Page 35 of Snow Much Trouble
And I'm pretty sure I'm going to remember every single word he’s spoken for the rest of my life.
Dylan
Sunday morning arrives with brutal efficiency.
I wake up alone in the blanket fort we'd rebuilt last night, my back protesting sleeping on the floor. Lauren isn’t next to me. I feel around for my phone on the hearth and manage to pry my eyes open long enough to glance at the screen and realize it’s only a little after seven a.m.
We didn’t stay up late the night before. We’d snacked for a dinner, played more board games, taken a walk in the woods. We'd talked and laughed and had sex again until we’d finally drifted off around eleven. The fire has burned down to embers, but the central heat is humming away reliably. It’s quiet in the cabin and I don’t hear any movement. Lauren must be in her bedroom.
Through the windows, I can see the newly rising sun reflecting off the snow. It's beautiful—a postcard-perfect winter morning. The kind of morning that makes you believe in fresh starts and new possibilities.
Except I don't want a fresh start. I want to rewind to Friday evening and do this entire weekend over again, slower this time.
My phone buzzes with a text from Malcolm.
Roads opening up. Plow crews been out since dawn. You heading back today?
I stare at the message, my thumb hovering over the keyboard.
Yeah. Probably this afternoon.
My plan is to spend a leisurely morning with Lauren. Make her breakfast. Maybe take a shower together, soap up all of her amazing curves for her…
The smell of coffee hits me. I find Lauren in the kitchen, already fully dressed in jeans and a cream-colored sweater, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She's got her overnight bag sitting by the door, already packed.
My stomach drops.
"Morning," she says, not quite meeting my eyes. "I made coffee."
"Thanks." I pour myself a mug, trying to read her body language. Everything about her posture says she's putting distance between us. "You're up early."
"Couldn't sleep." She's wiping down the kitchen counter even though it's already clean. "I should probably get on the road soon. I have a lot of work to do on this song, and I think getting back to my own space will help me focus."
There it is. The whole morning after brush-off. I know this move because I’m usually the one doing it.
"Lauren—"
"The roads are clear," she continues, still not looking at me. "I checked the traffic app. Chance texted me too. He apologized about the double booking, which was sweet. He said if I have trouble with my car, I should just call him."
I set my mug down carefully on the counter. "Is that what this is about? The song?"
"Of course. That's why I came here." Now she does look at me, and there's something in her expression that I can't quite read. Sadness? Regret? "I have a deadline, Dylan. This weekend was supposed to be about writing."
"But it wasn't." The words come out rougher than I intended. "It was about us."
She flinches slightly. "There is nous. There's just a weekend that happened because of a double booking. And it was fun, but?—"
"Fun?" I know I should let this go, should let her leave with my dignity intact, but I can't. "Is that really all it was to you?"
Lauren wraps her arms around herself. "What do you want me to say? That I'm falling for a guy I just met? This was like a snow globe weekend, Dylan. A perfect little bubble that doesn't exist in the real world."
"It doesn’t have to be that. I don’t want it to be that."
"I can't afford to take that risk right now." Her voice is barely a whisper. "I need to focus on my career. This Christmas song could change everything for me. And if I let myself get distracted by someone..."
"I'm a distraction." It's not a question.
"You know what I mean."
