Page 59 of Collision of Winters
“But since you’re on your way home, can we set a date to celebrate your birthday?” he asked. “Yaya suggested Saturday.”
“Confirm with Chris first, please,” I replied. “If he’s okay with it, so am I. I just wanna make sure everyone can make it. Wade will definitely be there, because he can’t say no to my puppy-dog eyes.”
Dad found that funny. “All right, I’ll check with Chris first.”
Phew.
This was where it was at.
Our first real date.
The restaurant was stunning, keeping that log-cabin feel with its tables and chairs, chandeliers made from antlers in the high ceiling, dimmed lighting, furs on the walls, and candles everywhere.
We shared the space with some twenty other guests, and we were all dressed similarly. Lots of jeans and cargo pants, lots of long-sleeved tees and flannel shirts. Daddy wore a black-and-gray flannel shirt, for instance. He was super sexy in it with the sleeves rolled up, showing all kinds of forearm porn.
“This is so damn delicious,” I said, shoveling more stew into my mouth. The flavors were so rich. Tomatoes, chili flakes, lemon, slow-cooked ptarmigan, grilled duck, broccoli, beans, and wild rice.
Daddy had opted for tonight’s special, grilled halibut with roasted asparagus and sunchoke puree. “I’ve never had a bad meal here,” he said. “Last time, I tried their chowder and their rockfish tacos. Incredible.”
I smiled and broke off a piece of bread. I did remember that Wade was a foodie. He liked to try new restaurants back home.
“How often do you come up here?” I wondered.
“I try to come once a year,” he replied. “When I was at my worst a few years ago, I spent almost six months here.” He picked up his glass of wine. “Can you see yourself visiting with me in the future?”
“Of course. I like Alaska.” I nodded. “You’ve already promised to take me fishing next time, remember?”
“I remember.” He smiled back. “What other vacation destinations are on your list? I’m sure you have one.”
I laughed. I always had lists! “Well, I’ve been badgering Chris. I wanna see his villa in Italy.”
“Not at the moment, you don’t,” he chuckled. “It’s in shambles. He sent me pictures last time he was there, and never mind that there’s no power or running water yet. The house doesn’t have windows, one exterior wall is literally missing, there’s debris everywhere, and the staircase was rotten all through.”
Oh, yikes. “Okay, so maybe we’ll wait,” I snickered. “I would love to visit Switzerland. I bet the snowboarding is badass there.”
We’d gone skiing and snowboarding a lot over the years, though mostly when I was younger. Dad and Chris had taught me how to snowboard, and Wade was an excellent skier. We’d been to Aspen, Whistler, and Innsbruck, all before I’d turned fifteen. After that, my problems had gotten bigger. I’d struggled too much with school, so I’d become silent and defensive. I’d stopped coming along for family vacations…
I dropped my gaze to my food, struck by the same kind of guilt as before when I talked to Dad.
“Hey.” Wade reached out and put his hand on mine. “What happened there?”
I chewed on my lip. And for the first time, I realized how badly I wanted to be honest and tell him what was wrong. A week ago, I would’ve clammed up. A few days ago, I would’ve had to force myself to speak up. But not anymore.
“I feel super guilty for how I pushed everyone away for so long,” I admitted. “Like, I would create excuses to get out of family stuff, partly because it was exhausting to pretend I didn’t want to get closer to you, and partly because I was constantly afraid you’d see through me. And, once you saw throughme, you’d distance yourselves from me, and then a bunch of memories from family vacations and adventures would hurt even more to let go of.”
“Sweetheart, we—” He took a breath and shook his head. “The thing is, Quinlan and I already know all this. Chris, too, for the record. We’ve shared so many theories over the years, and regardless of what we landed on at the time, we always knew you kept your distance because of the demons you felt the need to handle on your own.” He lifted my hand and kissed my knuckles briefly. “Don’t feel guilty, whatever you do. All right? We only want you to finally live the life that will make you happy.”
Damn, he was good. Almost too good.
The unease in my stomach faded some.
“Youmake me happy,” I murmured.
He kissed my hand again. “You make me happy too. You even made me look forward to returning to everyday life, because I’ll have you with me.”
I had to rub my cheeks and jaw, because all this smiling was starting to hurt.
“Is it weird that I want the normal stuff?” I asked. “Like, doing everyday stuff together—grocery shopping, running errands, meeting up for lunch.”
