets were an off-white that was brushed artistically with bronze around the edges, giving an antique feel to the sprawl. The countertops were a beautiful granite I never would have chosen from the tiny little squares they give you in the stores to pick from. But in this kitchen, with the white creamy base, veins of chocolate and rivers of gold, it was perfect.

I was staring beneath the open stairs that faced the front entrance to a hall where I suspected was one or two of the fourbedrooms the home housed, when Beckett came barreling into the front door with grocery bags in hand.

His cheeks puffed out as he shook the snow from his hood. “Whoa,” kicking off his boots, he took the short way to the kitchen, bypassing the long route I’d taken through the living room and dining room, and instead moving straight toward the stairs, past them, and into the kitchen. Honestly, in my minds overwhelmed state, I hadn’t even registered the shortcut.

“Cold out?” I asked, already knowing it was. Not ten minutes ago I’d been standing on the front porch waiting for Beckett to get his keys out.

“And snowing harder. We’re lucky we left when we did.”

I glanced out the bay window over the corner sink to see the large fluffy white flakes spiraling quickly to the ground. “Yeah.”

“You look around at all?”

“Yeah.”

“What do you think?”

Was that nervousness I detected in the nonchalance of his tone? It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t care if I hated it. He probably wouldn’t care if I loved it, either. And I most definitely loved it. Yes, it was admittedly a bit big, but it wasn’t my house. I didn’t have to dish out the dough to fill it, so what did I care if it was a little too large?

“It’s nice.”

“That’s it?”

Okay. Yep. I was pretty sure I was detecting apprehension. But why? “Um—it’s unique, and huge, andreallynice.”

“Yeah.”

Had I disappointed him? “I can’t wait to take a tour to see the rest.”

---