Page 3 of Married to Her Yeti
“Enjoy,” Mari said as she waved goodbye.
As soon as she disconnected, her smile fell, and she turned to Helen for part two of her legal business and the secret she’d carried for ten long years.
As if reading Mari’s mind, Helen pulled anenvelope from her satchel. “On a more somber note, I drew up your divorce paperwork.”
Mari immediately sobered, her hand going to the chain around her neck. Her and Nima’s wedding rings lay hidden under her sweater, nestled next to her infinity tattoo, the one that matched the same ink on his chest. She’d worn the rings in secret for a decade because... Because even though Nima had regretted marrying her, she’d never stopped loving him. But it was time to let go. She struggled to mask the conflicting sadness and determination playing tug-o-war in her chest. She bit her lip. “And you didn’t tell anyone?”
Helen placed a reassuring hand on Mari’s forearm. “Not a soul. This is your business, and all our dealings are protected by the attorney client-privilege. Of course, as your friend, I can’t freaking believe you’re legally married to your childhood sweetheart, a yeti, and no one knows.”
“Well, Nima knows, naturally. He also said, ‘I do’ while we were at Burning Man.” Mari heaved a sad and weary sigh. “Then he left and returned to Alaska without me, and I stayed in the Lower Forty-Eight, working in Portland for several years.”
“And you haven’t seen or spoken to Nima since your wedding night... over ten years ago?” Helenasked. “He hasn’t reached out to you since he’s been in Wildwood?”
A lead weight settled in Mari’s stomach as she shook her head. Some part of her wished he would, because she’d tried and couldn’t. Her own sense of self-preservation didn’t allow her to risk his rejection again. “It’s been so long. I didn’t expect to hear from him.” She gestured to the envelope. “Purchasing this bakery is a new chapter in my life. I need to close the book on the old one.”
Helen flashed her a sympathetic grimace. “Girl, my fiancé left me at the altar. I completely understand.” She nodded at the envelope. “I’ve flagged where you and Nima both need to sign. Our office can take care of delivering the papers to Nima.”
Mari had no intention of hunting down her ex. “Great, I’ll read this over and return signed copies tomorrow.”
“Sounds good, but no rush,” Helen said. “Dale is flying me back to Toklat Lodge tonight. I’ll be back online after Christmas.” She zipped her bag and stood. “I had lunch with Tseten today, so of course, I’m caught up on all the news.”
Tseten, the most gregarious yeti around, was a friend to all who knew about yeti. If someone wanted the latest gossip, they called Tseten.
“Okay...” Mari responded with some trepidation. This was usually how her friends discussed anything to do with Nima, and her chest tightened a fraction, as if bracing for impact.
“We went to the Blackwoods’ house to visit with Nima and see his tile work. The mosaic is stunning, Mari.”
All Mari could do was nod. Helen wasn’t the first person to tell her this. Did Mari want to see what her ex was capable of? A part of her did, sure. But that part wasn’t so large that she’d speak to Nima and show interest in his work after his abandonment and ten years of radio silence between them.
Helen slid her arms into her parka. “Nima is rushing to finish up today because the Blackwoods’ house-sitter is apparently throwing a party at their house tonight.” She pursed her lips as if considering. “I won’t mince words. If you want to see Nima’s work with no one else knowing, go to the party and check out the upstairs bathroom.”
As Mari blinked in response at Helen’s unexpected suggestion, her friend lifted her hood, her cheerful face now framed with her parka’s Arctic fox ruff. “We’ll catch up after the holiday and complete your divorce before New Year’s. Have a wonderfulChristmas,” she called as she stepped out into the cold, dark night.
“Y-you too, and thanks,” Mari said, finally finding her voice. She locked the door behind Helen and then leaned back against the frosty glass as soft music floated in from the kitchen. Mari clutched the rings beneath her sweater and released a deep, gusty breath. She could see Nima’s work without him—or any of her friends—knowing? It seemed too easy. But how could she resist?
CHAPTER TWO
Nima packed his tools and belongings into his truck, then cleaned construction debris from around the house, which took hours. By the time he returned to the upstairs bathroom to finish his work, the sun had long set. A glance out the now-blackened second-story window confirmed the late hour.
He had to hurry... but he couldn’t get Mari out of his head. Instead of immediately hanging the bathroom door and gathering the last of his gear, he leaned against the counter and pulled out his phone to send her a quick message. He just had to do it.
Since arriving at Wildwood, friends had inadvertently copied him on group texts that included Mari. He’d determined her current number based oncomments in the thread, but until now, he’d been too apprehensive to use it.
He typed, “Hi, Mari, it’s Nima.” Then blinked, staring at his messaging app at a loss for words. What could he possibly say over text besides, “I’d like to talk with you, if you’re willing?”
But he didn’t have a chance to write more before a noise from downstairs startled him, and he almost dropped his phone. Had Tseten returned?
“Roll the keg into the garage,” an unfamiliar male voice yelled. “I’m going to check out the house and see if whoever owns that truck is still here.”
Fuck!Theyetiwho owned the truck was still in the house, alright. And he didn’t want to out cryptids everywhere by being caught and captured on a phone camera.
Nima abandoned his message and tossed his phone into his tool bag on top of the drill. He scrambled to close the container full of screws, but the hinge broke, and screws scattered into the sink.Double fuck!
As he frantically scooped sharp screws back into the container, footfalls pounded up the stairs.No time!Heart hammering, Nima shoved his bag to the far back of the counter where it might not be noticed, then crossed the room, turned offthe light, and dove into the empty linen closet. At least that had a door—of sorts. If anyone peered hard enough, they might make him out through the door’s angled wooden slats. As the intruder pushed through the plastic sheeting in the bedroom, Nima wedged his blue fingertips between the slats on the top part of the door and clicked it shut.
A moment later, the lights came on in the bathroom, and shoes squeaked on the new tile. A guy looked around and then reached for the abandoned tool bag—the one that still held Nima’s phone.
Icy balls!His Carhartts had a million pockets suitable for a phone. Why hadn’t he jammed it in one?
