Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
“So I’m not the only one who’d rather do this than be out there?”
Her laughter is light and soft. “Hardly. I know it’s supposed to be great skiing, but that’s never been my thing. I’m Teagan, by the way.”
“Aspen,” I offer with a smile as a member of the staff approaches and asks if we’d like anything. When she orders “the largest hot chocolate on the menu,” I get the feeling we could be friends. I repeat her order, and she gives me a thumbs-up.
“Is this your first time in Gstaad?” she asks.
“Yes, my husband sprang this on me as a Christmas surprise. I’m loving it. How about you?”
“Same here, though it wasn’t a surprise. I had to convince my boyfriend to leave our hotel and take some time for himself. Otherwise, he’d work himself to death.”
“Wait, you own a hotel?” I question. “Do you feel like cheating staying somewhere else?”
She laughs. “No, it’s not the kind of hotel you vacation in.” She suddenly looks away, almost like she’s worried she said too much, so I don’t ask her what she means by that.
“Is your boyfriend out on the slopes?”
Her head bobs up and down. “He was chomping at the bit to get out there, which is surprising. He usually doesn’t like to be outside much. Me? I usually do, but I’d rather take advantage of the chance to relax today. Must be opposite day.” She giggles.
We chat for a minute about how she publishes children’s books and her plans for the trip before our drinks arrive. I’m transported to heaven at the first sip. There’s a reason people love Swiss chocolate so much.
There are still times when I have to remind myself this is my life. When I think back on where I came from—a comfortable life, but nothing like this—and how bad things got overnight once the man I believed was my father decided to become an informant. Once he ratted, that was it. I was marked as poisonous, thanks to him.
I didn’t know then that I was adopted. That my birth father was actually the headmaster of the school I was sent to for my protection. I didn’t know my husband was waiting there for me, either. And that life would get even worse before it got so much better. Now, I have a new family. My birth mother lives in Italy with a family of her own. My father’s extended family. Even Quinton’s family, including a father who hated me for a long time, thanks to my adoptive father’s choices.
Now, here I am, in the lap of luxury, with nothing to do but enjoy my book, which gets better with every page I turn. Occasionally, Teagan and I check in with each other and chat about other favorite authors, but for the most part, we leave each other alone. She gets it. Sometimes it’s enough just to sit with somebody and not say a word.
It isn’t until my phone buzzes that I realize I’ve been sitting here for a couple of hours.
Quinton: Going to take one last run. Looking forward to warming up once I come back.
I know what that means, and my cheeks flush while I type out a response.
Me: Maybe a nice soak in the hot tub would relax those muscles of yours.
I can’t hide my smile as I tuck my phone away, anticipating what’s to come. As far as I’m concerned, we could have taken a vacation anywhere with a nice bed, and I would have been fine with it. The excuse to spend one-on-one time connecting is all that matters to me.
I can probably get in another chapter or two of my book before arranging for lunch to be delivered to our suite. After all that exercise, I’m sure he’ll be hungry, and it’ll be nice knowing we don’t have to leave the room for anything until we go out for dinner later tonight. I look out the window at the snowy scene on the other side and still want to pinch myself, but I settle for turning my attention to the page open in front of me.
That is until I catch sight of something that can’t be possible.
“See you later,” Teagan calls out behind me once I get up to follow the golden-haired woman I saw, but I hardly notice. I’m not even sure why I’m following her. She can’t possibly be who I thought she was when I set my sights on her. It doesn’t matter how familiar she looks or how many times I’ve seen that exact head of hair, that profile. It has to be a trick my mind is playing on me. Probably with Christmas coming up in a few days, my subconscious is flipping through old memories and making me think I see things that aren’t there.